Rainy Days In Real Form

When walking alone by the naked shore,

Small pebbles hurt the bottom of my soul,

while finding balance in ocean floor whole

I did discover real becomes much more

When standing in the rain to feel soft tease

I wandered further in the sea line edge

wanting somehow to find a proverbial ledge

a place to stand, to hope, to view life at ease.

When contemplating the gray upon my day,

I wondered about still seeking some answer

to the question does remain, when whether

the waves surreal, gather the rains this way.

Oh, to understand the reason a cleanse release

Oh, to recognize nature form a simple peace.

 

Summer’s Wonder

In simple minutes I was drawn to you,

a walk, a stroll – complimentary blue.

If told to find the cloud in this sweet sky,

One might imagine naysayers do cry.

Soak in an energy drives home our soul

Believe in the elegance in a summer whole.

I do dance in the steaming heat of victory,

to know that Grace offers my humanity.

Oh to wonder the how and why of a universal

atmosphere we could stand to embrace all

Sunsets Will Remain

jamaica

While monsters in our midst,

shed sallow contraband upon our mind,

when gathering upon the storm,

seeking shelter beyond the norm,

there is that constant we might recall,

a certain Grace in common language.

for everyone is given cause to learn,

in struggle, sunsets will remain.

 

We fight the crazies by instinct we know,

the candor of survival a goal,

and yet, in the time of forgotten peace,

how quickly do our souls begin to ache,

searching aimless in a cloud of foil,

unsure of ourselves, little left to convince,

the pattern of response becomes reaction,

yet, quite apparently, sunsets will remain.

 

Inside the pretty fashion of calm design,

there instills a certain measure of sanity,

our pulse is drawn within the scope

of humankind, the solace being so kind.

Until the fabric begins to wear, shadows tear

away at the still life photograph of sweet bliss.

We cannot always find a way to piece together

our broken spirit. Yet, sunsets will remain.

 

In the morning, the offer of delight is an energy

we celebrate harmony knowing sunsets will remain.

Love, Time & Death

Central Park

It’s New York,

of course,

where lives do happen,

cross through Central Park,

onto 7th until we find ourselves,

sitting on a bench,

wondering where everyone is coming from,

hoping that we might find peace.

 

We keep looking in their eyes,

sometimes the notice is true,

others,

they walk by searching themselves

for some resting point,

a place they can call home.

 

He is that man alone in a world,

where everything exists,

and he’ll ride his bicycle all hours of the night,

because he can,

he can maneuver through the masses,

and always,

he can still eat his dinner alone.

 

She might be that woman living different roles,

walking through the park,

with a certain flair,

an attraction to the masses,

yet, in her mind,

no one really notices,

because she has felt alone.

 

I took the day off today

because I needed rest,

seems that has been a necessary event,

while the world continues to glow around me,

I center my eyes upon tears,

for it seems they are always near,

waiting for some answer,

a reason to suggest there is purpose,

even when nothing seems to matter,

only time continues to measure.

 

When that moment called me,

I stood before an audience,

Strangers all of them so cold,

the bitter icy winds of discontentment,

without notice walked away,

while my body wondered about time,

the descent, how far, how chilled, how quickly.

Then she became the moment,

amongst many beyond that walkway …

 

she is love.

Empty Spaces – The Road Taken – Photo Challenge

The Road Taken

img_6289

And yet there were travelers, all of the eyes,

the minds, the plays, the laughter that contained

an avenue of freedom inside quiet minds, sighs,

while everywhere around a humanity maintained.

 

Where have they all gone, the inspiration, surreal

is the occasional dreamer who steps inside wonder

only toward the stranger that perhaps might feel

questioned, in an accentuated fog of a hereafter.

 

Perhaps if we might contain each story’s beginning

to reach the end, all of the internal warfare being

forgotten while nostalgic, the dreamer again did sing

a sorrowful melody of some melancholy meandering.

 

Oh, now there is a silent road ahead where people muse

we imagine an emptiness filled by travelers we amuse.

Turning Toward Time

dali

Dali

 

When we race for that which we embrace,

the notion of our lives seems to last forever,

its when we let go, step off, rearrange, justify,

we lose sight upon what is the actual time.

 

I know this person,

they’ll go unnamed,

could touch a heart

suggest a part …

 

We do forget quickly from where we came,

having built roadblocks, walls, pervasive fears,

instead of understanding,

we’d quickly run away, face the danger another day.

 

It pisses me off that occasionally I might say a word,

then later have it used against my desires rather than the listener

understanding all my meaning is for their own

peace of mind.

 

The race against having all the time in the world,

so easily lost in the battle of knowledge of truth.

The Autumn Winds

I stood outside today,

the wheat fields were my gentle sway,

there was hard rain fell all morning,

and I figured it to be tears for our mourning.

 

I imagined a corn field in the midwest,

where a little boy has been laid to rest,

not with tender desire,

more the actions of a liar.

 

I have periodic crying spells

when my heart in the silence of my home swells,

I think of all the children

lost in the chaotic evil of this cauldron.

 

This morning I chose to return to the fields,

to feel the breeze sway the crops, the august yields,

I was thankful in the most horrific manner,

to know such a beautiful young boy did matter.

 

In the horror of Satan’s grasp upon our soul,

there is this field, in Jacob’s life, his spirit whole.