Tag: Poetry

A Hundred Lifetimes

If I live

a hundred lifetimes,

some more glamorous than this;

some perhaps,

even poorer,

I will find

the same lonesome places

where I will sit contemplating

a hundred stories

to be told

a hundred different ways,

over and over

until the world

is a hundred times

a less lonely place. 

---

The world may change

a hundred times over,

grow a hundred years older,

as long as I am in it

in a hundred different forms,

I will find

one pen

to inscribe

a hundred different truths,

one stage

with a hundred different players

to share it with, 

in all the little corners

until we are found. 

---

And in each lifetime, 

you may wear

a hundred different faces;

I will keep finding

one 

in which your soul belongs.

And I will offer

a hundred different songs

and a hundred more,

to remind you

of the hundred different ways

I chose you,

over and over

until you understand

there is no life I’d want more. 

---

A Hundred Lifetimes

February 21, 2022

A Drop of Honey

I want to hear

the first rush of air

you breathe

when the blue jays sing

their morning song

as I turn to find you

beside me,

and rest my head

on your bosoms as they heave

as they did

a little too heavily

on the eve

of the first of many

sunrises 

we will greet together.

---

I want to see

the sunlight touching your face

as you smile

when you see me by your side,

to bask in the brightness

of your eyes

where falls

a drop of honey

as did a few

from the deep caverns

of your body

down to my lips

the night before. 

---

I want to taste

the sweetness

of a new day

with you close by,

to smell

the first morning brew

we will drink together, 

and drink again

from each other’s souls

the secrets

we can no longer hold

come nightfall. 

---

A Drop of Honey

February 15, 2022

If I Never Say the Words

And if I never say the words

I almost said a thousand times, 

remember how I said them 

anyway—

how I whispered in the silence

the things I long to scream,

          in rhymes,

how I blew kisses for you

          across the distance, 

          across the miles. 

For in the darkest of nights,

I still found you

and cradled you in my arms;

remember I will always

          keep you warm.

Every morning I greet you

and before you close your eyes, 

remember how you wish

          you could flee

from the confines of your room

          to be next to me. 

---

If I fail to say the words

before I run out of time,

remember how I told you

          of my crimes,

how I showed you my scars,

and how you touched them

          gently 

          from afar. 

And when the rain is pouring

          too heavily, 

remember, I will be here

          to be your canopy.

For each time I make you smile,

each time I draw out

          your laugh,

remember that for me, 

          it is more than enough

to get me through the day

          and when nights are rough. 

---

And if I cannot yet

          say the words

you’re not ready to hear, 

remember I will always be near;

          when the time is right,

          I will so recite

the words I can no longer

          keep out of sight. 

But if I never say the words

I wish to say a million times,

remember how I said them

in every way—

how I’ve been your ambient sound

when it was too quiet 

          or too loud;

remember I will always be

          around. 

---

If I Never Say the Words

February 8, 2022

They Sing of Us

Faint, gentle,

the distant singing;

I hear them every morning

as the first wind blows,

carrying their voices

to my sluggish ears,

rousing me from dreams,

calling to my heart

with a careful legato,

to the tune of your name. 

I wake to greet another day

in a world made beautiful

by your presence. 

---

As you turn

to open your eyes,

I touch your face

through the ray of sunlight

sneaking into your window 

while their voices soar

to a grand crescendo

as they sing of us,

and slowly

glide to a low hum

to let us know

the world is alright;

the world is brand new. 

---

They Sing of Us

February 2, 2022

When Night Stole Daybreak

Rain washed paradise

of its fiction;

the pink pigments in the sand, 

the figments in the island’s

mirage-like glass walls

where dance the silhouettes 

of movie stars

off a black-and-white picture,

melting away

with the sporadic heat

of the sun.

Where for but split seconds come

the spark of daylight, 

dimmed away

each time the winds blow. 

---

There it settled 

above me

as truth did

in the warm afternoon glow;

a set of pearls

radiating

from the other side

of my window—

only my soul could reach. 

For but one morning,

it was mine;

I owned paradise

before the squall poured

and night stole

daybreak. 

---

When Night Stole Daybreak

October 12, 2021