He found himself alone
sipping coffee
a quiet around him,
a ceiling fan
a coffeemaker
sweet thunder outside
rain pellets on window sills.
He could feel silence
with every breath,
he would exhale pain
inhale beauty and love,
He could feel her soul
today
in the quiet,
his heart would yearn
solitude in solace.
Haven’t a place to begin
sorting through old tapes.
The aftermath,
sometimes would chase me in
leaving little remaining wrath,
only hope and peace but running laps.
Haven’t found a solution
only a quiet, a reckoning.
She is a quiet love
skies above
would speak of her
dismissing the other
the trials of living sane
would mock her insane
outlook on life
filled with a strife.
It is in the union of peace
all the old tapes would release.
© Scott F Savage 10/2021
Always in the back of my head
I have a responsibility
Given free reign, drive ahead
figure out culpability.
~
I remember when I did
where I was and what was said
~
Standing on the bridge that afternoon
we could feel the river below us
swoon and listen to the birds in tune
the moment is ours we did, well was.
~
I wouldn’t forget a face like yours
she cried, he feared, a shadow near.
Wasn’t anything left, no befores
Now is when the dances end I fear.
~
I remember when I did
where I was and what was said.
© Scott F Savage 9/2021
~
We stood inside this harmony
listening to a quiet Moon,
our hearts together some melody
we would only lose too soon.
~
One kind of love she would say,
meant to live only in fantasy.
One kind of life she would say,
meant without any scrutiny.
~
He would call out definition.
She would criticize it cryptic
his loss would be no solution
to a quiet moon for a skeptic.
~
Whenever I might again return
sort of memory driven and familiar
I’d always hope for and yearn
some reminder we’ve been together.
~
chorus
~
Under the moon, an autumn summer
Is where I belong in some forever
Under the moon, an autumn moon
©️ Scott F Savage 8/2021
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
Oh people speak
they don’t know the truth
inside a hidden
state of mind.
~
We might all
look at the moon
walk away
feeling less in tune.
~
Yes we don’t speak
for to reveal ourselves
might risk this our humanity.
~
Lost inside fear
is a one time ability
to express
natural compassion.
~
Instead
we do shelter lives
when personal tragedy
defines loss.
~
Oh we don’t speak
though inside
we imagine the
creaking bend
an old stairwell,
the one that haunted
what once …
~
a beginning.
©️Scott F Savage 10/2020
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
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
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 city
might be a flash
a moment
when she
when an owl
simplicity
gave melody in the night.
©️ Scott F Savage 3/2020
Sometimes writing poems let's me forget about the huge sums of debt I'm accumulating while at college
"To be loved and love at the highest count, means to lose all the things I can't live without. Let it be known that I will choose to lose, it's a sacrifice, but I can't live a lie" -Adele-
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Concerning All Types Of Relationships
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