Tag: poetry

Tearing Down A Canvas

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

System primed and all is a go
Like bodies in their younger years
Stem to stern but starting slow
Held by broken hopes and fears

Tangled twine and twisted time
Gives not way nor right
We take each day line by line
Chin high we stay in this fight

Heart strings tied to broken shards
Secured too loose for binding hearts
Not strings of lutes strum by the bards
In a romantic time apart

Still threadbare cloth doth cover skin
Keeping neither heat nor shame
Exposing tiny cracks and sin
Leaves the wearer seeking flame

Tired minds and tired eyes
Strain to just maintain
The willing body will subside
And time will always reign

A Door Opens

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

A door swings open
And the cold air rushes in
Ahead of the weary figure
Another cold night
A place far from home
Again feeling this pain
Amid the miles
And the faces of strangers
Alone and segregated
Another cold night
Alone in this room
Ambiance lacking substance
A bed
A lamp
A place to sit
A place to rest
Among the scattered papers
All falling like the snow
A drape on his shoulders
As his breath hangs in the air
Acrid and cold
Anguish and trying
Alone in this room
Abandoned to this existence
Abused and discarded
Another night
Another cold night
Alone
Alone in this room

Coming Around Again

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

You take me back
Memories so still
Of summer's breeze and winter's chill
You silently plead with a child's will
To be safe, held tightly in my arms
Lifting you up, to keep you from harm
Don't let this mood be your alarm

Like the moon and my sin
This will come around again

Our cycles abound
These cycles come around
Dragging cycles over ground
In celestial joy
The cycles resound

While we bend the sky
Across horizons wide
And with them meet,
the curve of your eye
And all my sins will be magnified

But still you remain of silent will
Cradled safely in my arms so still
Like summer's breeze and winter's chill
My love will come around again

High Above

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

Under a sky
So odd to me
Climbing on high
A feeling so free

Inspiration from a dream
Inspires but only for a day
Inspires to what is seen
Inspiration will fade away

High above the lights below
A city cuts the darkest night
A million fires burning slow
A million hearts holding tight
A million loving hearts will show
A million hearts with love they might
And although I'm high, my heart is low

Lost

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

Start your search for where I sit
Lost in music, thought and alcohol.
Where I'll be digging through the darkened folds of my mind
Searching for the words to express the feelings in my heart.
Tearing open my skin to let out what is within
And expanding my reach to embrace everything that life can bring.

Remind Me Again

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

The morning light strikes
My closed eyes squeezing tight
I roll across the bed
And rest a hand on a
Cold and empty place
Feeling nothing
Alone

The smell of coffee brewing
Its rich scent
Like nuts harvested in autumn
Roasting on the top of an old
Black iron stove
Taking the chill
From the morning air
The inky dark liquid slowly
Filling the glass pot
And the smell…
The smell…
Reminds me again…

The cold tile floor
Tells my feet to step quickly
To the task of this day
Coaxed on by desire
And this hot cup cradled
Between my hands
Alone

The day will come and go
With the sun’s high arc
Across the pale blue sky
The clouds sweep by
Over my head as
Billowing majestic towers
In the sky
Molding the light through
Shadows and hope
The hope…
Reminds me again…

I watch the day wane
Into twilight
The orangey clouds
Shed their faux glow
And I grow gray
With the evening clouds
Alone

A rumble above
Flashing lights traveling
Through the pinwheel of light
Presenting in the clear night sky
A single cloud above me
Full of puffy white edges
That give way to the gray shadow
It has become
And the flashing lights disappear into it
A childhood fantasy and a wish
The wish…
Reminds me again…

I step back inside
To a place so unfamiliar
Here is what I need
But missing so much
I wander a stray line
Feeling that cold tile floor
Alone

Rocks of water
Clank on thick glass
The clear liquid poured on
Illuminates the crystalline
And silver stones
Carving their new form
With its edgeless knives
A weapon I take in
More willingly then when the
Rocks themselves give up
Their form
And the warmth fills me
The warmth…
Reminds me again…

The song plays in my head
Inviting me to
Rest my eyes
Before the morning sun
Showers them with
The awakening of a new dawn
Alone

The glasses empty
One by one
And the song remains the same
The rising voices fill
My mind wandering
To a time the song
Haunted my dreams
With a fear and pain
A tear rolls solemnly
Smiling to hear the song
The song…
Reminds me again…

A noise
But there is nothing
A smell
But there is nothing
A taste and a feeling
But there is nothing

But alone

And all this to remind me again…

Empty Glass of Whiskey

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

Originally written January 3, 2009

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

A muse by this time would have found
The words that set the feelings
The feelings to put into words
Stagnant and stalled
The blank sheet of white
Mocks my hands to inaction
As I watch the syrupy drips
In the empty glass
Cast snail path trails on my desk

Where my stomach has joined my heart
And tightened ribs can only grasp
Quick gulps of poisoned air
I sit
Unable to move
Powerless to call to action
My mind or my pen
Incapable of escaping
The thoughts that drown
My swelling mind
My aching mind
Unwilling to be broken
By the world resting on my back

For this
Is not my life
But that which I have borrowed
And the memories I have created
Are not mine
Only shallow pools of reflections
On days gone by

The blank page still stares back
Past the empty glass
As ripples form in the pool
Reminding me of that time
And I pause….

Thoughts In Process

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

City streets
City lights
Night breaks
The comfort of day
And the Mayflies play
Bounce and turn
Inside the music sounds
Breasts heave
Hips sway
The rhythm of life
This rhythm of night

New found glory
Before the same old story
Hurting, helping
Trying, dying
A rise, a fall
Hoping time will stall
And give us time
Before our decline
To make a mark
Bold and stark
Forever remembered
In the ashes and embers
That was a life born
Not one to mourn

Stiffening thoughts disturb an inner peace
A tranquility once so taken for granted
On paving stones and hard metal decks
Up steep gravel paths and sharp declines
Moments
Quiet and unassuming
Like the summer brook
After the spring rains pass
No longer swelling with the torrents
Unable to consume everything it is given
Taking more and seeking more
And finding more to take
Flowing rivers pulsed
With white capped waves
Then a peaceful silence
Anticipating the next storm
The next change in season
The next rise and fall
And there we were
Tangled within each other
Seeking anything but the tranquility

Clear skies and cold air
Winter pours in through every crack
Left by the leafless trees
Crosshatch shadows in moonlight glow
Show pieces to the puzzle
Colors and words
Spirals and arms
Blur and crawl before tired eyes
Saunter to and meander fro
Making their paths here and there
While cold sheets invite naked skin
To make them comfortable later
Before saline streams
Break from the cracks and frown
Missing parts and lost directions
Leave this creation incomplete
Painted pictures provide a proof of
Existence only within the imagination
But then there she is
Welcoming a broken soul
To heal within these fleshy comforts
Believing the real and forgoing the dreams
Giving life to what can be
What would be made
Without the guide to show
A craft not hammered on an anvil
Or fired to boil
Yet molded in a more gentle way
As she traces these lines
Hands that whisper
With a gentle touch
Of happier days gone by

Fifty-Two Hertz

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

http://52thesearch.com/

52-Blue: The Loneliest Whale

"Calling out at 52 Hz, a frequency unrecognized by other whales, this mysterious creature is believed to have lived its life in solitude. It calls forever unanswered by its own kind. In our ever-present fascination with these majestic beasts, the tale of “52” has prompted an intense reaction amongst our own species, pointing to a greater awareness of human loneliness than ever before."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Sounds emit,
But I don’t have a voice.
Bound to submit,
And I’m left with no choice
I will walk alone
My words go unheard
Their love is not shown
Compassions unstirred
It is a lonely road
To be misunderstood
Inky depths are my fold
Moving on, that I should
Through the heartless cold
Love cannot be mine
Hope I will always hold
And you know I will be fine

Fifty-two Hertz
Fifty-two Hertz at a time.