The Rains Began

Seemed days had passed,

since I’d heard their steady cry,

my rooftop comes alive,

with the steady rains,

 

Oh we do need the tears,

especially in those quiet times,

when our heart has stopped.

 

The beat of our sympathy,

some time lost in the scathing heat,

of a hot sunlight,

meant to persecute our peaceful

sanctuary.

 

I heard the rains begin,

the drops of cleansing cry,

she told me they would arrive.

 

And so I listened,

and could cry for hours afterward.

I Wonder About Love

Oh it is true the feeling you might have,

the moment the mention,

the imagined response to knowing,

wanting, having, believing, sharing,

all the keywords that could be eternal,

always an option,

for it was told,

we could often recall,

the word, the name, the title,

the option,

… and yet we always do somehow return.

 

I will always remember

when being told,

the actions will speak from afar,

only if I might allow hesitation

to surround my being,

to create an obstacle toward

seeing

there is a certain Truth

to believing.

 

Yet I always return,

whenever the feeling seems right,

there a door opens,

and I do choose to walk,

walk right in,

answer the call,

remind myself of the

the, of the,

of Thee

bigger picture

beyond the wall.

 

I wonder if it is all so simple,

I do often try to recall.

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.