Waldeinsamkeit
I stand alone amid the green
and give voices to the failing trees.
Enthroned at the heart of the world,
my land ripples out beyond me.
I am lord of the leaves,
king of the canopy,
and yield my divinity to none.
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L’esprit d’escalier (the spirit of the staircase)
The bitter words and screams and shouts
as they laid their grievances out
echoed off the very walls,
echoed down the empty halls.
Their clamor shook the wooden beams,
tempers whistling through the seams.
Their words and tempers were so crass,
they nearly cracked the windows’ glass.
They left no hurtful words unsaid
favoring their pride instead
as they tried to save face,
as they tried to leave that place.
Now the house stands, cold and bleak,
quiet but for every creak
of one who walks with teary eyes
for kindnesses unrealized.
Sacred Flame
True Fire, born of the spark;
Blue Fire, trickster in the dark.
Bright Fire, boon for the bless’d;
Blight Fire, to deal with the rest.
Bold Fire, strong and stout;
Old Fire, near burned out…
Identify
“Who are you today?”
“I’m doing quite well, thank you.”
“No, no – not how, who?”
Contact
I don’t know who you are
and I do not know your name;
No, I’m not asking for your number
nor do I want in your pants;
But while I want you to pay attention to me,
that isn’t why I’m talking with you;
And while it is about loneliness,
I don’t feel lonesome right now;
It’s about making a connection
with a fellow human being
and lighting another candle
to help us all make it through
those long winter nights.
Inner world wisps
The sky is empty
but for the clouds and the meaning we find in them.
I am empty
save for the wind and the clouds
howling through the never-ending sky inside of me.
The Prelude
Enthralled by your sensual charms,
I pull you tight into my arms
and I can taste within your kiss
what is, at once, both hell and bliss.
And I can see the look in your eyes
of your nightly hunger on the rise
and see your face grow faintly red
as you slowly move toward the bed…
If you like this, head over to fellow poet/blogger Renee Mastersen’s site and check out some of her lovely work.
Threadbare
I wear my melancholy
like an old, worn-in suit
whose every crease and seam
I know so well that I
can bend over without
making an ass of myself.
Desperation
Only one way out
and that way is guarded by
ninja assasins,
lions and tigers and bears
my, oh motherfucking my…
A (wise) man of two faces 