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Archive for October, 2013

Enough for Now

A neglected mug of cold coffee
sits beside the notebook
I’ve been scribbling in for hours,

a futile attempt to find a way
to describe how much you mean to me
through a poem from the heart,

for I could easily spend the rest of my life
composing lines dedicated to you,
but it would never be sufficient because

your beauty is beyond mere language
and can only be partially understood by man.
Though maybe that’s enough for now.

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Touch

The only thing I possess is time,
and it’s slowly starting to run about.
The more I worry, the more I cry,
and tears do little to wash off doubt.

I’m chasing comfort around the room,
but it’s made me nervous and unstable.
Though I won’t be giving up too soon,
failure has me thinking I’m less than able.

It’d be easy to point the finger at Satan,
or say that I’m simply saved by God’s incredible grace,
but if I can’t touch what I put my faith in,
isn’t it wrong to spread the blame for my own mistakes?

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Stream

My desert of a mouth
won’t let the stream of words
I’m longing to tell you
flow from my hesitant lips
into your thirsty ears.

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Plunge

Standing indecisively
upon the edge of this cliff,
with shoulders slumped
and nervous feet
rocking back and forth,
I can’t come to a conclusion about
which fate would be worse,

surrendering to the unhappiness
behind me
that’s been waiting to steal
my last ounce of sanity,

or giving in to the voices that tell me
I’ll never be good enough
and taking one cowardly,
courageous plunge
into the welcoming arms
of the unholy waters below.

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Vault

There’s an allegorical key inside my wrinkled mind
that unlocks all the bittersweet memories I possess of you.
I haven’t sifted through that vault for a long time,
but with every moment that passes I’m more tempted to.

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Softly

Send me a love letter written softly
in the language only you and I know how
to read because of years spent becoming
accustomed to each other’s character, never
running out of ideas to set our spark crackling anew,
always whispering lyrics to songs of pure joy.

Atop the mountain we steadily climbed, I
live and breathe like any other human being,
although not every person can claim to
have stumbled upon an angel as beautiful
as you, and furthermore, to have obtained the
niceties that only come with the knowledge of your existence.

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Twenty-Three

A number of birthday candles,
twenty-three to be precise,
and the flames they exude
casting a polished glow
upon your even brighter
pair of angel’s wings.

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Sun in October

Iced pumpkin lattes sit on the patio table,
a jovial couple reveling in the October sun,
their conversation light and flowing freely
as autumn welcomes unexpected warmth
with arms that embrace the vast, blue sky.

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Womb

The womb can become
a grave,
whether by God or man.

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A Beggar Among Kings

After stretching the morning’s potential quite far,
nothing I’ve composed has left me feeling satisfied.
It’s as though existence has become a fancy car,
and I’m only along for the round-the-clock joy ride.

I wish I could write about more than a couple of things.
I sound like a broken record when I jot down my thoughts.
My poetry is like a wretched beggar among many kings,
but I’d rather be who I am than pretend to be who I’m not.

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