Category: NO RHYME

Hey, you’re here.
I don’t come here often.
Because the poet in me cannot be prodded.
Cannot be cajoled.
Cannot be directed.
Cannot even be bribed.

She stays inert.
Skimming below the surface,
Just observing,
Sensing,
Teasing,
Lurking silently,
Listening stealthily.

And then when she decides to wake up
And show up
And show off,
She just spews out words,
An outpouring of thoughts,
Gut spill, and heart bursts.

Rhyme and reason optional.
Eschewing the usual rational
Being who prefers prose,
The language she understands
With structure she can control.

But poetry-
It’s a different animal.
Scary,
Undisciplined,
Raw,
Leaving her vulnerable.
Her insides exposed.
Her masks removed.

And then suddenly,
It just ceases,
Just like that.

It doesn’t take much
for a memory to resurface
a realization of loss to interrupt a moment
a longing to linger
an ache to assert itself

And in the middle of running to and fro
of idle thinking
or proactive doing

In a moment of solitude
or in the midst of a mob
in the act of living
in the business of breathing

An emotion gurgles
from a visceral place
Surprising
Shocking
Awaking a feeling indescribable

And I stifle a sob
retract a tear
suffocate a sigh
It only takes a moment
It doesn’t take much

Grasping for miracles

About my friend A, whose father has never told his other children that he has another daughter.

In a sea of white
You spot the speck of gray
In a world of rights
You watch the bit that’s wrong
Of the things I’ve done
You ask about the one I didn’t
What I want to do
You delight in telling me not to

Does it make you fulfilled
To notice the fault
Does it make you feel superior
To detect the errors
Do you find joy
In killing mine
Does reminding me of my flaws
Justify yours
Does clipping my wings
Free you from the pressure of your own flight
Does keeping me from shining
Excuse you from seeking your own light

You focus on the gap
You seek what’s missing
You fail to see what’s there
What’s good, what’s pleasing
You zoom in on the worst of me
And highlight the parts I want to hide
You uncover those
I need to deny

Yes, perfect I am not
And for praises I whore
They’re just cheap words
Yet you give so little
The economy of your flattery
Is the hunger of my soul

Would you have been a writer
Or a call center agent
Or somebody who insisted
On being neither of his parents

Would you have been creative
Like mom, a spaced out artist
Or would you have been street smart
Like dad, a pragmatist

Would you have been a rebellious teenager
Driving, moving under some bad influence
Or would you have been a good son
Blessed with perfectly good sense

You probably would be chubby
Not too big, not too tall
Maybe just a little bit athletic
Chances are, you could not sing at all

You would break my heart
Every time you get sick or hurt
You would break my face into a smile
With your charm, your mirth

Surely you would have dimples
And a laugh that can get others laughing too
Surely you’ll be assured
I would spend my life loving you

Would you mind it so much
If my tired, achy heart stops hoping
And my long-empty womb stops waiting
Because the years have not stopped me from aging

Son, I loved you before I could meet you
I wanted you long before I could bear children
And even now as hope wavers and desire tapers
I still ask if not now, then when

With envy I look
At young new lovers crazy in love
Naïve, clueless, fresh
Untouched by real pain
of real life
and unreal love
Unaware of hurts that lurk
and gash one’s heart
When one so loved
Stops loving back
or wavers and betrays

With jaded eyes I see
Silly love
Foolish hopes
Stupid smiles
Adoration unabashed
I smirk thinking someday
You’ll be hurt too
Beyond belief
Heart shattered
Illusions destroyed forever

With the wisdom of pain I gaze
At him who has
shattered my heart
Destroyed my illusions forever
Wavered, hurt, betrayed
And my old, badly bruised heart melts
My weathered face breaks into a stupid smile
Reflecting foolish hope and silly love
Loving beyond belief
Even after a history of forgiven hurts

The last time I was in love was only minutes ago
Not in the clueless fashion of ages ago
Jaded I guess I am not
Foolish I may be
Envious of youth I remain
But love recurs
Concurs
Forgives
Rarely forgets
But to the last, I will love

Gossamer wings
Showing things
Behind and underneath
Filtering light
Blurring colors
But not concealing
Just hinting
Revealing more than what they’re hiding
But where is the mayfly
Is it there
Is it real
Is it something
Of is it just what is behind it
Does it disappear to what is beneath
Gossamer wings flitting
Blending
Disappearing
Diminishing to nothing