Month: December 2018

Future Reflections

Hot and cold,
feeling old,
awaiting the sunrise
to blind my eye
of visions deepest blue.
~
In a clockwise world
my thoughts drawn back,
tension’s wound
soon to crack,
options are but few.
~
Up and down
and round and round,
in the din
with none to win,
time dreamt through.
~
Words to mind
relief to find,
distraction consumes
on leaf life blooms,
unknown is the hue.
~
Buttons pushed
wishing rest,
weight is shared
solace guessed,
trying is the clue.
~
A cloud reflects
eyes shut detects
a glint of gold,
change I’m sold,
tomorrow’s now in view.
~
Touched a screen
hope was seen,
hearts of friends,
my future mends
with much thanks to you.

~*~
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I woke this morning without a thought.
Inspiration and ideas today are naught.
I’m not depressed, just a little blue,
trying not to be stressed but so much to do.
~
These past few years filled with good and bad.
Happy at times but I feel more sad.
Love was had and gone, felt again but lost.
Now to love again I fear the cost.
~
Heart’s fragile, just a throbbing lump.
Mind’s cluttered like a dump.
My soul burns for a sunny day.
My body aches for a better way.
~
Feeling flush or torn to shards,
time it seems, holds all the cards.
What’s the deal, I ask with reservation.
Rise and shine or be dulled with hesitation.

~*~
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Christmas Free

The holidays upon us,
I’ve yet to get a tree.
Am I a Grinch or a Scrooge?
Cos I think they should be free.
~
I look out my windows,
there’s plenty there to see.
I could hang some balls.
That’s good enough for me.
~
But the kid’s home soon,
she’ll want a tree.
She’ll get a sad little one;
it’ll be cheap but not quite free.
~
We’ll place it by the window,
decorated for all to see.
Christmas we’ll exchange gifts,
the best one’s free for me.

~*~
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Just Poet

To be a poet one must only write.
And be in awe of day and night.
Inspiration abounds without refrain.
Absorb all, both pleasure and pain.
~
I didn’t ask to be me or you, you.
But to express is what we do.
Not all writes can be a song.
But no writes are ever wrong.
~
Dawn welcomes most every day.
Shadows of the dark go either way.
Sleep’s never quite enough.
Dreams fill time with better stuff.
~
And love it seems is part of the deal.
Hearts will break, to bleed we heal.
The soul burns to see the light.
To be a poet one must only write.

~*~
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Drip, Drip Dribble

Sorry to all for the dribble of late.
It’s been eight weeks since a fateful date.
T’was a muse unamused blew me away.
I left breathless for many a day.
~
Now it’s back to second guessing,
till that’s behind I’ve no caressing.
Bemused babblings, not ready to quip,
till then I fear just dribble from a drip.

~*~
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Moments Monumental

With each day we do learn,
life is more than we yearn.
Responsibilities never end,
more to share and to lend.
~
We give and take for others sake,
returns in kind for us to make.
Care is given when received.
Truth abounds when not deceived.
~
Time propels, weights constrain,
with each second the past we gain.
Hearts and minds of equal measure,
balance stacked for us to treasure.
~
Skies brighten and again to dim.
Stars don’t shine on a whim.
Thinking love, feeling wise,
tomorrow’s I hear are before our eyes.

~*~
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Can’t Write *ove No More

A stack of sonnets,
but nowhere to send,
their beginning was joyous.
I wept at the end.
~
This stack of sonnets,
sit lonely by my side.
Paper thin memories,
time I’d rather hide.
~
My stack of sonnets,
never to be read.
A future seen,
then instantly shred.
~
A stack of sonnets,
were drawn from my heart.
Now I feel empty.
And wish I didn’t start.

~*~
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Lions and Tigers and Bearings

Moments bear reflection.
Reflections bear distortion.
The past is never as we gaze.
Reality edited with ripples and haze.
~
Years float by and framed on a wall.
Steps we make to aide recall.
With each step space’s unfilled.
Moving in haste time is killed.
~
In our crypts seconds we save.
The years we take to our grave.
Tomorrows come as yesterday’s go.
Only to remember what we know.

~*~
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News from the Asylum

No news here!
It’s a sunny day,
bright and clear.
Birds sing everywhere.
~
Snuck a smoke on the roof,
I could see the town.
The police came,
they got me down.
~
Now the sunset,
no news yet.
I missed my supper,
cos I’ve no regret.
~
I broke the candy machine,
that made me sad.
But they can’t take breakfast,
for that I’m glad.
~
Bed time’s soon,
no news yet.
I like toast with butter,
But I sometimes forget.

~*~
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New Old Fashion

After years and years of ups and downs,
when value of self’s been pennies on the pound,
love’s been vaulted and disappeared,
old friends lost and new to be found.
~
The body waivers and minds forget.
Wisdom comes and goes in equal ration.
Time’s rushed but waiting improves.
And all’s well when life has passion.

~*~
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Oddly Bioanalytical

A poet doomed I’ve started believe’n.
The odds it seems much better than even.
T’was born on an even day, month and year.
And I’m a Libra to boot, if you care.
~
An INFP, I think that means I feel stuff.
And if that alone wasn’t enough,
I’m fair of skin, odd of weight and six feet even.
A poet doomed and my name’s even Steven.

~*~
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Word Free

Hi, I’m the me you can’t see.
I’m the me that’s stuck in me.
The other me is the me you see.
That’s not the me that’s this me.
~
I know it’s hard to see,
this me that’s the real me.
Is the real me the me you see,
or the stuck me waiting to be free.
~
That’s the me you don’t see.
The other me too doesn’t see me.
That me thinks they’re all to see.
That me doesn’t know me.
~
Other than me the other me is free.
The other me speaks the words of we.
The words of me are only to see,
words of me that set me free.

~*~
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Wows

With these strings, I thee bled,
fingers raw and eyes red.
Sounds of the day fill my head.
Emotion speaks with words unsaid.
~
With six strings I am fed.
Good vibration is my med.
Tension’s tuned and compression shed.
Harmony pledged. To honor bred.
~
With my strings I have wed.
Our ties bound by common thread.
Sweet melodies or what’s instead?
I’ll have and hold till I’m dead.

~*~
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What a Rush

I want to write more love poems
and I want to do it soon.
I don’t want to write of heartache.
I want to snuggle beneath the moon.
~
I want to write more love poems
and express the love in my heart.
I want them to inspire
and be reminders when apart.
~
I want to write more love poems
and share one each and every day.
I want to write more love poems,
but to rush is not the way.

~*~
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Checking Out

Counting the days till days don’t count,
there’ll be no worries or any doubt.
There’s never to be a frown or a pout.
I could stay in or I can go out.
~
Counting the days for my time to sprout,
I’ll get up late with nothing to think about.
I can be really quite or scream and shout.
I’ll always be mellow and never freak out.
~
Counting the days to assume some clout,
each moment’s new with adventures to scout.
Destinations will be celebrations to tout.
The sun will shine with or without
~
Counting the days thought getting stout.
All will be friends, but for the lout.
I’ll need no maps and never to rout.
I’m never locked in or lucked out.
~
Counting days before the days run out,
when never a tear or ever a drought.
Choices all mine, all else to flout.
And blessings counted before checking out.

~*~
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