Tag: poetry

Torn In Two

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

Written November 21, 2009. An adventure of alliteration.

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Silence sounding a siren
Warning of this winter wind
Cold condolences carried through
Azure auroras above my dreams
Flights of fantasy flavor
A life lived less lavishly
Simplicity and safe slipping
Sultry seductions only seen in
Daydream delights

Still in silence stirring every sound
My heavy heart heeds to honor
The feeling forlorn following fleeting
Passion paled purposely
Trying to tame this tempest
Lashing laborious licks
Threatening this torn tenor
Saving some semblance of structure
While a winter witch
Whispers this wicked warning

As a tarot tells
Such solemn spells
Like wind song warnings
Heard time and time again
Disguised under daydream distractions
For better or for worse
Reactions recreate the reasons
While hope hurries tomorrows
And one more warning withers
Daring daydream delights

Broken

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

Broken
So often the word used to illustrate
The feeling of pain in a human state,
A weary mind, a spirit that yearns
A body crumbling as another year turns.

Age, makes no difference in the mind of a traveler,
Relative facts only help the moldy thoughts gather.
Age, relative of these as any other
Young or old
Timid or bold,
The pain you own is enough to smother
Thoughts of life lived to experience joy
Instead of the daily toils that we employ.

But I sit in a hovel pondering the weary
Contemplating on a life incomplete, and dreary.
Dreams escape and dreams eschew,
And dreams are only dreams when they never come true.

Broken thoughts of days gone past
Living in moments unable to last
Working toward better times not soon to come
Trying to hold each happy minute too quickly gone
Guided hands that create a euphoric high
And lifeless bodies spent side by side
Broken, cracking, blistered skin
Showing bones, bleeding sins, and worn too thin

Surrounding the shattered thoughts of a tired mind
Broken resonates as a ricochet report
Seeking a counsel for loving and kind
In a world determined to crumble all support
Ceasing and halting all trying to find
The safety from their storms in a familiar port

Keep your light shining bright
For the broken minds who seek through the night
To find another broken soul
Who understands this human toll

Incompletely

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

Originally written September 6, 2010

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Paper lies cover tight
Unfolded skin
Taken light
Where gaping wounds cry
Lacking eyes for sight
Crying from their vein
Begging to hear your voice
Speak my name
To see the echoes
Gather in crowds
Inside my brain
Sweating, seething
Crazy or sane

You can feel the past
And recreate it

It’s just never the same

Incomplete and broken
Where you once stood
Your love my only token
Giving rise to this flood
This emotion, hope and love
We give in to sheltered dreams
Happily ever-after scripts
Played out on our own silver screens
Fortune for the few
Fame for even less
More of us live askew
Dreaming of false success

But we all have hope
To make each day new
A chance
A ray of light
That brings our dreams into view

While sins we fail to fear
Consequences?
I’m well aware
Revealed when the voice that said
They are more than just words read
From a book of stories told
Fables falling from the fold
The icy waters that rush over stones
Washing the sins that stain the bones
Left by the choices of days past
In hiding places unable to last

And it was here when the voice
The voice said to me
“These memories you hold
Won’t set you free,
And the bodies in your basement,
You must let them be.
Piles of silver, galleons of gold,
And creature comforts,
Truth be told,
Won’t fill your heart
As you grow old
Your world will grow cold
And then, where will you be?
This life is the one,
The only one you’ll get.
Will you live it in full,
Or die in regret?
If you want to live it
In your own human way
Then lift up your roots
And enjoy every day
Break free from what binds you
And seek distant lands
Never look behind you
At the fallen sands,
Live your life true
And life will reward you!”

Words so irresistible
I had never heard
From voices more tangible
Or the echoes they stirred
But this stranger’s voice
Deep in the dark of my head
Left me no choice
When I heard the words that it said

I listened deep
And I took it to heart
Not in wake nor in sleep
But where should I start?
To embrace this life
This proposal so sweet
Would end all the strife
And sweep me off my feet
It would close a chapter
Leaving the past behind
And bury another body
In the basement of my mind

What is there to lose?
I pondered over and over again
Life will always change and move
No matter when or where I begin

So it all starts here
With a decision
And worry
And hope
Set the wheels in motion
Something a little more reasonable
Break away the corrosion
And get to something more feasible
Close my eyes and take a step
Feel the oceans hidden depth
Feel the clouds move again
Feel the rain that they send
Feel the Earth move at my feet
Feel the Sun’s eternal heat
Feel the Moon and the gravity
Feel destruction without calamity
Feel what I feel when I feel
And I feel this wound finally heal

And Nothing More

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

I

In his declaration, he astounds
His good intentions, in sucking grounds
Sinking in the depths of watery Earth
A muddy place of death and mirth
As bystanders watch amused
Nothing more.
Bleeding.
Bruised.

And nothing more.

Nothing more.

Trapped by roots, in a sullen town
Too broken for making speech or sound
Trapped between sky and ground
Not a heaven and hell
Just soles and crown
The hard trodden roads
Under street lights shining down

While the rest of life drowns

Heartless life made muddy brown
A soul left lost.
Tied.
Bound.

Weathered.
Tethered.

And there
His report was found

II

He had waited for his day of knowing
A day to reap all he had been sowing

His day for solace and understanding
Nothing special he was demanding
Just answers to his questions
And the fruits of his intentions
To the satisfaction
Of his innate curiosity

And nothing more.

Nothing more.

The why
Especially the why
There was never an answer to the why
And it haunted him
Lurching a black cloud above
On the sunny days
And times of love
Weeping tears and pain
Cold and drowning in this rain
Rolling down his creasing brow
Nothing that he can change now

He felt older
Older, not wiser
And left behind
With the broken arrows
Beneath the targets he could not pierce
Each one begging the question

Why?

III

Wistful scrawling
On the wall
Ceiling, floor and down the hall
Symbols, words and statements made
Begging for a barter trade
To make them real once again
Bring them to life was his plan
No breath, no sigh, no blood in vein
No beating heart, no thinking brain

Broken
Beaten
Spirit buried

No more this life
Would make him harried

Left with words and nothing more

And nothing more.

Nothing more.

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Originally written May 27, 2011

For The Ages

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

From December 2009

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Speaking as a matter of fact
He presses hard against his chest
Feeling the heart that beats within
Slowing to a pace more normal for him
“This change has come about,” he states,
“and I realize it combines our fates.
But less we hasten to a conclusion,
For together we can find a solution.”

He could do nothing as she parted
The unwinding of this threat had started
Without his knowing, just a hint
Although he knew it was merely a stint
Not life renown to be his own
Only a step for her as he was a stone
A support; a crutch to a future so great
And deep in his heart he knew he didn’t rate

With fond memories of what never would be
And a thought of what she couldn’t see
He stood with a tear rolling down his cheek
And wondering how he could be so meek
To let all of this slip away

But then he remembered…

The memory returned…

And he recalled that fateful day
Many years before they had met
A day no others would remember, I bet
The day he learned of this awful fact
Given in a lesson lacking tact

Unlovable
Unwanted
And easily forgotten

“Oh yeah,” he thought, “I guess I should let you go.
There is no way I could keep a girl like you
Such beauty; an angel on Earth you are
And me, just a dog groveling to be
Something more special to someone, you see
But this, us, this thing was never meant to be.
I wonder what you ever did see in me.
Something more than a forgettable wretch,
Better than dull and meaningless would be a stretch.
A provider perhaps, someone to care
When you were in a worse place than here
But now you’re on your way to better things
And I would only dampen your wings
So we will move on and you’ll be on your way
But, honestly, if I have to see you every day
I’ll probably go crazy, too crazy to discuss
Because my heart will never give up on us.”

Stone Ground

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

Lying on a bed of slate and stone
Spirit empty, for love unknown
Broken hearts mend slower than bone
Flesh stings from wounds not sewn
Body lacking both hearth and home

Something... Rome? Nome? Garden Gnome?

...and shit, now I've got nothing.

Sometimes my poems happen that way. I have such grandiose plans to make them something special, something emotionally challenging and stirring. Something that will take the reader's breath away. Then I lose my train of thought, and get lost in the words of others usually. It's different now than in the days when I would focus on music I can feel, the mind blanking white noise of jet engines and the body numbing release of drinking until I had my fill.

And here these words sit. Idle. Not moving. Not moving anything or anyone.

Maybe they should sit on their own. Maybe they need some accompaniment.

A photo? More verses? A quote that can give them balance?

If this was a piece of paper I would probably just spill some coffee on it for character...

Oh, and in case you missed it "Ground" in the title is a verb, past-tense. Not a noun.

Just clarifying.

Immortality

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

"If a writer falls in love with you, you will never die."

This highway teems alive at night
With dusty clouds in streaking lights
To guide the moths all seeking life
With the never near and never far
When two hearts find their missing part
Making the picture perfectly clear
This was what they needed from the start

Time divides in subtle ways
The life of love doesn't age with days
And when all else has failed, love remains
Not sunsets near, nor sunsets far
They cannot change hearts or stars
From beating bright into the night
And seeking each other in streaking lights

Regarding The Couple At The Table In The Corner

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

She folded a white linen napkin over her arm
And stalked away to find her friend
Her service is prompt and courteous
Attentive to every whim and every ask
But this afternoon with blushing cheeks
And a Cheshire grin
Eyebrows arched over squinting eyes
As she held back the laughter, boiling over
That she wanted to release with bellows
Unabashed and joyous

Her friend returned with his water pitchers
To refill and make another round
When she stopped him with a gesture to come closer
To a whisper's distance
As she muffled her words behind laughter

The couple at the table in the corner
Was the focus of her concern
There was an energy around them, she claimed
A glow as visible as golden sunlight in an azure sky
Their eyes are locked in focus on only each other
And although they are seated with their menus
Opened on the table before them,
Their meal doesn't seem to be a concern at all

She couldn't help but smile, it seemed
When she saw the smiles they had for each other
So how could she, in this moment so pure
Disturb them enough to do her job?

Again, she paused not understanding this sudden
Happiness that was washing over her
The tedium of another day of serving tables
Carrying trays, with aching muscles and a weary mind
And here in this moment, it had all washed away

She glanced around the restaurant at the tables high and low
Business men sat sipping amber drinks
Coldly appraising each others' worth
Couples sat in quiet conversation;
The events of the day, to escape their empty nests
Appreciations long since vanished from the cushioned comfort
Of a life bound by routines

A thought crossed her mind
There is no passion in routines.

Laughter from the corner table broke her thoughts
And a glance caught this unusual sight
Hands being held from across the table
And he leaned forward as a gentleman might
To place a gentle kiss on the back of her hand
Her heart picked up pace, as a bus boy
Delivered refills of water to the couple at the table in the corner
His eyes were met with smiles and instantly
The bus boy started smiling too
Smiles turned to laughter, a joke and honest play

Fun.

They were having fun.

She made a quick stride back to the table
For they certainly must be ready to order by now
And as she greeted them once more, they both smiled
Holding hands, and holding back the laughter
That bonded their moments into memories

Lost for words, and once again trying to contain her own laughter
The questions that came to mind had nothing to do with the menu

The questions rolled off of her tongue
And as if rehearsed, the couple at the table in the corner
Answered them one by one

It takes a youthful spirit to keep love alive
There is something to look forward to every day
It is a commitment not of solemn vows but of hearts
For words will fade like autumn leaves
While hearts are real
They're always real
And hearts can love, can grow, and can heal each other
Life should never be routine, for there is no passion in routines
And schedules should always leave room for something new
A moment can be an adventure, a moment can be a lifetime
And a moment can mean so much more, even to those around you
So never be stingy with smiles for each other
For everyone you touch
Because a smile can make someone's day better

And with that answer, he took her hand
And helped her stand from her seat
He gently brushed her long, white hair back and kissed her cheek
Their eyes met, as he picked up his cane
Placed his hand on her hip, and danced her away
Leaving their happiness behind for someone else's day

Those are lessons never lost
To help make cold days warmer
Like a gift that is free of cost
From the couple at the table in the corner

Broken Threads

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

I lost myself on purpose in the glint of her eyes,
a flash of her smile and the joyous vibrations
set in motion by the contagiousness of her laughter.
An evening given by each other, to each other for
no purpose other than to mend the broken threads
of heart stings carelessly cut by the knives and
daggers of others.

Of lovers.

Those past reflections seem magnified in tear filled eyes;
blurred and bulbous, blown out of proportion, but still
significant in their weight when tied to a thread so thin.

Her hand found mine near the edge of the table, or maybe
my hand found her's. Something about such synchronicity.

Such simplicity.

Golden flames radiated from the flowery centerpiece.
The scent of a garden in spring time; the warmth of
the sun smiling happily as if it were a child again.
I could smell her sunshine as she warmed my skin. I
could feel hope rise with a quickening pulse. Perhaps
life could hold the promise of those youthful dreams.

Or so it seems.

And when the coffee was set, the night was nearing its
close. Soon we would walk under the starry skies, and
the moon's judging eyes. The unwilling separation of
love and laughter into separate lives. But a thread
mended and another thread tied, hope restored and a kiss
to taste the sugary sweetness of her lips. Let the moon
watch what it has seen in the streets, the fields and
in between. Hearts need hearts to mend.

Happiness should know no end.