First

with

.

t

h

e

.

thirst,

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

last

with

.

t

h

e

.

crash . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

e

.

.

.

were

lost

.

i

n

.

the

lack,

.

.

w

i

t

h

.

.

no

turning

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

.

w

e

r

e

.

lost

.

i

n

.

the

lack,

.

.

w

i

t

h

.

.

no

turning

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

So

high

.

o

n

.

the

blast . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

So

afraid

.

i

t

.

would

.

n

o

t

.

last . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

that

day,

.

after

night,

.

after

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

we

raced . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

raced . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

raced . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

raced . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

along

.

t

h

o

s

e

.

tracks . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

hot,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

hard,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

fast,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

far . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

clickety

clack,

–

–

clickety

clack,

–

–

all

along

.

t

h

o

s

e

.

tracks . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

clickety

clack,

–

–

clickety

clack,

–

–

further,

.

deeper

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

black . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

now . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

now . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

–

–

–

all

.

t

h

e

.

sins,

–

–

vices,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

excesses

.

we’ve

had,

.

.

I

.

.

w

a

s

.

thinking

.

w

e

.

might

.

t

u

r

n

.

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

.

w

a

s

.

hoping

.

w

e

.

might

.

t

u

r

n

.

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

instead

.

o

f

.

waking

again,

.

.

n

o

t

.

.

knowing

where

.

we’re

at,

–

–

lost,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

alone,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

sinking

.

i

n

.

the

lack . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ sinking

.

i

n

.

the

lack . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

f

a

l

l

i

n

g

.

.

.

through

.

t

h

e

.

cracks . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

sinking

.

i

n

.

the

lack . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

f

a

l

l

i

n

g

.

.

.

through

.

t

h

e

.

cracks . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ sinking

.

i

n

.

the

lack . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

not

turning

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ not

turning

back

.

t

o

.

all

.

a

n

d

.

that

.

w

h

i

c

h

.

smiled

.

i

n

.

the

past . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ not

turning

back

.

t

o

.

all

.

a

n

d

.

that,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

the

warmth

.

o

n

c

e

.

had . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Not

turning

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Not

turning

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

s

–

–

–

those

youthful

.

d

a

y

s

.

begin

.

t

o

.

age

.

a

n

d

.

shade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

age

.

a

n

d

.

shade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

age

.

a

n

d

.

shade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

age

.

a

n

d

.

shade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

gray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

nothing

feels

.

s

o

.

bad . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

so

empty . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

so

sad . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

s

–

–

–

that,

–

–

when

.

a

l

l

.

which

blossomed

.

dies

.

i

n

.

the

past . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ looking

back

.

t

o

.

all

.

o

n

c

e

.

had . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

nothing

feels

.

s

o

.

bad

.

t

h

a

n

.

looking

back

.

t

o

.

all

.

o

n

c

e

.

had . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ looking

back

.

t

o

.

all

.

o

n

c

e

.

had

.

i

n

.

that

dimming,

.

dying

past,

–

–

when

.

w

e

.

came

.

o

n

.

too

hot . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

too

hard . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

too

far . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

too

fast . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ riding

high

.

o

n

.

that

blast . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ riding

high

.

o

n

.

that

blast . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

First

with

.

t

h

e

.

thirst,

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

last

with

.

t

h

e

.

crash . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

First

with

.

t

h

e

.

thirst,

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

last

with

.

t

h

e

.

crash . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

First

with

.

t

h

e

.

thirst,

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

last

with

.

t

h

e

.

crash . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

last

.

w

i

t

h

.

the

crash,

–

–

aged

faces

aghast . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ aged

faces

aghast

.

against

.

t

h

e

.

glass . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

alas . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

alas . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

every

passing

warm,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

glossy

flash

.

f

a

l

l

s

.

flat . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

turns

bland

.

a

n

d

.

black . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

turns

bland

.

a

n

d

.

black . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

blast

.

standing

.

a

t

.

half-mast . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

now . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

now . . .

–

–

–

.

.

. 

a

t

–

–

–

last . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

clickety

clack,

–

–

clickety

clack,

–

–

there’s

.

n

o

.

turning

back.

Reflection: This was a forgotten but moving personal struggle-themed poem I wrote back in September of 2019 as a warning to be cautious when engaging in vices and excesses which might end up consuming a life. So many people start out experimenting, being adventurous, and having “fun,” only to find themselves immersed and trapped in a darkness they can never escape. I played the wonderful acoustic version of the song “Cowgirl in the Sand” by Neil Young (from the “Four Way Street” album) in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

This poem was initially born from a favorite lyric: “after all the sin we’ve had, I was hoping that we’d turn bad” from the Neil Young song: “Cowgirl in the Sand” – which I changed to “with all the sins, vices, and excesses we’ve had, I was thinking we might turn back.” The rest of the poem pretty much wrote itself from that starting point.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

.

w

e

.

could

love

–

–

without

lying . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

hold

–

–

without

hiding . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ there

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

.

w

e

.

could

talk

–

–

without

trying . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

lay

side

.

b

y

.

side

–

–

without

crying . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ there

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

now

eyes

.

g

a

z

e

.

into

eyes,

–

–

which

disguise

.

b

u

t

.

no

longer

ignite . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

.

n

o

.

longer

ignite,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

no

longer

prize,

.

.

o

r

.

.

burn

.

w

i

t

h

.

pride . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

.

n

o

.

longer

prize,

.

.

o

r

.

.

burn

.

w

i

t

h

.

pride . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

goodbyes

.

n

o

.

longer

hurt,

.

.

o

r

.

.

even

blur . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

.

n

o

.

longer

hurt,

.

.

o

r

.

.

even

blur . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

those

future

.

d

a

y

s

.

which

.

o

n

c

e

.

shined

.

s

u

c

h

.

promise,

–

–

excitement,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

delight . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

danced

.

s

o

.

blissfully

.

a

n

d

.

wondrously

.

w

i

d

e

.

across

.

t

h

e

.

warming,

–

– 

hope-filled

skies . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

n

o

–

–

–

longer

prize,

.

.

o

r

.

.

burn

.

w

i

t

h

.

pride . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ those

future

.

d

a

y

s

.

which

.

o

n

c

e

.

shined

.

s

o

.

boundlessly

bright,

–

–

begin

.

t

o

.

dim

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

dismal

–

–

days

.

o

f

.

behind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

dim . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

dim . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

dim . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

t

o

–

–

–

the

dismal

–

–

days

.

o

f

.

behind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

mile,

–

–

after

mile,

–

–

after

mile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

night,

–

–

after

night,
–

–

after

night . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

until

even

.

t

h

e

.

good

times

.

n

o

.

longer

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ until

even

.

t

h

e

.

good

times

.

n

o

.

longer

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

now, 

they

.

n

o

.

longer

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

.

n

o

.

longer

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

.

n

o

.

longer

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

.

n

o

.

longer

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

falling

further . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

further . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

further

behind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ further

behind

.

t

h

o

s

e

.

times,

–

–

when

.

w

e

.

could

–

–

love

without

lying . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

hold

without

hiding . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

talk

without

trying . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ those

times

–

–

which

shined

.

s

o

.

wondrously

wide,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

boundlessly

bright . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

across

eternal

skies

.

o

f

.

bliss,

–

–

hope,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

delight . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

only

.

t

o

.

dim . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

only

.

t

o

.

dim . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

only

.

t

o

.

dim . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ only

.

t

o

.

dim,

–

–

decline,

–

–

dither,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

die.

Reflection: This was a forgotten romantic-themed poem I wrote back in September of 2019 where the contemplator looks back on a dying present-day romance that was once full of beauty, wonder, magic, and delight – and ponders how things ended up to the point where there is not only no love between them, but they don’t even like, want, or respect each other anymore. Most likely it was the collection of little things all along the way. I played the wonderful song “Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye” by Luke Bryan in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

The

haunting

remains

.

i

n

.

this

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

somewhere

.

i

n

.

that

–

–

swirling

haze

.

o

f

.
mere

moments

–

–

swept

away,

.

t

w

o

.

shadows

swayed,

–

–

embraced,

.

a

n

d

.

merged

into

.

t

h

e

.

gray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

c

a

n

.

almost

recall

.

a

.

trace

.

o

f

.

that

elegance

.

a

n

d

.

grace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

c

a

n

.

almost

perceive

.

t

h

e

.

change,

.

a

n

d

.

the

paling

.

o

f

.

the

page . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

c

a

n

.

almost

–

–

still

experience

.

t

h

a

t

.

hurricane

.

o

f

.

wind,

–

–

rain,

.

a

n

d

.

crashing

waves . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

thundering

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

wave,

–

–

after

wave,

–

–

after

wave,

–

–

after

wave . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

tossing,

.

a

n

d

.

tumbling,

.

a

n

d

.

turning

us

–

–

up

.

a

n

d

.

down . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

round

.

a

n

d

.

round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

inside

out

.

a

n

d

.

upside

down . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Every

night

.

f

o

r

.

us

.

i

t

.

came . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Every

night

.

f

o

r

.

us

.

i

t

.

raged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

awake

today,

.

a

n

d

.

call

your

name . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

call,

.

a

n

d

.

I

call,

.

a

n

d

.

I

call,

.

a

n

d

.

I

call . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

only

silence

.

a

n

d

.

space

are

.

a

l

l

.

that

reign . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ all

.

t

h

a

t

.

reign

.

i

n

.

this

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

haunting

remains . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

haunting

remains . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

haunting

remains . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

it

feels

.

l

i

k

e

.

I’m

lost

.

i

n

.

a

maze

–

–

full

.

o

f

.

shade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

day,

–

–

after

day,

–

–

after

day,

–

–

after

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

entertain

.

a

.

vague

parade

.

o

f

.

yesterdays

which

–

–

always

stay

.

t

h

e

.

same . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

I

don’t

–

–

want

it

.

t

o

.

end . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ I

don’t

–

–

want

it

.

t

o

.

end

.

t

h

i

s

.

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

I

close

.

m

y

.

eyes,

.

a

n

d

.

wade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

close

.

m

y

.

eyes,

.

a

n

d

.

wade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

close

.

m

y

.

eyes,

.

a

n

d

.

wade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

t

o

–

–

–

the

replay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

wade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

t

o

–

–

–

the

swirling

haze . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

wade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

t

o

–

–

–

the

thundering

gray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

wade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

t

o

–

–

–

the

hurricane

.

o

f

.

wind,

–

–

rain,

–

a

n

d

–

crashing

waves . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

because

that

.

i

s

.

the

only

way

–

–

I

can

erase

.

o

r

.

ease

the

pain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ that

.

i

s

.

the

only

way

–

–

I

can

make

–

–

the

haunting

.

g

o

.

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

I

close

.

m

y

.

eyes

.

a

n

d

.

wade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

I

close

.

m

y

.

eyes

.

a

n

d

.

wade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

I

close

.

m

y

.

eyes

.

a

n

d

.

wade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ I

wade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

t

o

–

–

–

the

replay.

Reflection:

This poem largely reflects looking back on a one-of-a-kind, whirlwind romance that happened in the past – and is something most of us have probably experienced in our lives. However, the haunting memory becomes painful when we compare it to where we are and what we have in our life today, but we just want to relive that memory one more time . . . and then again . . . and then again . . . and then again . . . even though we know it’s not good or healthy for us. And we hold on to a pale hope that we might find something like that again and be smart enough to hold on to it and not let it go the next time.

This poem was greatly inspired by the Dierks Bentley song, “Black.” I played this song repeatedly in the background at low volume to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to this song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

You

might

.

h

a

v

e

.

heard

.

t

h

a

t

.

I

.

burn

.

t

h

e

.

curve . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

burn

.

t

h

e

.

curve,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

blur . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

burn

.

t

h

e

.

curve,

–

–

when

.

t

h

e

.

turn

.

i

s

.

unsure . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

burn

.

t

h

e

.

curve,

–

–

when

.

h

u

r

t

.

becomes

.

t

h

e

.

cure . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ when

.

h

u

r

t

.

becomes

.

t

h

e

.

cure . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

burn

.

t

h

e

.

curve . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

burn

.

t

h

e

.

curve . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

burn

.

t

h

e

.

curve . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

anything

observed,

–

–

might

truly

.

b

e

.

worse . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

deserve

.

m

o

r

e

.

worth

.

t

h

a

n

.

wants,

–

–

whispers,

.

.

o

r

.

.

words . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

there

.

a

r

e

.

times,

–

–

when

.

a

detour

–

–

better

serves,

.

.

t

h

a

n

.

.

a

yield

.

o

r

.

a

merge . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

before

.

y

o

u

.

surrender . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ surrender

.

t

o

.

the

urge . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

consider

.

w

h

a

t

.

you’ve

heard,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

learn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

.

.

.

I

burn

.

i

t

.

baby,

–

–

burn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

burn

.

t

h

e

.

curve . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

blur.

Reflection: This was a forgotten personal struggle-themed poem I wrote back in August of 2019 where the affected party frequently lives on the edge of life – and slows down for no one. And we’re left to ponder where he or she might end up, and whether any moments of happiness might have been experienced in all of that restless, relentless pursuit. I’ve known several people who lived their lives that way. I played the wonderful song “The Only Thing” by Zola Blood in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it. The poem was born from the lyric: “fast on the curve” (actually the words were “resting on a curve” but I had not realized that) – I changed that tiny phrase to “burning the curve,” and the rest of the poem wrote itself from that.

What

can

you

.

d

o

.

when

life 

becomes

.

t

o

o

.

late

.

f

o

r

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ when

.

y

o

u

.

awake

.

t

o

.

find

.

a

.

strange

face

–

–

that

.

h

a

s

. 

aged

.

i

n

.

a

place,

–

–

with

.

y

o

u

r

.

yesterdays

ablaze . . .

–

–

–

 ~ with

.

y

o

u

r

.

yesterdays

ablaze

.

i

n

.

what

could

.

h

a

v

e

.

been

–

–

better

days

.

h

a

d

.

you

realized

.

t

h

e

.

truth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

truth

.

t

h

a

t

.

all,

.

a

n

d

.

each.

.

a

n

d

.

everything

.

y

o

u

.

once

owned,

.

n

o

w

.

owns

you . . .

–

–

–

 ~ they

.

n

o

w

.

own

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

consume

.

y

o

u

r

.

youth,

–

–

burning,

–

–

burning

blue . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

now . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

now . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

it’s

.

t

o

o

.

late

.

f

o

r

.

change . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

it’s

.

t

o

o

.

late

.

t

o

.

make

things

.

g

o

.

your

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

because

.

i

t

.

would

.

n

o

t

.

matter . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

would

.

n

o

t

.

matter

–

–

anyway . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

– 

all

.

t

h

a

t

.

once

mattered

.

n

o

w

.

lies

.

i

n

.

tatters . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

has

.

b

e

e

n

.

consumed

.

b

y

.

flame,

–

–

leaving

.

o

n

l

y

.

gray

.

a

s

h

.

remains . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Too

late . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Too

late . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Far

.

t

o

o

.

late

.

f

o

r

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

because

.

y

o

u

.

are

old . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

.

y

o

u

.

are

old . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

days

.

a

r

e

.

new.

Reflection: This was a forgotten personal struggle-themed poem I wrote back in August of 2019 where the contemplator looks back on a life that has somehow consumed his or her entire youth without any awareness – for the contemplator now is old, but “the days are new.” I played the wonderful song “The Fatal Gift” by Emily Haines in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

Another

goodbye

–

–

blurs

.

m

y

.

eyesight,

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

still

I

realize,

–

–

it

.

i

s

.

just

.

f

o

r

.

a

.

while . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

.

i

s

.

just

.

f

o

r

.

a

.

while . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

although

.

n

o

t

.

side

.

b

y

.

side . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

n

o

–

–

–

part

.

o

f

.

you

.

c

a

n

.

be

erased

.

b

y

.

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ nothing

.

c

a

n

.

be

erased

.

b

y

.

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

because

there

.

a

r

e

.

many

sides . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

many,

–

–

many

sides

.

o

f

.

goodbye . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

.

a

r

e

.

sides

.

t

h

a

t

.

die . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

sides

.

t

h

a

t

.

try . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

sides

.

t

h

a

t

.

know

–

–

how

.

t

o

.

lie . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

.

a

r

e

.

sides

. 

t

h

a

t

.

hide . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

sides

.

t

h

a

t

.

take

flight . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

sides

.

t

h

a

t

.

know

.

n

o

t

.

why . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

I

.

do

.

n

o

t

.

mind,

–

–

being

blinded

.

b

y

.

every

–

–

gray

line,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

each

shaded,

–

–

chaotic

design

.

o

f

.

goodbye . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

because

.

I

.

a

m

.

one

.

t

o

.

realize

–

–

they

add . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

add

.

t

o

.

all

.

t

h

a

t

. 

was . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

is . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

will

be

.

i

n

.

life . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

memories

.

c

a

n

.

always

.

b

e

.

kind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

there’s

.

n

o

.

cause

.

t

o

.

cry,

–

–

when

.

y

o

u

.

realize,

–

–

there’s

.

s

o

.

many

reasons

.

t

o

.

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ there’s

just

.

s

o

.

many

reasons

.

t

o

.

smile,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

forward

drive,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

glimmer

.

a

n

d

.

glide,

–

–

upon

those

–

–

warming

lights,

–

–

which

burned

.

s

o

.

bright . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

because

.

o

n

c

e

.

upon

a

time,

–

–

together

.

w

e

.

smiled,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

were

part

.

o

f

.

a

life . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

that

starshine

–

–

which

beams

.

s

o

.

bright . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

makes

.

o

n

e

.

feel

.

s

o

.

alive . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

starshine

.

w

h

i

c

h

.

added

.

s

u

c

h

.

shimmer,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

hope,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

love,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

fire,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

color,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

charm . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

a

.

bold

brilliance

.

t

o

.

life . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

partly

came

.

f

r

o

m

.

each,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

all,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

every

.

p

a

s

t

.

goodbye . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ every

.

p

a

s

t

.

goodbye,

–

–

which

might

.

h

a

v

e

.

otherwise,

–

–

forever

made

.

u

s

.

cry . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

until

.

t

h

e

.

day

.

w

e

.

came

.

t

o

.

realize,

.

.

i

t

.

.

is

.

w

e

.

who

decide

–

–

which

parts

.

t

o

.

polish

.

a

n

d

.

prize . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

which

parts

.

t

o

.

bury,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

leave

behind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ which

parts

.

o

f

.

each,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

all,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

every

–

–

goodbye

.

t

o

.

forward

.

i

n

.

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

understand

that

.

i

s

.

why . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

you

. 

a

r

e

.

you,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

I

.

a

m

.

I . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

for

that . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

.

f

o

r

.

that . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

e

–

–

–

can

smile,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

dance,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

shine,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

realize . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

t

–

–

–

all

brought

.

u

s

.

to

who,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

why,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

where

.

w

e

.

are

right

.

n

o

w

.

in

life . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

whether

–

–

goodbye

.

f

o

r

.

now,

.

.

o

r

.

.

goodbye

–

–

forever . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

each

.

a

n

d

.

every

–

–

goodbye

.

c

a

n

.

add

a

warmth

.

t

o

.

our

shine,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

a

sparkle

.

t

o

.

our

eye . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

So

yes,

–

–

another

goodbye

–

–

might

blur

.

m

y

.

eyesight . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

there

.

a

r

e

. 

many

sides . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

many,

–

–

many

sides

.

o

f

.

goodbye.

Reflection: This was a forgotten inspirational/hope-themed poem I wrote back in August of 2019 to help people deal with the “goodbyes” in their lives by understanding that every experience no matter how lengthy, how short, how large, how small, how powerful, or how subtle adds to the living collage that becomes who we are at any given point in time. And we result from all of those contributing parts and pieces. So, get into the practice of cherishing, loving, and appreciating all of that throughout your life. A favorite Dr. Suess quote comes to mind here: “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” So, do this if you can. I played the wonderful gem of a song “Nihilist Abyss” by Emily Haines in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

The

–

–

“once

upon

a

time”

–

–

back

when,

.

.

f

a

l

l

s

.

.

upon

.

m

y

.

heart

again,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

it

.

m

a

y

.

never

end . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

(it may never end ?)

I

can

see

–

–

what’s

wrong

tonight,

–

–

I

can

tell

–

– 

what’s

.

i

n

.

your

mind,

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

now

.

i

s

.

not

.

t

h

e

.

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

(now is not the time ?)

The

truth

–

–

turns

day

.

t

o

.

black,

–

–

–

 ~ the

storming

.

s

k

i

e

s

.

attack,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

there’s

.

n

o

.

turning

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

(there’s no turning back ?)

<instrumental interlude>

Can’t

.

y

o

u

.

see

.

i

t

.

now ?

–

–

–

 ~ it

.

a

l

l

.

becomes

.

s

o

.

clear

somehow,

–

–

when

.

e

v

e

n

.

up

.

f

a

l

l

s

.

down . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

(when up falls down ?)

Memories

.

o

f

.

all

.

t

h

a

t

.

was,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

pale

pictures

.

o

f

.

the

past,

.

.

a

r

e

.

.

all

that

.

w

e

.

have

left . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

(all that we have left ?)

Memories . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Memories . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Memories . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Memories . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Memories . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

<4 times then instrumental wrap>

Reflection: This was the lyrics to an indie pop song I wrote back in July of 2019 which could also be viewed as a romantic-themed poem. All of my poetry tends to be lyrical in nature – so writing poetry to music was pretty easy for me to do. I had written the music to the song back in 1990/1991 – but did not write the lyrics until 2019. In this song/poem the contemplator confronts the decline of a once vibrant, romantic relationship – and realizes there is no going back.

A new day

dawns today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

A new day

dawns today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Paint it up

.

i

n

.

smiling rays,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

make it into

a brighter place,

–

–

before you 

leave the day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

before you

leave the day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It starts

with you

.

a

n

d

.

what you

choose,

–

–

you never

know

–

–

how much

the good

will do,

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

make

.

t

h

e

.

change . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

make

.

t

h

e

.

change . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

A new day

dawns today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

A new day

dawns today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Love is

.

a

t

.

your

command,

–

–

the magic

.

i

s

.

in your 

heart

.

a

n

d

.

hands,

.

.

s

o

.

.

love

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

love

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

A masterpiece

.

f

o

r

.

better ways,

–

–

don’t let

the days

simply

.

g

o

.

astray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

create

a

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

create

a

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

<instrumental interlude>

A new day

dawns today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

A new day

dawns today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Paint it up

.

i

n

.

smiling rays,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

make it into

a brighter place,

–

–

before you 

leave the day . . .

–

–

–

 ~ yes,

before you

leave the day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It starts

with you

.

a

n

d

.

what you

choose,

–

–

you never

know

–

–

how much

the good

will do,

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

make

.

t

h

e

.

change . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

make

.

t

h

e

.

change . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

a new day

dawns today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

a new day

dawns today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

every

day.

“and every day” echoes throughout end of song or other separate part of album such as the intro to the song, a later reprise, or both

Reflection: This was the lyrics to an indie pop song I wrote back in July of 2019 which could also be viewed as an inspirational/hope-themed poem. All of my poetry tends to be lyrical in nature – so writing poetry to music was pretty easy for me to do. I had written the music to the song back in 1990/1991 – but did not write the lyrics until 2019. This song/poem was written to inspire people to create magic, brilliance, brightness, and charm, and to make the most of out of each and every day – not just only for themselves but also for all of those they come in contact with.

The

petals

.

o

f

.

a

.

dying

dream,

.

.

c

a

n

.

.

bloom

when

.

b

a

r

e

.

hope

.

i

s

.

found . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

The

breeze 

above

.

a

silent

sea,

.

.

c

a

n

.

.

scatter

them

–

–

without

a

sound . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

(I know when the dream is gone)

The

tunnels

.

o

f

.

fantasy,

.

.

c

a

n

.

.

bring

you

.

t

o

.

where

.

y

o

u

.

might

long

.

t

o

.

be,

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

the

gates

.

o

f

.

eternity,

–

–

open

only

–

–

when

.

w

e

.

cease

.

t

o

.

be . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

(I know when the end is near)

So,

hold

me,

–

–

love

me,

–

–

I

want

.

s

o

.

much

.

t

o

.

believe . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Taunt

me,

–

–

tease

me,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

imprison

me

.

i

n

.

rhapsody . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

(for alone I will sleep till dawn)

<instrumental interlude>

Your

.

k

i

s

s

.

leaves

.

m

e

.

blue,

–

–

although

.

y

o

u

r

.

touch

.

i

s

.

cold

.

a

s

.

clay,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

even

.

i

f

.

your

love

.

i

s

.

true,

–

–

I

can’t

remove

.

t

h

e

.

barricade

.

I’ve

lost . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

(I’ll win when tomorrow comes)

So,

hold

me,

–

–

love

me,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

Illusion

me

.

w

i

t

h

.

ecstasy . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Taunt

me,

–

–

tease

me,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

surrender

.

t

o

.

my

destiny . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Bend

me,

–

–

break

me,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

remind

me

–

–

this

is

.

a

l

l

.

a

dream . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

(Goodbye my dear, there’s nothing left but here . . . Goodbye)

Reflection: This was the lyrics to an indie pop song I wrote back in July of 2019 which could also be viewed as a romantic-themed poem. All of my poetry tends to be lyrical in nature – so writing poetry to music was pretty easy for me to do. I had written the music to the song back in 1990/1991 – but did not write the lyrics until 2019. In this song/poem the contemplator confronts the decline of a once vibrant, romantic relationship – and realizes there is no point in continuing on. Because simply holding on to hope would just delay the inevitable – causing greater pain, distress, and distance in the process. I played around with some words on this one. For example, part of this can be read two different ways which was done intentionally:

“and even if your love is true, I can’t remove the barricade I’ve lost,” and later as a separate thought: “I’ll win when tomorrow comes.”

“and even if your love is true, I can’t remove the barricade.“

‘”Ive lost.” and later as a continued thought: I’ll win when tomorrow comes.”

So, take your pick.

I

once

.

h

a

d

.

a

heart,

–

–

which

.

f

e

l

l

.

in

love

.

w

i

t

h

.

the

dark . . .

–

–

–

 ~ couldn’t

see

.

t

h

e

.

day,

–

–

without

.

t

h

e

.

rain

.

o

f

.

shame . . .

–

–

–

 ~ didn’t

.

f

e

e

l

.

alive

.

o

r

.

awake,

–

–

without

.

t

h

e

.

pain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

once

.

w

e

r

e

.

caught,

.

.

i

n

.

.

my

cobwebs

.

o

f

.

thought . . .

–

–

–

 ~ everywhere

.

y

o

u

.

went,

.

.

y

o

u

.

.

had

.

t

o

.

defend . . .

–

–

–

 ~ everything

.

y

o

u

.

did,

–

–

could

.

b

e

.

seen

.

a

s

.

sin . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

can’t

.

l

e

t

.

go

.

o

f

.

this

–

–

controlling

sense,

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

I

can’t

.

h

o

l

d

.

on

.

t

o

o

.

long

.

l

i

k

e

.

this . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

can’t

escape

.

a

l

l

.

this

emptiness,

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

I

can’t

.

l

e

t

.

it

kill 

.

o

r

.

chill

.

m

y

.

soul . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

<instrumental interlude 1>

I

am

.

s

o

.

drawn,

.

.

t

o

.

.

things

that

.

a

r

e

.

wrong . . .

–

–

–

 ~ can’t

.

l

e

t

.

them

go,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

I

can’t

–

–

break

away . . .

.

.

.

 ~ can’t

.

l

e

t

.

them

show,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

I

can’t

.

m

a

k

e

.

them

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

<instrumental interlude 2>

I

once

.

h

a

d

.

a

heart,

–

–

which

.

f

e

l

l

.

in

love

.

w

i

t

h

.

the

dark . . .

–

–

–

 ~ couldn’t

see

.

t

h

e

.

day,

–

–

without

.

t

h

e

.

rain

.

o

f

.

shame . . .

–

–

–

 ~ didn’t

.

f

e

e

l

.

alive

.

o

r

.

awake,

–

–

without

.

t

h

e

.

pain.

Reflection: This was the lyrics to an indie pop song I wrote back in July of 2019 which could also be viewed as a personal struggle-themed poem. All of my poetry tends to be lyrical in nature – so writing poetry to music was pretty easy for me to do. I had written the music to the song back in 1990/1991 – but did not write the lyrics until 2019. In this song/poem the affected party tends to be drawn to that which tends to be wrong or bad for him/her and has trouble avoiding, breaking away from, and escaping them.