Contrite love poem

I’ve tried to quantify

or written why

The way I feel is

different and the same

Cheesy romcoms,

heartbreaking tragedies

Romeo and Juliet

Jim and Pam

Fate brought them together

Silence keeps us apart

I wonder how you don’t see

what I see so clear

Do you ever have the thought

but then stop yourself?

Mustn’t wander down the path,

I imagine you might think.

You may turn around

Before even that thought.

Maybe you’d be happy, forever

With the one who holds you now

I’d hold you more tightly,

and you’d know more than happy

It might seem to you a chance

I know our future is anything but

Hawaii

I fled Ohio
mid-winter blues,
left for Oahu
and its ocean hues.

Once there, I found
some sandy shore,
bared my chest and
every day swam 'til four.

The week flew by,
and Ohio called me back,
so I went to the ocean
a time once more.

I walked into the sea
and swam around
I stumbled back to the beach
and laid my head down.

I found it near impossible
to return back, after
a week such as this,
a week of pure bliss.

Ohio is home, yet
my heart is now here,
buried in the sand,
ever glowing and warm.

I walked into the sea,
so salty and sweet,
swam far from shore,
until home at last.

July storms

July storms

a white-wood porch

the heavy drizzle

heat receding from the air.

We sat with just enough cover

we still felt a mist

from sideways rain.

The kitchen window open,

dishes clinking.

Mom at work.

Dad at rest,

watching the storm.

This small town kid

sees the big storm.

How powerful.

Does he know someday

he’ll get an education.

What will they tell him?

Mom shouldn’t be in the kitchen.

Dad has white privilege.

Son has white privilege.

The innocence was a lie.

He won’t believe it,

but everyone else does.

He will sit on the porch again,

forget all he was told.

This is his life,

watching a storm.

Requiem

How times fluxes strangely
from the death of a loved one
until her interment.

Sobs wretch so forcefully
at the news,
that grief won't speak; it can't.

They days between are numb,
nothing real about them,
the worst kind of dream.

And then that loved one, you know
will walk through that door. No,
they are lowered slowly to rest.

Last, the dream is over,
a soul free,
but you have awaken.
And the pain is real.

Aeternam.

What a funny thing

Every second passes a tick faster,

but the change is so gradual it seems

 it almost makes no difference.

Sometimes you feel as if the past

 is within your reach, within your grasp.

  Then a birthday comes and goes,

      just as another Christmas passes.

You were sure this would be the year

that you would spend Christmas in Florida

 and relive that college trip.

The time got away though, it seems.

You have children now, but they are aging too,

   aging right out of your hands.

Time is running even from them

even in their youth.

How very busy you were raising them

making sure they had all the time in the world

when they were old enough,

you took them to Disney.

But the time came soon

       when they were too old to return.

You dropped your oldest at college,

and surely it was only the next day

  that she was getting married to that boy.

You remember him, don’t you? The one she met

  the day you dropped her at school.

It’s too late to matter now. Their children are born

     and all you can do is love every minute.

     Every smile. Every fall. Every laugh.

     Your husband is gone now. Your family is left.

But you’re ready. Time is up.

All you have left are memories of memories,

and love. Soft love.

Time has released you. Let go.

Time for a swim

Rose said a woman’s heart

is an ocean of secrets.

And let me tell you,

that little old lady,

with the big diamond,

was as true as eternity.

But something more,

a woman’s heart

is an ocean for a second reason;

the tide comes in and out,

but the motion rarely changes.

That rare day though,

when change is about,

and the passion,

the unknowable depth

you could just sink into-

suddenly changes,

you won't know why.

You never will.

The one thing though,

that you will know.

There is no changing her back,

at least not by your will,

so dive now,

headfirst into those depths

while the pull is in your favor,

for if you hesitate,

all may be lost.

Night

A poem I wrote recently as part of a short story; the formatting is off from the original:

Night

enter the empty ness

it’s quiet here still

there was so much sunshine yesterday

yesterday

something about that

yesterday

music. a melody. a simple, soft, sweet

I had the thought once that such a nice hymn could save me from these depths, should I ever fall down here again. It only makes sense then that the name of it has slipped my mind

yesterday, everything was grand

I still felt the worst part   maybe this it’s not even depression

there is feeling in that. depression. but none of that. stuck in a rut

no. that isn’t even right. what an insult. a rut could be escaped easily. a rut is laziness.

what of this. this quiet. there is a light coming from the hallway, but the silence kills it

i put a record on earlier  something from the twenties my grandma’s favorite

that was at my high so happy I danced around and around like being at one of those World War I deployment dances how grand

I can dance no one knows it men can’t dance well  well we’re not supposed to

aren’t we supposed to be goofs? the butt of the joke? they say misandry isn’t real.

they say a lot of things.

men have cycles too. there is no other way to explain it why I cry every third week

never for any real reason usually a memory does it      the worst part, it’s a happy one

and I think about what I had joy music no life isn’t terrible now

it’s great I think  I don’t know what I could want, would want different life was a constant struggle before the small things that’s gone

it just is now I hate that I need to fight for it

what a death it is to die of emptyness without a fight..no because lack of fight

can I make that my fight ? fighting for a fight? how strange.

I have to do something there is no real empty

can’t forget He is with me always.

Forever.