Memory

 

 

And I left as the snow fell

Winters grip still loose

The hedgehog under the hedge row

Asleep in dreams of spring

 

Those walls now silent, still

The laughter, echoes of a past

Lived once in a fading memory

As shadows through a laced window

 

 

Advertisements

The Prize

 

 

Soft hand in mine, my soul, hold me now,

Not a whisper, a single word to express,

Watch as the world goes by and vow,

A love, bathed in light and loves caress.

 

Creator of worlds apart, I finally see,

Joy lives in a smile, a word, a kiss,

Free will was always ours, to be,

Upon this stage, the script we wrote was this.

 

 

In A Word

 

 

All of humanity contained in a word,

Hope, wild, rampant and free,

Upon the page or whispered, unheard,

Smiling eyes reveal that which I see.

 

Spoken aloud or scribed in a tale,

To ear or eye, one and all,

History speaks beyond the veil,

Of lessons learned, victorious or fall.

 

Cradled pen, mark my life’s moments,

That I may remember in later years,

What I once thought, lines wrote in atonement,

Left behind for those, my heroic poet peers.

 

 

 

Maybe

 

 

If I were sane, I maybe could explain,

what it is you want from me.

If I were blind, I maybe could find,

the words to tell you what I cannot see.

 

If I were weak, I maybe could not speak,

my mind and my thoughts.

Beyond your scope, beyond your hope,

things that cannot ever be taught.

 

You are you, and I am not you,

why can’t you see?

I maybe blind, but I can find,

the truth where we can just be.

 

 

 

Father To Son

 

 

I am my father,

in little things I see his hand.

 

A phrase once received,

turned as my own, I now understand.

 

Rebellion in my youth, I found my path,

my own man, I took a stand.

 

Only to find, later in life,

my father was always beside me, holding my hand.

 

 

In Silence

 

 

In silence you remained, the boy

Unchanged, innocence and wonder

Unaware, each of the other

Me full of noise, running out of time

You wondering, where did I go?

 

Days of climbing trees,

Sticklebacks in the creek

Cut knees and laughter, carefree

The moment, the precious moment

Far from the noise, the world.

 

Forgotten, for so long now

Buried, the grave where joy smothers

Under workloads and deadlines

Fill the gaps, afraid of the silence

In the quietness I sometimes hear your cries.

 

 

Watcher

 

 

She thinks that no one knows,

the games played in dark corners.

Out of the sunlight, words whispered,

to one whom the truth is never told.

 

Affairs of the heart where rules bend,

break more than the branches of family trees.

New leaves trying to break forth,

in poison earth nothing of worth grows.

 

Watcher, lower your weary eyes in sorrow,

lessons too often learned, too late to matter.

Walking along a lonely one way road,

watching as the victims fall one by one.

 

Stoic