Life Before

I stand before this open door,

gazing back at life before.

I dare not pass beyond and lose,

the memory of me and you.

Aghast I stand against these waves,

of love to which we are slaves.

We loved and lost and now are ‘free’,

I wonder at what’s left of me. 

Did I do right in slipping loose?

Hearts are crushed by tightened noose.

The smells and warmth of love’s sweet song,

my mind it dwells on what is gone.

I must move on and face the storm,

of life and of this fresh new dawn.

But for now I stand before this door,

gazing back at life before.

Wilting

It seems unfair that I am the hammer and not the nail.

My worth is expanded through the mind of one who does not know me well enough it seems.

To trust me with your heart is putting faith in an unlocked cage,

one that is rusty and unfit. 

I cut myself off once from the danger of emotion,

the time has come again. The risk is too great.

Confession

It has been 6 weeks since my last confession, and these are my sins.

I am rotten inside,
I am Dorian Gray without the beautiful face. My portrait weeps memories and not all of them sparkle. Cancel my meeting, I must look in the mirror, good morning narcissus.

I am the spool, spilling my seed of corrosive cotton. I unravel like time in loops and leaps and bounds.

Stretch me out and set your alarms, I’ll scream ’till dawn scrapes at your window. I am empty, apathy beats its bare hands on my future.

I recount the passion of Christ and all I see in the mirror is Judas.

I’m just a man. Walking in the shadow of the valley of life.

Apathy

Never did I think I’d be one, to sit amongst time,

languishing in mine own ineptitude, to deal with daily grinds.

But here I sit and ponder, watching the seasons dance,

beyond mine own perception, gone are they with a glance. 

Step up I tell myself, on days like the present day, 

shake mine own fist at the world, refuse to wilt and stay.

But apathy is a killer, a slow and dreadful foe,

fighting mine own inner drives, to find destiny’s eager glow.

Never did I think I’d be one, to sit amongst time,

but here mine own path is lost, so I sit and make a rhyme.

Starling

Washed up drifter speaking tongues to the gods.

Serene damsels waiting for change, staring at the future in three minute clips.

danger knows his limits, wanderer of the milky way.

Full retreat ordered to the sniper of your dreams,

unlocking levels of the high rise pre-madonna. 

It’s the whole a lifetime, as the starling flies,

so why would you worry when your fate unravels like dye into a pool.

 

Speak not of nihilism, Nietzsche is dead, and we have killed him.

Break open the heavens and let Prometheus light our way.

Smiths of desert suffering, thirst for unfaithful knowledge.

The starling though, creeps southward, towards what we know not,

accepting faith as keys to the kingdom of freedom.

A promise

Life goes on I know , mother

there’s nothing to be done. 

But thought of life without you, mother, leaves my spirit numb.

The past weeks have been hell for you, mother,

in pain and so much more.

But the selfish part of me complains, mother,

of my eyes, they are still sore. 

Elated does not explain, mother, 

the feelings I feel now.

On knowing you recover, mother,

I want to make a vow.

I’ll never take you for granted, mother,

I’ll never make that mistake.

For twenty-two years I have, mother,

from now I’ll give not take.

This poem can’t express, mother,

all that I have felt and feel.

But these feelings and this love, mother,

are nothing less than real.

Mother

The shell around me made of you, maternal protection as I grew.

I know it has to fall away, but I’ll never be ready for that day.

Your wilting body betrays the will, the strength and courage you instil.

This shield splinters day by day, your health I see it fade and stray.

Tears now they fill my eyes, but fate ignores my salty cries.

 This fear comes from selfishness, but that does mean my love is less.

 

Death is that which all must face, a lesson that we all must taste,

I only wish it were not so soon, for you’ll never see me bloom. 

Mother, your faith and love stands tall, through it you transcend us all.

We ten children and your spouse, will love you until life is doused. 

 

The Introvert, The Sister, The Friend.

I respect you in your solitude, at which others might frown.

You walk the path of lonely books with your anxious crown.

But this crown shines golden, as does your precious mind.

So too your silence bears witness to the daily grind.

This poem tells of being a friend, so honest and so true.

All I know is that I could never ask for a better sister than you.

For where would I find a soul, in its placid, shining shell?

Ready to take my hand, to whom anything I could tell.

The answer is I couldn’t, not one who doesn’t pretend.

So I write this ode to you; the introvert, my sister, my friend.

Drowning in Love, a Haiku.

 

The sea of love rises,

Creeping into your throat now.

Soon you’ll be asleep.

My sister’s birthday

The Sibling, 

The one who hears your thoughts and dreams,

The one who gives you love with a look, who sees the seams 

of your being when they unravel, and sews them right back up.

 

The Sibling,

The one who gifts without expectation.

The one who is there no matter the time and day,

the time you fall, they do not sway.

 

The Sibling,

The one I look to in times of need.

The one I hope would do the same,

the one who makes me smile and laugh,

with her beautiful mind there lies no blame. 

 

To you my sibling, with all my love.