Archive for January, 2014

The Next Morning

Sleep tight, inspiration whispers,
gently tucking me into bed
and kissing me on the forehead,

my subconscious already mulling over
which ideas it will allow
entrance to the courtyard of dreaming,

like the strictest kind of guard
standing solemnly
without any noise whatsoever

as I drift from hectic wakefulness
to the ease known as slumber,
unaware of how active it really is

until I open my eyes the next morning
and notice all the poems
making a comfy home of my bedroom,

some dancing in a circle on my laptop,
others looking out the window,
and some staring me right in the face.

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I scrawled your name in permanent ink
on the surface of my battered heart,
never considering using a pencil instead
because true love can’t be erased.

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Ode to Seattle

Raindrops remind me of home,
that place where my weathered spirit
will reside even after I stumble upon my demise,
drifting along inside the salty breeze
of Pike Place Market, forever contented and calm.

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Your offering tied with pretty lace
is such an insulting slap in the face.

Do you think so little of me and my character
that you assumed I’d be captured by some generic lure?

My river of pondering runs wider than you’ll ever know.
The stoical cloak I put on is just a loathsome, flimsy show.

I’m guessing all can see the craven man underneath,
though by now I don’t care what crawls out of their teeth.

This world, I’ve come to realize, is a place I don’t belong.
No matter my tune, it will always be singing a different song.

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My heart isn’t broken, torn, or bruised.
It simply disappeared the moment you left.
There’s no one to blame, nor to accuse.
Rejection is the thing I’ve learned to accept.

It hurts to know we’ll never be.
It hurts even more to know I destroyed what we had.
You’re now just a fading memory,
and the thought of you gone makes me so very sad.

So I’ll turn on a song that reminds me of you,
and spend the night crying an entire ocean.
I don’t understand; it’s not what I usually do.
Dwelling on you fills me with such emotion.

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Same Excuse

Just look at her,
she’s beautiful and kind.
Who could be better?
And yet she slips my mind.

Maybe I’m stupid
to turn my nose up in the air,
but nobody said
that attraction is always fair.

My heart is broken.
I can’t claim to know my feelings.
Healing hasn’t woken
from the sleep of rueful dealings.

I’m using the same excuse
that I swore I never would.
Though now that I’m accused
the words sound so very good.

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Stripped of their leaves,
these skeleton trees
dance with the breeze,
moving as they please.

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