A simpleton
would an archaic
shadow of slang
apply
a state of mind
to our spoils to our
flavor of the day
when wanton sacrifice
may –
better served
a wanderlust
tossed aside.
©️ Scott F Savage 7/2020
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Tag: #life
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Wandering Age
Posted at 1:24 am , on July 17, 2020
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My Partial Foreboding Self
Posted at 6:19 pm , on July 13, 2020
I have grown to be cynical
well beyond a childhood prank,
a good friend, close friend indeed
those formative years, we did
examine the culture of our lives,
high school rebellious
intimidating lies,
only trying to survive,
and yet,
what future would we,
could we possibly imagine,
beyond the luxury
in eschewing a cynic.
When I think about today,
I am a small man,
in a small world,
with stifled ideas
of who I am,
and when I reflect upon
the other days
of my life
decades of trial and error,
I wonder where is the growth
people say
occurs when we haven’t always
found our way.
I sometimes look at the life of others
the glamour and success,
seeming altered universe
beyond the who or where or why
that I
would rather imagine to be my
eye.
For it is that measure
of how we could
coincide
with the triviality of being
human
as an excuse rather than
an impediment
upon our lives.
Oh to know it is where I began
is a case of autumn
in its impact on my day,
for the lasting memory
of where I might have been
is now knocking
with an ever so haunting
rhythm
takes me through my hours
wishing only that
she
might join me in my
questions, my fears,
my insecurities
toward
knowing the partial
evolution toward
wanting to
‘be’
© Scott F Savage 7/2020
the ‘b’ series
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An Incomplete Life
Posted at 10:27 pm , on July 10, 2020
Stand still
the breeze will rustle
the brush, maples and lounging birch
always a reminder,
a human being in a posture
is only on tour,
graced with the beauty of nature
far beyond a purpose or meaning.
Standing on trails
no building in sight
sometimes a pleasure
we imagine we might
have a pause
from human nature
an opportunity
to feel the soil
between our toes
smell the fragrance summer flowers,
maybe lilacs if we catch
a breeze at a certain
hour of spring evolve toward temperatures.
Looking at the moon one night,
so complete
full and radiant,
thought about life,
my own,
my dreams,
inside her world
I could never seem to hold onto
the elegance of sweet wonder,
forever now
will my own imagination
wander in a quiet
composure.
© Scott F Savage 7/2020
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Distant Truth
Posted at 10:09 pm , on June 21, 2020
Should we live our life
Rife with pain so secretive
Hope is lost in strife
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mine is confusion
Posted at 1:23 am , on June 1, 2020
mine is confusion
my look
my glance
a picture cannot hold
a weight
inside the eyes.
mine is confusionthe world
around me burns
I miss
realizing the metaphor
when we would share eyes
mine is confusion
while the city
holds a promise
a memory
once alive
now a burden
mine is confusion
I’ll no longer lie
©️ Scott F Savage 5/2020
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This Is Who I Am
Posted at 2:33 pm , on May 19, 2020
I remember the first day, discovering a picture
that would step well into my childhood,
I had looked at it earnestly,
a fall afternoon,
the two of us in posture as children,
his the leather bomber jacket,
and me,
a sort of camel coat, endearing,
effeminate in relation to his own
though I didn’t know the meaning,
only my personal response.
I saw that picture within the time frame
before the snow fell,
it stayed with me,
defined me for the weeks ahead.
I could never decide whether I liked it or not,
certainly the memory together I will
always cherish,
the response from my own ego
as a nine year old,
causes my mind to wander,
and accept how that began my own
response
identity,
fear and perhaps
though again,
I couldn’t define the term,
agony of my departure
of confidence.
I wonder if today,
he would stand by my side,
and suggest,
cousin you are such the funny man,
there is unconditional love among idiots.
We would then laugh and go along our way.
© Scott F Savage 5/2020
the ‘b’ series
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Sleeping Until When
Posted at 2:25 am , on May 5, 2020
I took lines of pills
afterward alone again
lonely climbing hills
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Howling in the Distance
Posted at 8:58 am , on April 12, 2020
We are in such unknown territory,
our lives subjected to an invisible fear.
Last night I felt a quieting sensitive tear.
forced acceptance in horrifying history.
I cannot find a way to settle my nerves
it isn’t cabin fever as much as some sign
of wanting to stop my own incessant whine,
lives travel mountain roads in swerves.
Last night I listened to the winds in a howl,
the building shook and my windows rattled
I was not interrupted being stuck, saddled.
I couldn’t help noticing this menacing scowl.
In the winds of morning I did come to terms my own
life matters, be conscious, let the howling be known.
© Scott F Savage 4/2020
(for a dear friend I am grateful)
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Repeat Willing
Posted at 7:21 pm , on April 6, 2020
I wonder why I so easily found love,
a certain flattery perhaps,
a quiet afternoon, with a sense of passion
moving through the minds of travelers,
a cup of coffee,
a familiar posture,
and suddenly there began a return
in immediacy,
no need to wonder,
we knew decades before.
Yet when love
does become a primary mystique
in our lives,
the confusion we feel
is like the storm passing over
drops no rain,
only a hint of our
dependence on living inside
the climate of weather.
We could repeat,
take a risk,
and we did for a time,
while the world did continue
to exist
in whatever pattern of purpose
we might imagine.
I remember seeing the balance of weights,
offered our lives a reality of finding peace.
© Scott F Savage 4/2020
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If Clouds Would Speak
Posted at 9:06 am , on April 1, 2020
We could feel the rain
before it falls,
we could get a sense of our refrain
long before our fails.
Glancing upon the morning sky,
a streak of cloud
slide through the atmosphere,
it is that one warning peace – of mind
I’m alone at my own disposal,
an animal nearby is instinctual,
somewhat restless,
perhaps an intuitive concern.
I have a quiet demeanor,
as I see a world through the slats
of my apartment window,
this life I have now begun.
I wonder how easy it might be,
to not come back,
to suddenly be free,
less worry and all memory.
I would care about you,
wander in my ethereal
nightmare
hoping I may never hurt you.
Of course we all wish we knew,
sliding through the parallel
what would our universe be,
if a shadow could become our free.
I do think about that reality
that you and me we once used to be,
and now,
I haven’t any choice left to dream.
I only have what may be ahead of me,
in the privacy of my want to forever, see.
© Scott F Savage 4/2020
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