Gifts

Walking about, without purpose or doubt

Trepidation and angst, wanting to shout

Fraud, Fraud, Fraud is all that you are

Your gifts are empty, your presence we bar.

 

But the barring won’t come, there’s none who suspect.

That there’s nothing of hope or of joy i inject.

Merely I take, and I squander and ruin.

The opportunities others, would give their whole due in.

 

I can’t give all I should, and try to repent.

but next darken a door, with kindness unspent

 

 

Alone in a Crowd

Upon a long and rocky shore

I looked out screamed ‘at last no more’
A frail and broken cry that grew

Into the sea which never knew

The pain that welled within my heart

Cold and strange, through unknown part

 

The sea so blue, so fresh and true

Couldn’t listen to the words I threw

 

Gentle roaring, surf sublime

My voice catching, salted brine

Ne’er to reach another ear

Though I’m shouting very near
Sea so blue, so brown, so green,

Windows but no truth to glean

Washing forward like a tide

But my truth it won’t abide

 

Though I long to join the sea

My belonging there shall never be.

 

For more of my poems click here.

 

 

 

Bittersweet

Flavors swirling, catching, changing

Experiences developing, immutable yet ranging

Dry eyes, full of scorn

Tears drip, newly borne

 

Bittersweet is the wine of life

poured carelessly, barely tasted

lovingly bottled, preserved, and rife

Enjoyed, hated, protected, wasted

 

Decanter open, smells unleashed

proudly displayed, ashamedly fleeced

bad vintage, bad year, faultless, fear

tended, cared, loved so near.

 

The steps we take

Moving forward, stepĀ  by step

left foot, right foot

fake, smile, prep

 

Morning sunrise, sleeping moon

left foot, right foot,

be there soon

 

one by one, thousand by thousand

left foot, right foot

keet my vows and,

 

change by change, moments stick

left foot, right foot

click clack click

 

Heart heavy, feelings high

left foot, right foot,

relax and sigh.

 

 

Fly on the wall

I’ve always longed to be

a fly on the wall

To hear and see

but do nothing at all

 

I yearn for the truths

we don’t tell other people

like old timey sleuths

hiding in personal steeples

 

My own story is hard

not easy to share

each person does guard

the truths we can’t bare

 

I yearn for the freedom

to hear from some other

the tales that precede’em

my own, did not smother.