I did say the words in society
a rather grand chamber
pomp in ceremony
two lives began a choice.
I did know the wonderment
not knowing the next
level of acclimate
co-existence life will demand.
then she came along
and he followed sooner,
the elder a blank stupefied
air of God’s grateful heart
Oh I do, Oh indeed, oh yes
we did, we knew, we did.
Night sky
twilight in our head.
This actuality
whereby heart and soul,
mind and body,
universal pedagogy,
turns upon the
haunting nature
that is a sweet
blood-letting, creation
by virtue of an imagination
wreaks reality upon
a sedentary fantasy
Halloween-esque poetry
©️Scott F Savage 2019
When looking toward a bookshelf,
watching the covers move,
the characters inside screaming
for some recognition.
Beyond the scope of the story they tell,
their lives trapped in some universe
a parallel to each of ours
as we did read their lives,
followed their stories,
imagined their agonies
and went about business,
searching for a new character
to escape their own lives.
We do live inside that scheme
where travels are exploited,
natural characters live
fantasy lives,
we relate because
our own lives
run parallel
to the fiction
on our bookshelves
all of them are rustling right now,
screaming inside their pages,
I can see them moving,
each wanting,
to flood my living room with
eons of history.
I feel like I’m inside
an Edgar Allan Poe
illusion,
waiting for the sky to fall,
the earth to lose its footing.,
my life to become some
ancient recall,
of no value,
no reason
to care about,
no, there is not an outcome
I can find that lives
a better life,
than the character inside
my favorite
novel.
What story do –
I have to tell?
What is the difference
between being alive,
and providing a memory?
The characters in a story,
live and breathe and walk
amongst us all,
they endured exploits, and sarcasm,
unfair living conditions,
enough such to create in them,
the historic heroes
of their own legacy.
Yet who are we to judge
that life of a fictional character
when our own
we feel,
we know
we have always believed to be
a mockery of our own desire
to be known with integrity
in my own society.
One could easily call it
a medication disorder,
and throw back 100 years
of research upon
the human condition.
The errors alone in
identity and sanity
would create in anyone’s mind,
a story of hardship,
greater than our own.
Bits and pieces of my life,
lay upon the shelves of
dusty pages of theory and philosophy
tragedy and pain,
perpetual journeys,
that exist only
because
the centuries before
our bodies would ever question,
mortality,
someone gave each one we know
an immortality
between the shelved parchment
of our imagination.
© Scott F Savage 20191029
I talk about things here,
sometimes only the surface
worry often the recipient
might find the strength …
Our lives are easily defined
fears, fascination, fantasy
each aspect an inspiration,
chosen or speculated.
In the scope of my life,
I’ve learned words,
specific to my personality
eccentric, abandoned, romantic.
I wish she might still …
well, the conversation has limits
I might wish to not understand,
hold onto that disbelief long as I can.
I wonder than about the scheme of things,
is there fairness in a one-sided appeal.
A long time ago it might have been so easy,
yet I couldn’t for reasons I cannot explain.
Though in soft moonlight and lush gardens
I have so tried, and lived such is a passion.
Perhaps we both felt the pain of a sadness,
while a personal affront seemed an expectation.
Today, the sun is brilliant in an autumn sky,
and all we might do is imagine – maybe alone.
A solo cloud crossed the horizon with normalcy,
an envious desire to hold another in my heart
nearby the elegance of nature and a mindful
struggle with a newly found lacking utterance.
Would we that did speak of an eternal affection
now decidedly find scrutiny sadly favorable.
We did travel, we did remind, we did imagine,
we did commit, we did respect – forever
we did love.
© Scott F Savage 2019
There are places I would to go,
nothing certain really,
only an experience outside of myself,
landing in one spot,
feet rooted,
the mind in a different horizon,
traveling forever to reach
some destination,
an acuity,
clarity,
the reason why,
suggestive appeal
that allows our lives to better
understand
who we might have been,
yet,
in a more acceptable,
– mannerism –
how we are meant
to live our lives,
in a world
driven by,
standard,
mechanical failures,
trivial circumstance,
rote imagined realities.
I stood outside today,
thought about the world
I once knew,
that oneness I believed
i would always cherish,
appreciate,
actually love,
and I discovered
the return of a tear.
© Scott F Savage 2019
This time of year,
the chill begins to settle
hearts speak a caution,
soul will wander alone
This time of year,
our memory is masked,
a desire to move forward,
a need to say good-bye.
This time of year,
always that wonder
the silence of an august
perhaps a bitter sunrise.
This time of year,
the shadows are nearing,
lives begin to settle,
cold winds ask forgiveness.
This time of year
we still feel so near.
© Scott F Savage 2019
I’m willing
I will sacrifice
happiness
somehow find your heart
miles away
still
the winds, the breeze
all remind of your favorite
testimony
‘listen to the winds change’
and I have,
every morning, night,
in a rainstorm,
I can hear you,
I imagine you,
straight through to my dreams
there is where I can be with you,
until opening eyes,
and relying upon
a gentle breeze
in the august of my life.
While a story could be thought of
we might al-ways cry a little while
Though I spoke of our own music
now I tear just a bit to wonder why.
We are still such quiet lovers
in silly way we walk away
every time we get a bit closer
we leave out love in silent calm.
Though the time we run for shelter
seems a harmonized regret we say
And the passions of our heartache
stays in line with a future time we may.
And with every breath we can gasp
the love we know will not go away
Oh to love one soul with the other
in our world, we’ll stay away
so the time we knew as lovers
left our mind in a somber way
we could always look at passion
for the way our lives would speak today
Oh I cry when knowing matter
will al-ways get in the way.
So the time we spent so together
will al-ways remind us why.
Will always remind us why.
© Scott F Savage
‘In My Life’ – Beatles inspiration
Without notice,
a shadow remains,
all signs of life
become only fantasy.
There once was time
we could depend upon
each other telling
ourselves everything.
Once in our lives
the impulse to love
seemed easy,
almost necessary.
When two soul
share a common desire,
it is possible
to find permanence.
Yet the heart is the ache
when confusion
speaks to the circles
inherent with insecurity.
That good-bye we might fear
becomes a silent reckoning.
© Scott F Savage 2019
 | a quiet man on Haiku Love |
 | Yernasia Quorelios on Haiku Love |
| a quiet man on I Took A Walk |
 | Priti on I Took A Walk |
| Priti on I Took A Walk |
Turning trauma into triumph since 1981.
Sometimes writing poems let's me forget about the huge sums of debt I'm accumulating while at college
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