I

.

c

a

n

.

see

.

t

h

e

.

blue,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

can

feel

.

t

h

e

.

move . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

know

.

y

o

u

.

will

.

b

e

.

coming

soon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

.

i

s

.

the

coming

.

o

f

.

the

mood . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

coming

.

o

f

.

the

mood

.

t

h

a

t

.

leads

to . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

t

–

–

–

leads

to . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

know

.

i

t

.

can

.

b

e

. 

difficult

.

t

o

.

read,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

to

keep

.

u

p

.

with

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

tell

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ tell

.

m

e

.

please . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

because

.

I

. 

cannot

believe,

–

–

I’m

.

t

h

e

.

one

.

y

o

u

.

truly

need . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ no,

.

i

t

.

is

not

.

m

e

.

that

.

y

o

u

.

find

.

s

o

.

pleasing . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

not

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

not

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

my

–

–

lightning

streaming,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

wildly

careening . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

energy

heating,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

the

electricity

screaming . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Green,

–

–

pounding

yellow,

–

–

pounding

green . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

h

e

–

–

–

raw,

–

–

bold,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

beaming,

–

–

eccentric

–

–

!!! E-C-L-E-C-T-I-C-I-T-Y !!!

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

green,

–

–

electric

–

–

!!! E-C-L-E-C-T-I-C-I-T-Y !!!

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

all

.

y

o

u

.

mean . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

all

.

y

o

u

.

mean

.

t

o

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

because

.

I

.

c

a

n

.

be

.

anyone

.

y

o

u

.

want

.

o

r

.

need . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

.

I

.

can

.

b

e

.

one,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

any,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

all,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

everything . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

because

just

.

l

i

k

e

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

a

m

.

running . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

a

m

.

running 

against

.

t

h

e

.

celebrity

machine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

.

a

m

.

running

against

.

a

n

d

.

running

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

.

a

m

.

running

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

enough

.

a

b

o

u

t

.

that,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

those,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

these . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

let

.

m

e

.

tell

.

y

o

u

.

what

.

I

.

really

need,

–

–

because

right

.

n

o

w

.

you’re

about

.

a

s

.

sweet

.

a

s

.

sweet

.

c

a

n

.

be . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ you’re

.

a

s

.

sweet

.

a

s

.

sweet

.

c

a

n

.

be,

–

–

right

now . . .

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ now

.

t

h

a

t

.

you

.

a

r

e

.

here

.

w

i

t

h

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ just

.

a

.

brief

sting

.

i

s

.

all

.

I

.

need . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ just

.

a

.

brief

sting

.

o

f

.

!!! E-L-E-C-T-R-I-C-I-T-Y !!!

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ a

brief

sting

.

t

o

.

break

free . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ to

break

free

.

f

r

o

m

.

this,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

all,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

everything . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

today

.

I

.

a

m

.

leaving . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

today

.

I

.

a

m

. 

leaving . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

with

.

o

r

.

without . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

singing

.

o

r

.

swinging . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

a

m

.

leaving . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ up

.

o

r

.

down . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

above

.

o

r

.

beneath . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

a

m

.

leaving . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ cautious

.

o

r

.

carefree . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

beyond

.

o

r

.

between . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

serene

.

o

r

.

screaming . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

a

m

.

leaving . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

.

a

m

.

leaving.

Reflection: This was a forgotten personal struggle-themed poem I wrote back in July of 2019 where the affected party tends to become consumed by the various temptations and addictions he or she encounters in life (sex, drugs, gambling, drinking, whatever . . .).

Take

.

m

y

.

hand,

.

m

y

.

somber

friend,

.

a

n

d

.

you

.

w

i

l

l

. 

never

.

c

r

y

.

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

.

w

i

l

l

.

never

.

c

r

y

.

again

.

f

o

r

.

those

days

–

–

which

might

.

h

a

v

e

.

been . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ never

.

c

r

y

.

again,

–

–

lost

.

a

n

d

.

alone

.

i

n

.

the

darkness . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ never

.

c

r

y

.

again

.

f

o

r

.

the

relentless,

–

–

rhyming

reasons

.

o

f

.

rolling

regrets,

–

–

turning

end,

.

o

v

e

r

.

end,

.

o

v

e

r

.

end,

.

o

v

e

r

.

end,

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

filling

you

.

w

i

t

h

.

the

haunting . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

filling

you

.

w

i

t

h

.

the

haunting . . .

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

filling

you

.

w

i

t

h

.

the

haunting

–

–

emptiness

.

o

f

.

a

pale

–

–

tenderness

passing . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

never

again

.

m

y

.

somber

friend

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ never

again

.

w

i

l

l

.

you

cry . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

I

will

.

b

e

.

your

guide . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

will

.

b

e

.

the

guide

.

w

h

o

.

polishes

.

y

o

u

r

.

shine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

will

.

b

e

.

the

guide

.

w

h

o

.

lights

.

t

h

e

.

candles

.

i

n

.

your

eyes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

will

.

b

e

.

the

guide

.

w

h

o

.

makes

.

y

o

u

.

beam

.

i

n

t

o

.

a

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

will

.

b

e

.

the

guide

.

w

h

o

.

brings

love,

.

a

n

d

.

warmth,

.

a

n

d

.

sunshine

–

–

all

.

t

h

e

.

while . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ even 

beneath

.

t

h

e

.

wild

.

a

n

d

.

winding,

–

–

wuthering

skies . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

you

.

w

i

l

l

.

climb . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

you

.

w

i

l

l

.

climb . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

you

.

w

i

l

l

.

climb . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

daylight . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

hour,

–

–

after

hour,

–

–

after

hour . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

mile,

–

–

after

mile,

–

–

after

mile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

five . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

seven . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

nine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

miles

high . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

still,

–

–

you

.

w

i

l

l

.

climb . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

still,

–

–

you

.

w

i

l

l

.

climb . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

still,

–

–

you

.

w

i

l

l

.

climb . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

I

will

–

–

always

.

b

e

. 

right

beside . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

side

.

b

y

.

side . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

l

l

–

–

–

day,

.

a

n

d

.

every

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

l

l

–

–

–

night,

.

a

n

d

.

every

night . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

never

again

.

w

i

l

l

.

you

cry

.

m

y

.

friend . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

j

u

s

t

–

–

–

take

.

m

y

.

hand . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

j

u

s

t

–

–

–

take

.

m

y

.

hand . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

j

u

s

t

–

–

–

take

.

m

y

.

hand . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

let

.

t

h

e

.

daylight

begin.

Reflection:  

This poem was written to comfort someone whose life partner had died. I can’t imagine how difficult an experience like that might be.

I

thought

about

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

then

–

i

t

–

was

gone . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ it

.

w

a

s

.

gone . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

like

–

t

h

e

–

old

song . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

e

–

–

–

used

–

t

o

–

sing

along . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

used

–

t

o

–

sing

along

–

t
o
–

that
song . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ we

used

–

t

o

–

sing

–

a

l

l

–

hours

beyond

–

t

h

e

–

dusk . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

magnificence

above

–

t

h

e

–

sweet

smelling

musk . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

miles,

–

–

upon

miles,

–

–

upon

miles

–

o

f

–

mystery

–

a

n

d

–

movement

beneath

–

t

h

e

–

eternal

skies

–

o

f

–

nighttime . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

– 

–

–

now

–

i

t

–

is

dawn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ yes,

now

–

i

t

–

is

dawn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

daytime

calls . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

t

–

–

–

is

dawn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

t

–

–

–

is

dawn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

in

moments . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

in

mere

–

–

moments

on . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

y

o

u

–

–

–

once

again

–

–

will

–

b

e

–

gone.

Reflection:  This poem is largely a reflection on an old romance. I wrote most of this poem by listening to the wonderful, haunting gem of a song “No End to Love” by Orlando Weeks which I played in the background at low volume to create the moodset and inspire the writing of the poem. So, if you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

I

told

you

–

–

I

loved

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

still

do,

–

–

anytime

I

move

–

i

n

t

o

– 

that

same

–

–

old

room . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

same

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

t

–

–

–

the

same

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

same

mood . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ when

.

t

h

e

.

bass

–

a

n

d

–

brooding

brews

–

o

f

– 

“might 

have

been”

blues

–

– 

begin

–

t

o

–

bloom . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

start 

hearing

–

t

h

a

t

–

same

haunting

tune . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

h

a

t

–

–

–

same

haunting

tune . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

r

o

m

–

–

–

way 

back

then . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when 

–

t

h

e

–

days 

–

–

were

new . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ when

.

t

h

e

.

days

–

–

were

new . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

filled

–

w

i

t

h

–

me’s

–

a

n

d

–

you’s.

Reflection:  I wrote this poem in reflection of a favorite, much-played David Bowie Album called “Hours.” My favorite tracks on it were “If I’m Dreaming My Life, ” “Tuesday’s Child,” “Seven,” “What’s Really Happening,” “Something in the Air,” and “Survive.” However, the entire album is excellent and one of my favorite albums of all time by David Bowie.

How

.

m

a

n

y

.

times

.

h

a

v

e

.

I

.

opened

.

m

y

.

eyes

.

t

o

.

find . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

yesterday’s

rhymes

.

o

f

.

smiles

.

a

n

d

.

sunshine,

–

–

teed,

.

a

n

d

.

tied,

.

a

n

d

.

tagged,

.

a

n

d

.

tossed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

carelessly

.

o

u

t

.

of

.

m

y

.

life?

–

–

–

.

.

.

How

.

m

a

n

y

.

more

.

t

i

m

e

s

.

before . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

–

–

–

learn

.

t

o

.

savor

.

t

h

e

.

wine,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

tightly

–

–

grip

.

t

h

e

.

vine?

–

–

–

.

.

.

How

.

m

a

n

y

.

more

times?

–

–

–

.

.

.

How

.

m

a

n

y

.

more

times?

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

remember

.

w

h

e

n

.

our

days

.

w

e

r

e

.

new . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ when

.

t

h

e

.

skies

.

w

e

r

e

.

bold

.

a

n

d

.

burning

blue . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

wide

.

a

n

d

.

high

–

–

across

.

t

h

e

.

days

.

a

n

d

.

nights . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

pride

.

a

n

d

.

promise

–

–

burned

bright

–

–

within

.

o

u

r

.

eyes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ pride

.

a

n

d

.

promise

–

–

burned

bright

–

–

within

.

o

u

r

.

eyes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

shined

warming

.

r

a

y

s

.

of

sunlight

.

u

p

o

n

.

all

.

a

n

d

.

everything

.

w

h

i

c

h

.

might . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

way

.

b

a

c

k

.

then,

.

w

h

e

n

.

worries

.

w

e

r

e

.

few . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

there

.

w

a

s

.

nothing

much

.

t

o

.

lose . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ there

.

w

a

s

.

nothing

much

.

t

o

.

lose,

.

i

n

.

the

days

.

o

f

.

me

.

a

n

d

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ way

.

b

a

c

k

.

then,

.

w

h

e

n

.

everyone

said

.

w

e

.

moved

.

t

o

o

.

soon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

moved

.

t

o

o

.

soon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

me

.

a

n

d

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

moved

.

t

o

o

.

soon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

moved

.

t

o

o

.

soon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

moved

.

t

o

o

.

soon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

me

.

a

n

d

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

perhaps

.

i

t

.

was

–

–

all

.

t

o

o

.

true,

–

–

within

.

t

h

o

s

e

.

spinning

rooms,

.

.

o

f

.

.

flickering

hues

.

a

n

d

.

margarita

moons . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ perhaps

.

i

t

.

was

–

–

all

.

t

o

o

.

true . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

there

.

w

a

s

.

nothing

else

.

I

.

could

do . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

no

.

o

n

e

.

else

.

I

.

could

pursue . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ you

were

.

s

o

.

beautiful

.

i

n

.

your

youth.

Reflection: This was a forgotten but important romantic-themed poem I wrote back in December of 2018 in loving appreciation and memory of those special, wonderful people that I got to share such pleasant (and sometimes very passionate) times with. They added such warmth, color, beauty, and music to my life and to the living collage that is me – and today I am the result of all of those contributing parts and pieces (and more). And I cherish and appreciate each and every one of them.

So, yes, I’ve had some fun times and adventure in my life.

You

.

a

r

e

.

just

.

a

.

silhouette

.

i

n

.

the

fog . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

r

o

m

–

–

–

those

days,

–

–

when

days

–

–

were

l—o—n—g . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ a

silhouette

.

i

n

.

the

fog,

–

–

that

once

–

–

danced

across

.

t

h

e

.

pages

.

o

f

.

journal

entry

songs . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ the

journal

–

–

entry

songs

.

o

f

.

you’s

.

a

n

d

.

me’s . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

carelessly

crumpled,

–

–

torn,

.

a

n

d

.

tossed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

.

now . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ yes,

now . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

my

days

.

a

r

e

.

dark,

.

a

n

d

.

filled

with

.

t

h

e

.

grays

.

o

f

.

your

once

–

–

warming

rays . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ your

once

–

–

warming

rays . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

shivering

.

i

n

.

the

shade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

shivering

.

i

n

.

the

shade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

s

.

.

.

the

final

trace

.

o

f

.

memories

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ as

.

t

h

e

.

final

trace

.

o

f

.

memories

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

still

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ yes,

still

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

would

love

.

t

o

.

find

a

way

.

t

o

.

communicate . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

l

l

.

.

.

of

.

m

y

.

sorrow

.

f

o

r

.

the

shame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

tell

.

o

f

.

all

.

t

h

e

.

ways,

–

–

I

would

make

.

y

o

u

.

smile

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

.

you

.

a

r

e

.

just

a

silhouette

.

i

n

.

the

fog . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ a

silhouette

.

i

n

.

the

fog . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

all

.

o

f

.

those

years,

–

–

now

.

h

a

v

e

.

gone . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ all

.

o

f

.

those

years,

–

–

now

.

h

a

v

e

.

gone . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

are

forever

lost.

Reflection:

This poem largely reflects the regret of having ignored someone or not treated him/her as well as we could have in the distant past. Looking back, we feel the person could have been a much larger, brighter part of our lives but the distance and the barriers now seem far too great to overcome.

This poem was inspired by the Moody Blues song, “Watching and Waiting.” I played this song repeatedly in the background at low volume 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.

It

was

.

t

h

e

. 

tumble

.

before

.

t

h

e

.

fall . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

.

g

r

a

y

.

before

.

t

h

e

.

dawn

.

o

f

.

awakening . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

awakening

.

t

o

. 

this,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

all,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

everything . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

h

a

d

.

done

.

t

o

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

o

–

–

–

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

to

everyone . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

h

o

–

–

–

might

.

h

a

v

e

.

lived,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

laughed,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

loved . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

there

.

w

a

s

.

no

one,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

nothing

there . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

n

o

t

–

–

–

even

.

a

.

shred

.

t

o

.

share . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

I

.

h

a

d

.

gone

.

f

a

r

.

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

reaches

.

o

f

.

despair . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ far

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

beaches

.

o

f

.

the

thousand

.

y

a

r

d

.

stare . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ far

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

valleys

where

.

n

o

.

one

dared . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

far

beyond . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

far

beyond . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

far

beyond . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

– 

no

.

o

n

e

.

cared.

Reflection: This was a forgotten personal struggle-themed poem that I wrote back in December of 2018 where the contemplator looks back with regret on a life where he/she created distance and largely lived in isolation – and wakes up to a loneliness and despair which is far beyond repair. He/she lives the remaining days of life haunted by the painful strings of memories of everything he/she had done to arrive in that place and state. I played the wonderful, haunting gem of a song “Tuesday Afternoon” by The Moody Blues 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.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

.

time

.

o

f

.

types,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

divides,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

ways

.

t

o

.

decide:

–

–

–

.

.

.

This

one

.

t

o

o

.

tall . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

this

one

.

t

o

o

.

small . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

This

one

.

t

o

o

.

new . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

this

one

.

j

u

s

t

.

plain

too . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Yes,

.

t

h

e

r

e

.

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

.

time

.

o

f

.

types,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

divides,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

ways

.

t

o

.

decide

which

.

a

l

l

.

went

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ which

.

a

l

l

.

went

.

a

w

a

y

.

when

.

y

o

u

.

arrived

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

even

though

.

I

.

could

clearly

.

s

e

e

.

you

were:

–

–

–

.

.

.

too

tall . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

too

small . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

too

new . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

just

.

p

l

a

i

n

.

too . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

even

in

.

t

h

a

t

.

crowded

room,

.

.

t

h

e

r

e

.

.

was

.

n

o

.

one

.

b

u

t

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ there

.

w

a

s

.

no

one

.

b

u

t

.

you

.

a

n

d

.

I

.

all

.

t

h

e

.

while,

–

–

building

.

t

h

e

.

bonfire . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ building

.

t

h

e

.

bonfire,

–

–

higher

.

a

n

d

.

higher . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

higher

.

a

n

d

.

higher . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

higher

.

a

n

d

.

higher . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

t

o

.

a

.

racing,

.

raging

.

forest

fire . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

breaking

out

.

i

n

.

the

wide

.

open

wild . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

consuming

.

a

l

l

.

that

used

.

t

o

.

be

true . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ consuming

.

a

l

l

.

that

used

.

t

o

.

be

too . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ for

now . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

now . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

there

.

i

s

.

only

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

.

i

s

.

only

you

.

a

n

d

.

I,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

the

moon

.

o

f

.

June . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ a

moon

.

o

f

.

June

.

i

n

.

full

bloom.

Reflection: This was a forgotten romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in November of 2018 where a typically picky and selective romancer finds there can be lust, love, and romance with someone outside of one’s perceived or self-prescribed preferences.

I

cried

today

.

w

h

e

n

.

I

.

saw

.

y

o

u

r

.

face . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

no

matter

.

h

o

w

.

much

.

I

.

say,

.

.

o

r

.

.

how

many

ways

.

I

.

hate

.

a

n

d

.

berate

myself,

.

.

t

h

e

.

.

haunting

remains . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

haunting

remains . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

never

.

g

o

e

s

.

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

the

.

o

n

l

y

.

escape

.

i

s

.

to

fade

–

–

the

pain,

–

–

the

guilt,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

the

shame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

simply

.

g

o

.

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ go

away,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

erase

.

t

h

e

.

name . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Sometimes

I

wait

.

a

n

d

.

hope

.

f

o

r

.

warmer,

–

–

brighter

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

wait

.

a

n

d

.

hope

.

f

o

r

.

warmer,

–

–

brighter

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

it

.

i

s

.

just

.

a

.

wait . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ just

. 

a

.

short

.

a

n

d

.

gray,

–

–

somber

delay,

–

–

until

.

I

.

see

.

y

o

u

r

.

face

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ until

.

I

.

see

.

y

o

u

r

.

face

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

.

o

n

l

y

.

escape

.

i

s

.

to

fade

.

t

h

e

.

pain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

go

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

.

o

n

l

y

.

escape

.

i

s

.

to

fade

.

t

h

e

.

pain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

go

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

.

I

.

w

i

l

l

.

see

.

y

o

u

r

.

face . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

.

w

i

l

l

.

see

.

t

h

a

t

.

bitter,

–

–

unforgiving

face . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

again,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

again,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

again,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

again,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

until

.

t

h

e

.

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ until

.

t

h

e

.

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

it

ends

.

t

h

i

s

.

way.

Reflection: This was a forgotten but powerful personal struggle-themed poem I wrote back in November of 2018 where the affected party is haunted by and cannot escape the guilt and shame experienced in the past. This is one of the few poems I have written that was inspired by a movie. This one was inspired by the moving, powerful movie: “In Bruges.”

I

remember

.

t

h

e

.

time,

.

.

w

h

e

n

.

.

all

.

w

e

.

had . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

all

.

w

e

.

desired . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

all

.

w

e

.

needed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

a

s

–

–

–

you

.

a

n

d

.

I . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ back

.

w

h

e

n

.

every

roll

.

o

f

.

the

dice

–

–

seemed

right . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ back

.

w

h

e

n

.

every

night

–

–
would

arrive

.

w

i

t

h

.

a

.

higher,

–

–
brighter

high . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

as

.

t

h

e

.

miles

.

o

f

.

months

.

a

n

d

.

years

–

–

rolled

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

youth

. 

a

n

d

.

magic

–

–

began

.

t

o

.

dim

.

a

n

d

.

die . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

we

awoke

.

t

o

.

realize,

–

–

there

.

i

s

.

only

you

.

a

n

d

.

I . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ there

.

i

s

.

only

.

t

h

e

.

you

.

a

n

d

.

I

.

who

.

h

a

d

.

such

.

a

.

beautiful

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ who

.

h

a

d

.

such

.

a

.

beautiful

time,

.

.

i

n

.

.

the

dimming,

–

–

dying

. 

d

a

y

s

.

gone

by.

Reflection: This was a forgotten romantic-themed poem I wrote back in November of 2018 where the contemplator looks back on a dimming, dying romance that was once so passionate and vibrant in the days of youth – and comes to realize that the person he or she is with is no longer enough. This is one of the few poems I have written over the years that was inspired by a movie. This one was inspired by the wonderful movie: “Blue Valentine.”