Close: A Poem

Two sets of open lips

Touching gently in the dawn

Two sets of lungs

Exchanging life in their breaths

Two pairs of hands

Clutching desperately to the moment

Two hearts

Beating out the rhythm of the clock

That will tear them apart

Though they are woven together

Like the threads of the blanket over them

But they are able weavers

And, in time, they will mend.

Flight: A Poem

To fly is a strange and mysterious thing.

Man presumes to have found its secrets

To have pulled back the veil

Revealing the simple man behind the wizard

But there is more to a miracle

Than what the eyes can tell.

To fall is no such mystery.

It is a common and effortless act

The true simplification, however,

Is that faith is not required for one to fall.

Living in Memory: A Poem

Our days together are like memories

We grasp at them, hoping to find them real

But knowing we live as in a dream

With our parting imminent.

And yet, to part will then be natural

For we wills till have our memories

We wills till have our dreams

And in them, we can live as we do now.

And we will only be apart

When we wake.

[This and the two following posts are poems written during my lunch breaks while working in Yellowstone this summer.]

Ancient: A Poem inspired by my visit to Turkey and Greece... a year ago.

Atop the mountain

Pillars of marble from millenia past

Gleaming white

Polished by the ages

Glaring stone

Bright as flashing steel

Around the barrow's crown

Shards of clay upon the ancient brow

Hallowed forms

Once a pleasure to the eye

Now brought low

And lying silent in the dust

The valleys deep and broad

Filled with crimson memories

Growing up thick

To form the family quilt of the lost generations

Dyed a uniform sanguine hue

To take our eyes from the glory now lost

What fatal mercy.

Sons and Lovers: A Poem inspired by D.H. Lawrence's novel of the same name

You said you'd try to save me

But you should save your breath

Cause your inconsistency is showing

And you might catch a cold to death.

Now that the bitter fruit is broken

The juice is filling up your lungs

So with every word you've spoken

A tune of scornful pride is sung.

A child is not a lover

And your heart seems immature

But one day you'll give your heart forever

Though you were distant the day before.

Give me liberty to hold your heart

Or let love die and let us part.

Lonely Leviathan: A Poem

A deathlike face now living

Ambition's folly realized

With cold hands filled with murder

The fallen angel demonized

With sorrow his sole companion

And sin his only aim

This son without a father

Made of Man and Man's own bane

Will none pity the man of Legion sorrows?

Will none mourn with the lonely Leviathan?

Not tears of pity but of hate

Will wet the sinful grieving hands

Man's monstrous fate self-ascribed

And his executioner: Man.