I would like to be a writer. I began this site with amorous intentions, and over the course of time, I hope to have evolved as a male in an ever changing society that is today, recognizing the true beauty and elegance of woman. I am also into writing poetry. Come along for the ride.

Posts tagged “life

If She Might Listen


If only,

in that moment,

when I might know,

advances were of an innocent nature,

she cried inside,

not letting me ever see her pain,

yet I was the bewildered one,

now with a stain,

a lasting impression,

I would carry with me forever.

 

I suppose it is that patriarchal significance,

always knowing,

self-assured and callous,

anticipating the world to be our measure

of decency,

yet in that quiet memory,

I do recall her laughter,

it did,

bring us to the top of the mountain,

just the ledge,

the ledge that kept testing balance,

would never have held us both.

 

In lasting memory,

I always do replay the moments,

when somehow,

I hesitated,

and she would later,

have a confusion,

I can only hope would someday

turn a smile.


Simple Melody


I listen,

the hours ahead,

I try to understand,

the world I live in,

how it all connects,

why it does,

when I wonder,

how long does it take,

I move to another theory,

run the course of imagination,

only to discover,

I see it,

I can understand it,

though I don’t want it.

 

I travel some more,

walk around the corner,

find a new glint of light

upon a distant, fading horizon,

and I settle in,

recall and remind,

I look to the future,

wonder about what might be inside,

a dream I had the other day,

that damn dream,

comes and goes,

oh how I wish it would stay,

shelter my fears,

such a beautiful dream,

is,

her.


Why Waiting Matters


If there could be a measure of time,

the importance of a want,

turns suddenly toward need.

If in a way a person could bottle their emotions,

so that,

in a minute of an hour,

one might share with another their desire.

Then there would be an answer,

one that might recall a design,

meant to powder the other with love,

meant to be frozen in time.

 

If there could be another world,

where suddenly I could hold her,

and the skies would brighten,

flowers bloom,

the magic of our horizon

might follow our quiet desires,

so I could shout upon a mountain,

how beautiful is your soul.

 

If there might be another world …

would you be there?


An Honest Appraisal


Just seems natural,

to feel the quiet of recognizing

human nature,

and how it applies to

other people.

 

We seldom wish to look at our

selves,

too much scrutiny,

too easily defined, while in the midst

of accepting our realities.

 

Seems just the other day,

I noticed her,

walking through a room,

of complete strangers,

all within reach.

 

yet, it is that presence,

isn’t it always,

triggers our response

to some adoration beyond our

selves.

 

Today, I’m in that same room,

they’re dressed differently,

something about an arts colony,

seems the same energy,

drives their own need for legacy.

 

Oh, we are a feathered bunch,

this lightness of the mind,

being our intrigue,

yet so easily defined,

we lose any unique grasp.

 

As honest as my world might be,

given the constraints I place before my eyes,

I like to live, laugh, breathe,

hold an occasional dialogue,

and in the end, I love to believe.

 

I suppose we are all the same,

just different energy, all the same.


Settle In


For now is this brief telling

of a society, a world, a small neighborhood,

this is the story

of you, and me, and the neighbors,

the kid running the sidewalk

free.

We are going another direction

tonight, to a time, or maybe a familiar

reason to act this way,

let’s all pile in,

and witness the same over there.

 

For the have that you speak of need,

might lessen the burden for a not,

it depends,

if little houses seem the pattern,

then certain marble castles,

with gigantic columns

would suffice

only in a dream.

 

I’m talking about hair nets and fry cooks,

a lavender sport coat in the rain,

a polished makeover that let’s another

in their moment of truth, complain.

It is easily recognized in the car

she drives, for when he once did,

she became less incredulous

knowing

she could always do the same.

 

Let’s remember when,

our childhood brought us to a field,

where we play for hours, just with the

tall grass and sweet rains that

gave our hearts a reason to breathe.

For that’s when,

everything else,

all the crying would end,

and a body alone,

could settle in to experience peace,

in the quiet rain.


Real Pain Versus Hollywood


life

She broke my heart today,

an actor trails off to a setting in a bar,

a drink in front of him he slowly circles the glass with his fingers,

his eyes seem to say,

she is the one that broke my heart, not me.

Here at home, I haven’t any facade to count upon,

only my life, my heart, my soul,

my who I am suddenly trapped inside this world of quiet

facade,

for that is what we are after all, much like Hollywood.

We play our role, we dance a number,

sing a song sweet melody,

the world is a happy and fulfilling place,

in celluloid visual special effects.

Here at home my tears are real,

and yet,

while I am here and she is there, and we are both

miserable;

our lives we find some healing grace,

and we’ll move on with only a nostalgic tear …

 

I guess after all life is a film studio..


Inside a Dream


When surreal begins to blend

our lives in a circle of fantasy

peddle a rhythm to depend

to fuel, imagine a wait and see.

~

We do try to recognize humble

outpourings of human condition.

What happens to our slow tumble

when love loses its basic fortune.

~

Do we stand up and begin a dream,

a matter of stepping outside chance

to weather the storm to what seem

shallow ignorance, a robotic trance

~

So let maybe your life speak release,

the delicious nature of a wanton peace.