poetry – Page 4

Nature’s Shower

Drip. Drop.
I felt the rain
Fall down on me
Onto the earth
From my body
Feeling wild as can be
Dancing through mud
The wind slid over me

A perfectly timed force
Nature’s shower
I ran and I ran
Feeling a sense of power
A heavenly escape
No longer captured
By walls of the day
Arms open, I followed

The dampness soaked
My clothing that evening
Through fabric, to skin
A wakening feeling
The leaving to the calling of trees
The sky called out,
Move along and you’ll see

Run, run, run
Going about like a child
Spinning around
An orbit of a happy flower
With no one around
To take the moment away
The time was just mine
I ran away and away

Behind the veil
Of leaves
The sunlight is peeking
Through
Away from the hustle
And bustle,
The day that awaits:
A swaying of branches
Rattling and shaking
The leaves
Not ready to leave,
I take another look
At bits of white clouds
And the blue sky
Up, behind—
On the other side—
Of a veil I need

Sign Seeker

Sign Seeker

By day and by night,
Flashlight in his hand,
The man who seeks signs
Looks for a reason for life

In faces, places, things, words,
Both said and unsaid—
A hope to be risen—
In both his heart and his head

Off, in the distance,
On some track, a whistle blows
Possibly showing, knowing
Where and if he should go…

Relying on patience
To shine a map through
Shadows,
Walls concrete,
The track to follow

He wonders some days
If the searching is in vain
Head dropping to his feet
Oh, so very mundane
Exhaustion.
The blank stare of a passerby

Mind marching and watching,
Still, he goes along
The sign seeker’s heart
Can be found beating
On this very night
Continuing a search,
Gripping his flashlight

Bad Guy

Bad Guy

Judgment Day
The time could come
for all the dangerous decisions
to finally surface;
The ball in a chosen man’s court

Is it so hard to see
that behind the eyes of the bad guy
is maybe somebody who sees,
in either you or in me,
a set of eyes belonging
to his or her bad guy

Hand-wringing
The birds are not singing
outside the window,
on the branches of trees shaped leafless
Heart-racing
Will the chosen man be sending
all of the blame today

Is it so hard to see
that behind the eyes of the bad guy
is maybe somebody who sees,
in either you or in me,
a set of eyes belonging
to his or her bad guy

Accuser versus the accused
Liquid soaking through a pressed shirt
of a man, could be around 35
Tension ripping through his organs
like a knife
Blood on the floor

Fly away, foul thoughts
Fly away, it can’t be so bad
Fly away, to happy places
Fly away, all the dreams can still happen

Is it so hard to see
that behind the eyes of the bad guy
is maybe somebody who sees,
in either you or in me,
a set of eyes belonging
to his or her bad guy

A Letter to Paris

A Letter to Paris

Boredom sets in
9-5 Job
I am no machine
So, Doc can you please
Scoop out what is truly Me;
Pour metal into this body

My spirit, you must see
Requires deep renovations
Send what you remove
To Paris, France—
As per these exciting and
Most recent reservations

Could have been

Just a minute of your time, please
Let’s have a seat
Need to tell you something
About what could have been

Wrestling in my mind
Over and over
Time and time again—
I have wondered
What I could have done different;
And if, I could go back,
I would be the person
Who did make happen
What I think should have been

Please let me finish,
No interruptions, if you don’t mind
I promise not to take
Much more of your time

The moment we are having
Is here and we will never
Be able to go back again

Now, look into my eyes
(I have no more words)
To make you see,
What I do believe,
Could have been…

A Gust of Wind

A Gust of Wind

A gust of wind
Brings me right back in
Inward, once again

With a deep breath
In the nose
Out the mouth,
I can handle the outside
With fortitude

Falling leaves—
They remind me:
The past cannot be
Replayed;
The future is not here

The only way
I can truly be
Is to keep breathing,
Let rise and fall keep happening
Inside of me

A Latte Moment

Cigarette and Coffee

Just now,
I would like a cigarette and my coffee
You know, sometimes, it’s not two for tea
Alone, the sun is shining down on me
Whilst I soak up the caffeine

Lovely, in the interim,
Please do not speak to me
I just like a cigarette and my coffee

What I’m Missing

What I’m Missing

Have you seen what I’m missing;
Into the abyss, they have gone
Lighters, chargers, headphones—
The list could go on!
I hope they will find me
Or is that just wrong?
Possibly, they found a new home
With a person who doesn’t abandon
Have you found what I’m missing?
Please hear my sad song

*Dedicated to all the lost items.

Tag: poetry