Sweet Nothing

There is a space between us,

Where time and life exists

Words run thru like current,

The charge felt within the flesh

Distance is a pencil, miles recorded in smudging graphite

Could they be erased, you’d be here tonight

Thoughtless as spilled sugar around our coffee cups,

We’ve no mind to hurry, there’ll be time for us

As a bird spreads its wings, we shall soon fly

Soar across the vast expanse, a place for you and I

Even if the space between is filled with empty breaths,

Even if we are encumbered by certain circumstance,

Temper the grin that has surely formed,

Let silent lips utter happy sighs

Dream your fantasies and hold them close

You cling to yours and I’ll cling to mine

 

 

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/shazlypics/2744672501/”>A.Shazly</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

The Quiet Places

 

We came together in the quiet places, those that allow the

Echo of birds’ voices to resonate across the field,

Those that allow the drip, drip of rain to plop onto a metal roof,

Where sun porches are a necessity and tea glasses are kept filled;

We lay, spent, in the afternoon and the evening time,

Our own hushed voices only that above a whisper;

Our conversations drifting from the silly to the desperate,

From those whom we have loved to love unreturned,

There, we found ourselves examining the motivations and

Asking those questions of one another we cannot ask of them;

The answers limited, the answers exaggerated by our bent

Perceptions and nothing was accomplished but for the

Release of passion between two lonely hearts

 

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/zedzap/4664908938/”>Nick Kenrick .</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

 

Hope

Should I have hope, that which Ms. Dickinson wrote of?

Mine has feathers, but a wounded wing, for it cannot seem to perch

Mine has a tune, which it does not sing, for it’s been silenced by hurt

Hope has been described, by me, as a balloon inflated one breath too far

Should I hope to dream of love, I fear it’d drift away on a fallen star

I should not hope, lest be confined to a cell of unnamed strife

Where the heart and the soul and the mind derange

Where the bitter taste of loneliness fans invisible flames

Where life and certain slumber slither beneath cracks in the door

Shall I hope? I think I shall hope forevermore

 

 

(photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/digitalart/3065769907/”>digitalART2</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;)

In the Moment

I haven’t even looked for the words, no desire to see them plop down on the page,

heavy like an elephant sitting on a cedar branch;

I have been living, silly me listening to the sounds of the air

Moving thru the leaves of spring branches;

Some unneed for the written; beyond me.

I am, for once, untorn between reality and fantasy;

I am… in the moment and the moments are good.