Monday, January 22, 2007

Tears

Tears, too long welling up
Tears, unreleased, restrained
by a collar of hope you were
too kind to cut. Tears of fears,
tears of doubt, tears of anxiety,
tears of worry. Bitter tears of
regret, biting tears of despair,
caustic tears pressed from
now-crushed dreams, all
now freely flowing, hope,
sliced away by you, too kind
to leave it wasting there. But
a cut meant to free bit a little too
deep, and while diamond tears
gush from agonized eyes, dark
crimson drops pour from my
soul. Released, the tears must
run their course, cleansing the
wounds torn by your liberating
bluntness, disinfecting them of the
wasted love and hope left to
fester in the lacerations you
had to make so I could let
you go. The tears flow until
I am left hollow, ready to heal,
to carry on with new scars,
and new hopes…

Saturday, January 20, 2007

Snow

The sentinel clouds lumber in,
ominous, grey titans, they roll
untill they encompass us completely.
From all sides, the begin their
gentle barrage, an assualt of soft,
feathery flakes. They descend
with a kiss, not of affection
but of frigid death. The miniscule
wraiths fall from their mother clouds,
strangling out all sound leaving us
stranded, alone in an etherial world,
Nature instilling an unnatural silence.
A soundless scream of nothingness
thunders as crystalline invaders
freefall down, attack, and swallow
the ground, burying the world
beneath a soft, frozen, white
blanket of death. They sedate life,
sending creatures and perennial
plants into a coma of survival for
the duration of the Lord Winter's
reign.

The door

Frozen, I contemplate,
my candle casting out
flickering illumination.
Varnish glistens, wood
grained patterns spiderweb
across its surface, the
rectangular gaurdian of
mystery, unknown. A
brass orb juts from its
middle, a gleaming eye,
staring, mocking, asking,
Do I have the courage to
grasp the ball, to twist, to
push forward and face what
lies beyond the portal? Can
I swing it on its hinges and
expose myself to a yawning
chasm of uncertainty? Where
does it lead? To a warmly lit
chamber, inviting me,
welcoming me, a safe shelter
of peace? To a dungeon of
horrors, cramming my mind
with nightmare, freezing me
with biting chains of doubt
and fear? Perhaps an
unknown world lies behind
this gate, waiting for me
to push forward and discover it.
Wait, I think I might know...
If I open this door, I will find
you, another soul like me,
sitting alone, candlelight wavering,
wondering what waits on the
other side of your door,
gathering the nerve to
investigate, to thrust open
your barrier, and confront
what lies beyond. We sit,
alone,each on their side,
waiting, struggling,
the candle burns down...

Friday, January 05, 2007

Why do I suck so bad at life?

I stand against the wall,
not a flower,
an invisible stain on the paint.

Invisible I watch you,
the true flower,
opening you blooms
and showering everyone around you
with your radiance.

I, a mere shadow,
stay back, contentedly
basking in the beautiful
light you give off.
Not a coward.

But a pacifistic admirer
a seed sitting on the rocks
still putting out tender shoots
preparing to break past the
crust of earth, my roof
to my safe zone.

As your beauty and confidence
nourish me, letting me prepare
to expose myself, to take the
plunge into maybe, to go up
and ask my greatest wish,
it ends.

Too late. Too late.
The dances are done,
leaving me in the muck
of my hesitation,
denied my innocent desire:
one dance. One dance
alone with you. Too late.

Too late, my tender roots
shrivel, the seed dries up
and I am once again
waiting. Waiting for the right time
to cast up my own stalk,
and to reveal my own face.

Face you, take the risk.
Let you choose whether
to share your glory with
me for one song, or
to burn me down with your
blazing smile, and scalding
refusal.

Too late, and all I
can do now,
is wait.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Kite

Each day I try to fly it
cast it up to catch the wind.
Each day it rises, a splash of color
against a monochrome canvas,
a plain sky.

As I fly my kite, you come.
You cut the string and send my
hope into a deranged frenzy,
bent on a Kamikaze mission
to the earth. It crashes and dies,
demoted to shards and splintered fragments
of a painting that was, and I,
I drag my way home through a haze
of tears, and sink into a coma of
apathy.

And when the new dawn
gently lifts me from my slumber
I find it waiting there, reborn,
string mended, and shards now
magically reassembled, whole.
Daring me to fly a kite
once more