I

wish

–

–

I

was

–

–

more

.

l

i

k

e

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

wish

–

–

I

was

–

–

more

.

l

i

k

e

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

laughing

.

i

t

.

all

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Laughing

away

–

–

all

.

o

f

.

the

accumulating

–

–

payments

due . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Laughing

away

–

–

all

.

o

f

.

the

rumored

news

.

a

n

d

.

the

burdens

.

o

f

.

proof . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Laughing

away

–

–

the

gathering

gloom

.

i

n

.

the

middle

.

o

f

.

a

lonesome

room . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Laughing

away

–

–

all

.

o

f

.

the

phony

truths,

–

–

designed

.

t

o

.

pursue,

.

a

n

d

.

bruise,

.

a

n

d

.

ruin . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Laughing

.

i

t

.

all

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Laughing

.

i

t

.

all

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Laughing

.

i

t

.

all

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

with

glamor,

–

–

–

.

.

.

with

grit,

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

with

grace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

day,

–

–

after

night,

–

–

after

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

gray,

–

–

after

blue,

–

–

after

gray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

wish

–

–

I

was

–

–

more

.

l

i

k

e

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

wish

–

–

I

was

–

–

more

.

l

i

k

e

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

wish

–

–

I

was

–

–

more

.

l

i

k

e

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

right

here

.

i

n

.

the

shadows

.

o

f

.

this

room . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ right

here

.

i

n

.

the

shadows

.

o

f

.

this

room . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

where

.

t

h

e

.

whiskey

seethes

.

i

n

.

jealousy . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

The

whiskey

seethes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

The

whiskey

seethes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

The

whiskey

seethes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

jealousy . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

swings,

.

a

n

d

.

pounds,

.

a

n

d

.

beats . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

swings,

.

a

n

d

.

pounds,

.

a

n

d

.

beats . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

swings,

.

a

n

d

.

pounds,

.

a

n

d

.

beats . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

every

part

.

a

n

d

.

piece . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ every

part

.

a

n

d

.

piece

.

o

f

.

memory . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

belief

.

i

n

.

beauty . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

belief

.

i

n

.

a

beauty

–

–

which

bleeds.

Reflection:  I love the live, acoustic version of the Joni Mitchell song “People’s Parties” and the line “Laughing it all away” really hit home so I used that and expanded on it. I also love the live acoustic version of the Phil Ochs song “Pleasures of the Harbor” and loved the line “The whiskey’s loud” and changed that to “the whiskey seethes in jealousy” and expanded on that. I wasn’t really expecting both sections to fit together very well but they did! I wrote this poem off and on over a couple of days or so. It only took about a couple of hours to complete in total. I used both songs alternatively playing in the background at low volume to create the “moodset” for this poem. If you listen these songs at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

I

thought

.

o

f

.

you

.

a

n

d

.

smiled . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

wondered

how

–

–

your

life

–

–

had

gone

.

a

l

l

.

the

while . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

.

t

h

e

.

while

–

–

you

were

.

n

o

t

.

mine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

w

a

s

.

surprised

.

t

o

.

find

–

–

how

many

–

–

lows

.

a

n

d

.

highs

.

h

a

d

.

gone

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ how

many

–

–

lows

.

a

n

d

.

highs

.

h

a

d

.

gone

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

since

.

w

e

.

shined

–

–

our

smiles

.

o

f

.

Springtime . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

shined

–

–

our

smiles

.

o

f

.

Springtime . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

back

when

–

–

the

days

.

o

f

.

me

.

a

n

d

.

you

–

–

were

new,

.

a

n

d

.

still

.

i

n

.

bloom . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

.

w

e

r

e

.

new,

.

a

n

d

.

still

.

i

n

.

bloom . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

we

knew

–

–

we

could

.

n

o

t

.

lose . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

could

.

n

o

t

.

lose

.

i

n

.

those

restless

days

.

o

f

.

youth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

love

.

w

a

s

.

more

a

mood

–

–

than

a

proof . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

we

could

move,

.

a

n

d

.

pursue,

.

a

n

d

.

do

–

–

whatever

we’d

–

–

choose . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

could

do

–

–

whatever

we’d

–

–

choose . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

those

restless

days

.

o

f

.

youth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

everything

.

w

a

s

.

new,

.

a

n

d

.

still

.

i

n

.

bloom . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ when

everything

.

w

a

s

.

new,

.

a

n

d

.

still

.

i

n

.

bloom . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

including

me

.

a

n

d

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

How

much

time

–

–

passed

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

since

.

w

e

.

shined

–

–

our

smiles

.

o

f

.

Springtime

.

a

t

.

the 

starting

line . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ since

.

w

e

.

shined

–

–

our

smiles

.

o

f

.

Springtime

.

a

t

.

the 

starting

line . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

igniting

.

a

n

d

.

exciting

–

–

the

eyes

.

o

f

.

delight

–

–

which

–

–

came

alive

.

a

n

d

.

would

marvel

.

f

o

r

.

miles

.

a

t

.

a

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

would

marvel

.

f

o

r

.

miles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

would

marvel

.

f

o

r

.

miles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

would

marvel

.

f

o

r

.

miles

.

a

t

.

a

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ those

eyes

.

o

f

.

delight,

–

–

alive

.

i

n

.

our

springtime

smiles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

–

–

the

words,

–

–

the

rhythm,

.

a

n

d

.

the

rhyme

–

–

were

like

wine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

everything

.

w

a

s

.

fine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

everything

.

w

a

s

.

fine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

could

still

.

g

o

.

right . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ everything

 could

still

.

g

o

.

right

.

i

n

.

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

we

would

ride

–

–

the

skies

.

o

f

.

starshine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

would

ride

–

–

the

skies . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

would

ride

–

–

the

skies . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

would

ride

–

–

the

skies

.

o

f

.

starshine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

nice,

.

a

n

d

.

bright,

.

a

n

d

.

high,

.

a

n

d

.

wide . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

mile,

–

–

after

mile,

–

–

after

mile,

–

–

after

mile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

smile,

–

–

after

smile,

–

–

after

smile,

–

–

after

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

we

had

–

–

rhyme,

.

a

n

d

.

wine,

.

a

n

d

.

candlelight

.

o

n

.

our

side . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

had

–

–

rhyme,

.

a

n

d

.

wine,

.

a

n

d

.

candlelight

.

o

n

.

our

side . . .

–

–

–

.

.

when

we

shined

–

–

our

Springtime

smiles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ when

we

shined

–

–

our

Springtime

smiles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

thought

.

o

f

.

you

.

a

n

d

.

smiled . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

wondered

how

–

–

your

life

–

–

had

gone

.

a

l

l

.

the

while . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

the

while

–

–

you

were

.

n

o

t

.

mine.

Reflection:  This poem largely reflects looking back on a cherished, one-of-a-kind, past romance – and is something most of us have probably experienced in our lives. Romance seemed so much easier in the days of youth when expectations were much lower, and we were less judgmental and more forgiving towards each other.

The opening lines to this poem came to me while I was at New Smyrna Beach. The remainder of the poem came into being a couple of weeks later by the accidental intersection of one of my favorite movies (“Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool.”) and an old song on the radio that I had never heard before on the drive back from Daytona Beach (“Come Saturday Morning” by The Sandpipers which was a tiny but catchy echo from back in 1970 – its peak position on the charts was at #17). And although this song was not in the movie, and not much of a hit, it really hit me and fit perfectly with what I was reflecting on and trying to capture.

The song served as the primary inspiration for the poem which took several iterations to write (while playing the song repeatedly on 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.

I

felt

–

–

the

trace

.

o

f

.

that

warm

.

a

n

d

.

welcome

gray

–

–

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

warm

.

a

n

d

.

welcome

gray

.

f

r

o

m

.

that

day

.

i

n

.

the

rain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

day

.

i

n

.

the

rain

–

–

when

something

–

–

which

.

a

t

.

first

–

–

seemed

.

s

o

.

strange

.

a

n

d

.

full

.

o

f

.

shame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

became

.

s

o

.

great

.

o

n

.

the

page . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

became

.

s

o

.

great

.

o

n

.

the

page,

.

i

n

.

later

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

we

engaged

.

a

n

d

.

restrained . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

engaged

.

a

n

d

.

restrained . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

engaged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

engaged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

–

–

–

feelings

awake

.

a

n

d

.

ablaze . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

engaged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

engaged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

haste

.

o

f

.

a

tender

age . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

engaged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

engaged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

engaged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

engaged

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

everything

changed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

we

engaged

–

–

–

,

,

,

a

n

d

–

–

–

everything

changed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

was

never

–

–

the

same . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

was

never

–

–

the

same

–

–

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

felt

–

–

the

trace

.

o

f

.

that

warm

.

a

n

d

.

welcome

gray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

felt

–

–

the

trace

.

o

f

.

that

warm

.

a

n

d

.

welcome

gray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

felt

–

–

the

trace

.

o

f

.

that

warm

.

a

n

d

.

welcome

gray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

r

o

m

–

–

–

that

day

.

i

n

.

the

rain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

day

.

i

n

.

the

rain,

–

–

which

became

.

s

o

.

great

.

o

n

.

the

page . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

t

–

–

–

haunts

me

–

–

again

today.

Reflection:  This poem was written about an awkward romantic encounter in the days of youth. I played the wonderful, haunting song “First Thing in the Morning” by Secret Sun and the poem pretty much wrote itself from that (playing the song repeatedly on low volume to create the “moodset” for the poem). It was written fairly quickly – like a couple of hours or so. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

You

did

.

n

o

t

.

say . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

I

knew

.

i

t

.

anyway . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

knew

.

i

t

.

anyway . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

knew

.

i

t

.

in

.

t

h

e

.

way,

.

t

h

e

.

days

–

–

would

race

away,

.

a

n

d

.

try

.

t

o

.

escape . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

knew

.

i

t

.

in

.

t

h

e

.

way

–

–

that

page,

–

–

after

page,

–

–

after

page,

–

–

after

page

–

–

everything 

remained

.

t

h

e

.

same . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ everything

remained

.

t

h

e

.

same . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ the

once,

–

–

vibrant

colors

–

–

trading

.

f

o

r

.

grays . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ the

buying

.

o

f

.

more

lace

.

a

n

d

.

new

games

.

t

o

.

play . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

o

–

–

–

prove

we’re

–

–

still

okay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

played

–

–

those

games . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

played

–

–

those

games . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

played

–

–

those

games . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

o

–

–

–

prove

we’re

–

–

still

okay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ to

prove

–

–

we’re

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

okay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

even

though

–

–

when

we

–

–

warmly

embrace

–

–

we’re

far,

–

–

far

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we’re

far,

–

–

far

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

the

place

–

–

where

we

.

a

r

e

.

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ far

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

that

place

–

–

where

we

wait,

.

a

n

d

.

age,

–

a

n

d

–

watch

.

i

t

.

fade

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

watch

.

i

t

.

all

.

f

a

d

e

.

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

watch

–

i

t

–

all

.

f

a

d

e

.

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

romance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

rhythm . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

rhyme . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

carelessly

rolling

out

–

–

with

.

t

h

e

.

tide . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

rolls

out

–

–

with

.

t

h

e

.

tide . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

rolls

out

–

–

with

.

t

h

e

.

tide . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

rolls

out

–

–

with

.

t

h

e

.

tide . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

without

a

–

–

somber

sigh,

.

o

r

.

even

a

–

–

pale

goodbye . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

without

a

–

–

warming,

wishful

–

–

word

.

t

o

.

write . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

did

.

n

o

t

.

say . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

I

knew

.

i

t

.

anyway . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

knew

.

i

t

.

in

.

t

h

e

.

way,

–

–

the

days

–

–

raced

away,

.

a

n

d

.

tried

.

t

o

.

escape . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

knew

.

i

t

.

in

.

t

h

e

.

way

–

–

that

page,

–

–

after

page,

–

–

after

page . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

everything 

remained

.

t

h

e

.

same.

Reflection:  This poem was written about a fading romance and the subtle cues along the way. I wrote much of this poem at Daytona Beach (at least a good draft). The opening words came to me and the poem sort of wrote itself from there. At home, I refined it using the song “Picture You” by The Amazing playing 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.

The

sunset

fades

–

–

those

carefree

days

.

o

f

.

passionate

plays

.

a

n

d

.

shimmering

champagnes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

carefree

days

.

o

f

.

passionate

plays

.

a

n

d

.

shimmering

champagnes

–

–

that

somehow

–

–

got

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

somehow

–

–

got

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

those

carefree

days

.

o

f

.

passionate

plays

.

a

n

d

.

shimmering

champagnes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

carefree

days

.

o

f

.

passionate

plays

.

a

n

d

.

shimmering

champagnes

–

–

that

time

erased . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

those

yesterdays

–

–

that

got

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

got

away

.

a

n

d

.

time

erased . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

.

I

can

sometimes

–

–

still

see

–

–

the

pristine

places

.

a

n

d

.

the

smiling

faces . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

can

sometimes

–

–

still

see

–

–

the

pristine

places

.

a

n

d

.

the

smiling

faces . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

even

feel

the

–

–

warm

embraces . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

I

can

–

–

even

feel

–

–

the

warm

embraces . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

those

carefree

days

.

o

f

.

passionate

plays

.

a

n

d

.

shimmering

champagnes

–

–

that

somehow

–

–

got

away.

Reflection:  I was playing the wonderful song “Times of Your Life” by Paul Anka and the poem pretty much wrote itself – when I played the song repeatedly on low volume to create the “moodset” for the poem. The poem was written fairly quickly – like an hour or so. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

I

love

.

t

h

e

.

rain

–

–

upon

.

t

h

e

.

window

panes

.

o

f

.

that

cozy,

–

–

candlelight

cafe . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

cozy,

–

–

candlelight

cafe

–

–

where

we

–

–

could

stay

.

a

n

d

.

get

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

–

–

could

stay

.

a

n

d

.

get

away

.

i

n

.

that

cozy,

–

–

candlelight

cafe . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ get

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

the

pain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ get

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

the

blame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ get

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

the

same,

–

o

l

d

–

same . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

could

stay

.

a

n

d

.

embrace

.

i

n

.

a

place

–

–

far

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ far

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

the

plans,

.

a

n

d

.

hopes,

.

a

n

d

.

dreams

–

–

that

would

–

–

flame,

.

a

n

d

.

flicker,

.

a

n

d

.

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ far

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

the

debts

–

–

we

would

–

–

accumulate

.

a

n

d

.

pay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

pay

.

a

n

d

.

accumulate . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ far

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

all

.

t

h

e

.

reasons

.

a

n

d

.

ways

–

–

we

felt

.

s

o

.

ashamed

.

a

n

d

.

thought

.

w

e

.

had

.

t

o

.

find

.

a

.

place

.

t

o

.

pray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ far

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

the

things

–

–

they

–

–

might

do

.

o

r

.

say . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

f

–

–

–

they

knew

–

–

we

felt

–

–

this

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ if

–

–

they

knew

–

–

we

felt

–

–

this

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

love

.

t

h

e

.

rain

–

–

upon

.

t

h

e

.

window

panes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

love

.

t

h

e

.

rain

–

–

upon

.

t

h

e

.

window

panes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

love

.

t

h

e

.

rain

–

–

upon

.

t

h

e

.

window

panes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

that

cozy,

–

–

candlelight

cafe . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

cozy,

–

–

candlelight

cafe . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

where

we

–

–

could

embrace,

.

a

n

d

.

stay,

.

a

n

d

.

get

away.

Reflection: This poem is written as a reflection on a forbidden romance. I wrote this poem using a much-loved 70s song (“Me and Mrs. Jones” by Billy Paul). So, if you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it. It only took me a couple of hours to write it which is unusually fast when I write poetry.

If 

you

.

d

o

. 

nothing

.

t

o

.

appear . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

make

.

i

t

.

seem

–

–

you

.

w

e

r

e

.

here . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

h

e

n

–

–

–

you’ll

.

o

n

l

y

.

disappear.

Reflection:  This tiny poem was inspired by Kevin Morby’s song: “Disappearing.” I played this song in the background to create the “moodset” and inspire the writing of the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

I

took

–

–

just

a

glance

–

–

and

.

.

f

e

l

l

.

.

into

romance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

.

.

f

e

l

l

.

.

into

romance

–

–

where

.

t

h

e

.

candles

dance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ where

.

t

h

e

.

candles

dance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ where

.

t

h

e

.

candles

dance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

all

hours

.

o

f

.

caressing

feet

.

a

n

d

.

hands . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

hours

.

o

f

.

blissful

breath

–

–

upon

lips

–

–

that

land . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ blissful

breath

–

–

upon

lips

–

–

that

land . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

took

–

–

just

a

glance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

took

–

–

just

a

glance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

took

–

–

just

a

glance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

and

.

.

f

e

l

l

.

.

into

romance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

.

.

f

e

l

l

.

.

into

romance

–

–

where

.

t

h

e

.

candles

dance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ where

.

t

h

e

.

candles

dance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

all

hours

.

o

f

.

blissful

breath

–

–

upon

lips

–

–

that

land . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

until

.

w

e

.

awake . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ until

.

w

e

.

awake,

–

–

smiling

upon

.

t

h

e

.

sands . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ smiling

upon

.

t

h

e

.

shimmering

sands

.

o

f

.

faraway

lands.

Reflection:  This poem was written about a sweeping, runaway romance. I wrote most of this poem by listening to the wonderful, haunting gem of a song “Touch in Mine” by Esperanza Spalding which I played in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem 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.

You

might

have

–

–

yearned

for

more

.

o

r

.

stirred

the

urge

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

got

hammered

.

w

i

t

h

.

hurt . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ you

might

have

–

–

gotten

hammered

.

w

i

t

h

.

hurt . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

no

matter

how

–

–

much

it

bleeds

.

a

n

d

.

burns . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

you

can

–

–

rest

assured

–

–

there

.

i

s

.

always

–

–

something

there

.

t

o

.

learn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ there

.

i

s

.

always

–

–

something

there

.

t

o

.

learn,

–

–

which

can

–

–

push

you

–

–

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

blur . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

create

.

t

h

e

.

coming

.

o

f

.

the

curve . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

can

–

–

push

you

–

–

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

blur . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

create

.

t

h

e

.

coming

.

o

f

.

the

curve . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

when

.

i

t

.

turns,

.

i

t

.

turns . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

when

.

i

t

.

turns,

.

i

t

.

turns,

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

turns . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

turns . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

turns . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

you

.

m

a

y

.

feel

a

little

.

m

o

r

e

.

pure,

.

a

n

d

.

a

little

.

m

o

r

e

.

sure . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ you

.

m

a

y

.

feel

a

little

.

m

o

r

e

.

sure . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

gain

a

greater

sense

.

o

f

.

worth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ experience

a

kind

rebirth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

merge

into

.

t

h

e

.

mirth

–

–

that

things

.

a

r

e

.

no

longer

.

a

s

.

they

were . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ things

.

a

r

e

.

no

longer

.

a

s

.

they

were . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

before

.

t

h

e

.

time

–

–

when

.

y

o

u

.

yearned

.

f

o

r

.

more . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ before

.

t

h

e

.

time

–

–

when

.

y

o

u

.

yearned

.

f

o

r

.

more . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ before

.

t

h

e

.

time

–

–

when

.

y

o

u

.

yearned

.

f

o

r

.

more . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

got

hammered

.

w

i

t

h

.

hurt

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

bled

.

a

n

d

.

burned.

Reflection:  When reflecting on my investments and losing 6% in 2022 in just the first month, I decided to stay the course and continue buying into weakness although I was almost 100% invested – because when it turns, it turns . . . That line stuck with me and inspired me to write this poem. The stock market carnage continued throughout 2022 but I more than made up for the losses in 2023.

A

binge

–

–

becomes

addiction . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

here

comes

.

t

h

a

t

.

feeling

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

.

h

e

r

e

.

comes

.

t

h

a

t

.

fleeting

.

a

n

d

.

flickering

–

–

feeling

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

heartbeats

skipping,

.

a

n

d

.

cartwheeling,

.

a

n

d

.

freewheeling

–

–

into

.

t

h

a

t

.

fairytale

fantasy

–

–

as

old

.

a

n

d

.

timeless

.

a

s

.

the

sea . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ as

old

.

a

n

d

.

timeless

.

a

s

.

the

sea . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Did

.

y

o

u

.

think

.

i

t

.

might

–

–

make

.

y

o

u

.

free . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ did

.

y

o

u

.

think

.

i

t

.

might . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ this

dance

.

w

i

t

h

.

ecstasy

.

s

o

.

serenely

sweet . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ this

dance

.

w

i

t

h

.

ecstasy

.

s

o

.

serenely

sweet

.

a

n

d

.

pleasing

.

i

t

.

seems . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

.

c

a

n

.

like,

.

a

n

d

.

lust,

.

a

n

d

.

love . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

you

.

c

a

n

.

like,

.

a

n

d

.

lust,

.

a

n

d

.

love . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

we

.

c

a

n

.

like,

.

a

n

d

.

lust,

.

a

n

d

.

love . . .

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

where

.

d

o

.

you

think

.

i

t

.

might

lead . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ just

where

.

d

o

.

you

think

.

i

t

.

might

lead . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

streets

–

–

where

naive

dreams

–

–

begin

.

t

o

.

bruise

.

a

n

d

.

bleed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

streets

–

–

where

jealousy

.

a

n

d

.

greed

–

–

breathes

.

a

n

d

.

feeds . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

breathes

.

a

n

d

.

feeds . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

breathes

.

a

n

d

.

feeds . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

breathes

.

a

n

d

.

feeds . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

infecting

each,

.

a

n

d

.

all,

.

a

n

d

.

every . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ infecting

each,

.

a

n

d

.

all,

.

a

n

d

.

every . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

streets

–

–

where

jealousy

.

a

n

d

.

greed

–

–

breathes

.

a

n

d

.

feeds . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

streets

–

–

where

naive

dreams

–

–

begin

.

t

o

.

bruise

.

a

n

d

.

bleed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

A

binge

–

–

becomes

addiction . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

A

binge

–

–

becomes

addiction . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

A

binge

–

–

becomes

addiction . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

here

comes

.

t

h

a

t

.

feeling

again.

Reflection:  This poem is a reflection on those uncontrollable urges and temptations we sometimes get which can take on a life of their own. The person in the poem suffering from such urges and temptations – and the dark places they have sometimes led expresses uneasiness, anxiety, and the sense of helplessness and hopelessness that a new negative cycle is about to begin with the line: “but… here comes that feeling again.”

Anytime something consumes so much of our life that we make little or no progress, or do much of anything else, in our lives, we must take drastic, continual action in the attempt to defeat and overcome.

I heard the line “drink into addition” in the Holy Wave song “Interloper” and then came up with the line “A binge becomes addiction” and the remainder of the poem came into being after starting from that.

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.