Poetry

Awake

Step by weary step Ι plodded along
To the dull beat of a monotonous song
Then in a flash
My day and night crashed
I took my first breath and awoke

A new spring in my step, feet as light as rain
Bouncing off the concrete in melodious refrain
I can walk upright
My smile beaming, bright
Standing tall under a gentle yoke

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Poetry

Night

I don’t think it’s my thing to rage
Against the dying of the light
When I have reached the final stage,
I know I won’t put up a fight

I’d rather let the night caress
This body I’ve worn thin
I’ll have a sip of wine, undress,
And gallantly sink in

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Poetry

When words fail

When words fail
The world seems to end
And life loses all meaning

For a while

When assurances are of no avail
When reason fails to comprehend
Life goes careening

For a mile

But up ahead the road is smooth and straight,
The world restored to its primeval state

And then you’ll smile

For a while

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Poetry

Twenty years

Twenty years ago
I was shooting for the stars
You pulled me down
Back to earth
And I grew roots
Became entwined with you

I then discovered
That beneath
Lies a place I never knew
A nurturing depth
Which makes one grow so tall
They reach the stars

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Poetry

I know

I know I shouldn’t love you
But I can’t help myself
Can’t bottle up my feelings
And put them on a shelf
Where they will dormant, quietly
Lie in their sweet repose
While I look on as silently
My life turns into prose

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Poetry

The tides of March

Drop after drop
Dripping and drooling
Spilling and spooling
Spirals and spires
Mud pits and mires
Cleaving and cloning
Drowning and droning
Hasting and heaving
Blessing, bereaving
Treading and trudging
Kneading and nudging

Then swiftly, a stop

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Poetry

A stillborn season

A stillborn season is but a season still
What does it matter if it lasts a year
Or ends after a week at will?

And one that flounders is but a season too
Why should we harshly judge its trembling gait
Or gripe that no grapes grew?

Rather than blame the blight and slur the season
I offer thanks for life and reason

Another night has come, another day
Another season dawns
Well, come what may

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Poetry

When I saw your brown leaves

When I saw your brown leaves
On the sidewalk this morning
I was refreshed
At this mark
Of a nascent fall

When I heard morning mist
Like a cat creeping slowly
I sprang to life
At the sound
Of its gentle footfall

When I got home
For the first time in days
I was able to closely
Consider my face

It had grown weary
From sun’s stolid heat
But through your grace
I still walk on my feet

And my face is grown milder
Like the days of the season

Perhaps for this, too,
There’s a reason

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