When we wish
feel a warmth
inside
touch our soul
might the world know
we who wonder
would, could, want
this love
an imagined feeling
deep inside
the root of who we are
chasing hearts
in a silent repose.
©️ Scott F Savage 11/2020
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Tag: quiet
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Quiet Love
Posted at 12:23 am , on November 18, 2020
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A Silent Refuge
Posted at 11:42 pm , on October 5, 2020
Oh people speak
they don’t know the truth
inside a hidden
state of mind.
~
We might alllook at the moon
walk away
feeling less in tune.
~
Yes we don’t speakfor to reveal ourselves
might risk this our humanity.
~
Lost inside fearis a one time ability
to express
natural compassion.
~
Insteadwe do shelter lives
when personal tragedy
defines loss.
~
Oh we don’t speakthough inside
we imagine the
creaking bend
an old stairwell,
the one that haunted
what once …
~
a beginning.
©️Scott F Savage 10/2020
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Keeping Secrets
Posted at 12:57 am , on April 3, 2020
I wish I could
vanish into the night
a rainstorm
wet pavement
running culverts
all indicators
that can only be visible,
hard to hide a
spring storm,
hard to imagine
a life lost found.
I’d like to experience
a ‘New York Minute’
Don Henley
speaking to the fear,
a man has
living inside
a silent storm,
the effect of which
can only be felt
when walking
inside a river of tears.
I wish I might disappear
my secrets no longer fear.
© Scott F Savage 4/2020
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I Took A Walk Today
Posted at 7:39 pm , on March 31, 2020
It wasn’t with you,
nor her,
a stranger I suppose,
someone with a heart.
a value for life, for love,
the human compassion of a giving soul,
yet,
it wasn’t you,
nor her,
a stranger I suppose
someone with a heart
that left me feeling more alone,
than I might ever imagine,
a flood of tears would
follow then,
in the quiet of a lovely spring night.
A sunset over the horizon
slowly dipping into the clouds,
but yet enough to want to share
with you,
not her,
and this stranger so kind and giving
yet still
I left the walk
and felt the tears begin to gather,
so many questions,
such wonder
how could it be that I feel so lost
when I am giving this new identity
a home in my own silent self.
It wasn’t with you,
nor her
a stranger I suppose
someone with a heart.
I found myself crying alone,
wondering if there may ever be … you.
© Scott F Savage 3/2020
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Feeling Redundant
Posted at 7:37 pm , on March 29, 2020
Well wonder
what might be
swirling winds nearby
haunting rafters
in certain communication.
Love does not
will not
while routines find purpose
there in the silence
runs the conscience
that place private
where quiet smiles
mean less the obvious
stead discretionary
yearn.
A hope he carries across the citymight be a flash
a moment
when she
when an owl
simplicity
gave melody in the night.
©️ Scott F Savage 3/2020
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This Quiet Refuge
Posted at 11:42 pm , on March 16, 2020
I can feel the silence around me
a steady wind outside whistles free
well beyond my state of mind
life’s normalcy sweet remind.
The world in a panic a lonely
refuge becomes a challenge ably
fought by one with strength –
lead beyond any sorrow’s length
I want a silence I can feel
not a mandate in reveal
I feel my peace is a weep
lost in fallow might I leap
Real tears as I do find words
mark my sadness so absurd.
© Scott F. Savage 3/2020
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Walk Inside My Mind
Posted at 7:27 pm , on March 9, 2020
While life travels forward,
the steps backward are waiting,
a quiet reminder
a silent reflection
all become aspects of our interior,
that piece of our lives,
though we might desire,
keeps a constant wall upon our soul.
Though I choose to try
to cry through my pain,
though each morning, night,
in a day I can imagine every aspect
of what love meant – this wonderful
energy. This beauty and grace
within the fabric
of our imagination.
I do step forward,
do try to simply by memory
allow time to heal,
and yet,
where is the piece of my life,
sustain a certain eloquence, that is the remarkable nature
of love,
that part of a long string
of thought.
cannot be broken apart.
If she could, without several, independent
of a history of doubt, just one walk inside.
©Scott F. Savage 3/3030
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This Place
Posted at 8:16 pm , on March 4, 2020
I’m afraid of it
this place
with so much discontent
our lives
wrapped in a purpose
yet the soft touch of beauty
when held alone,
away from our heart
gives strenth
to an irrational
option.
There is no singular reason
to imagine that compassion
only lends to individual
memory.
Yet there is,
if you think about it,
a truth to feeling loved.
When love is lost both outside
and inside our realm
of quiet existence,
it might be difficult to imagine
anything else
really will matter.
I remember one time,
walking along the shoreline,
icy depths,
I imagined
the length of time,
wading into the pool of our
natural purpose.
There is every night,
I think about that place,
if I leave here
so many memories,
so many eyes,
I’m grateful for the beauty
knowing we can be ‘great.’
in the short hours of our
quiet release of emotion.
I stood nearby the final release of
carbon
would no longer interfere
with that ozone layer
we all worried about in the 60’s.
another six decades later,
it is like I am sitting on that little hill
with the gravel path
led me to my solace.
Nothing had changed, my life,
a constant battle
trying to recognize
beauty rather than desecration.
When we fail, we might choose to prevail.
© Scott F Savage 3/2020
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Rage
Posted at 6:21 pm , on December 23, 2019
Difficulty
in answer
a schism thought
less responsive toward
quiet departure.
Yet remains
a silent revenue
of impassioned truth
such is a denial
I may never accept.
Would that
I might sweet suggest
a thoughtful recall
when smiles and eyes
could real remind.
All this pain
the result of me.
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This Quiet Man
Posted at 10:05 pm , on December 17, 2019
Sitting in the waiting room,
another session,
a disclosure,
or perhaps not as much
as it might be a listen,
lots of eye contact
counting upon guidance,
when realizations might bring the human condition
to stand alone and share the moment,
with each other
with a stranger
a trustworthy confidante
sorting through their own denial,
or is it comfort,
a satisfaction allows the moment
to be just that,
a quiet transport.
He walked in looking,
completely aware
everyone around him,
living lives,
showing a familiar glance,
and yet,
still could he ever possibly,
let go of that one day in December,
when over a year ago,
a couple,
did suddenly recognize
their own fallibility,
and yet still,
and yet even when opposed,
still did they choose
to hold one another,
allow compassion,
to design their passion
for one another
sweep me toward a new arena of emotion.
I would or will not,
or wish, perhaps would rather
not
ever forget
that beauty, her persona,
this lovely nature of a sweet sensuality
entered my world
while I in my own quiet arena,
stood alone against the world,
wondered again,
if ever I might love
with such a sense of release,
my emotions my own,
yet confident
when her touch,
hands, eyes, shoulders, skin
might surround my world,
could become my world,
if only for this
moment,
quiet reflection,
a quiet moment,
this quiet man,
shhh … eyes
© Scott F Savage 2019
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