You once said you loved me
You said you once loved me
You said you loved me
You said you loved
You loved
You once loved
You once loved me
In my eyes, alive I see
A place I wish to be.
In my eyes, alive I see
A way I wish for me.
To be alive and to know
My friends as friends go,
To face my way and then
Conquer my fate again and again.
The house whispers
as I awaken
and a dream plays.
My loft breathes as I get up.
The block on the hill
still after the night’s
storm, and a story
plays in my head
remnants of a love
I once had. The cat
rumbling on my chest.
shares the moment.
…
Tires sing as I drive
along the river
as it takes in reflections
of sun. I’ve viewed
the scene many times.
I’m seeing it again.
Public Radio plays
a feature on psychology
and the triumphs and trials
of life, and I cry out
This is me. This is me.
‘’’
In a diner, dishes clink
and patrons laugh
while elderly cajole
their granddaughters
voices filled with promise
about the lives that lie
ahead.
…
I walk away
from old conversations
the pain felt
after someone left for good
and unanswered questions.
…
I stay true
to one thousand voices
in my head.
A new poem I seek.
Curiosity blooms where ego fades away,
A child's soft why dances, unafraid to stay.
To act too wise builds walls, thought locked in a cage,
Guarding old truths, fearing doubt's open stage.
But oh, to seem foolish, to let questions ignite,
Like stars born of wonder in the vastness of night.
An apple’s fall whispers, light bends, skies shift
Simple queries crack worlds, revealing the gift.
Shed the mask of knowing, embrace the unknown,
Ask the plain softly, let clarity hone.
Through stumbles and trials, where failures entwine,
Genius awakens when humble sparks shine.
Is it the arrow while in its flight?
That determines what is in its sight?
More likely the archer, with steady aim.
Shot not to kill, but to hurt and to maim.
At last, he’ll release his final revenge.
It’s not his choice, the flight to abate,
The target chosen as if by fate.
The arrow its damage, it will do.
The deed is done, the archer is through.
Now he can stop his honor less binge.
Revenge was not the ultimate cure,
For all the pain he had to endure.
A forgiveness path should have been taken,
A better path, be not mistaken.
Love enters in to act as a hinge.
Opening the door to understanding,
Knowledge enters and is expanding.
Two people beginning to comprehend,
Like a willow tree, they too can bend.
They begin to see hope on the fringe.
In death truth is told, the final sting.
The voice of justice begins to sing.
Those not able to make the right choice,
Understand their error from the voice.
All are harmed when the choice is revenge.
Sometimes it strikes me. How unaware you are.
The words you speak. The harm they inflict.
Or worse, the denial, as if truth could simply vanish.
But love…it is absent.
You call only to boast of your effort,
The concern that could keep us close is missing.
Absent from a heart whose depths you can’t reach.
And still…it hurts.
If even a sliver of hope remained to reach you.
If even a small chance existed,
I would tell you what I long for you to hear.
But hope…it is gone.
I am not doomed to bear the blame,
so your hands can be clean.
Yet, one day. Maybe. I’ll thank you.
Though…not today.
In time, I’ll be grateful you broke my spirit.
For it is through that, I found her.
Oh how I wish you could meet her.
She is…love.
And I love her. I do. Deeply.
The woman I have become.
The light inside her, how it shines.
She has…peace.
Seeing now what could have been yours.
I ache for your loss.
How can I hold my hurt when in the end,
It is you…who lost.
A complex map, it gradually unfolds,
Like glacier carving a valley,
Long and wide to my myopic eye,
Tied outside my imaginative mind,
Therein odds, for tomorrow is untold.
But now i look behind; a long narrow path,
Through multiple campus years; and still,
My architect is crafting a phenomenal end,
To enter this world of wishes and dreams,
The future owes; as long as we live.
A short siesta in the shade; dusk is nigh,
Spirals of thoughts like galaxies in the milky way,
Amidst the bright, some set with the sun,
Not to classify all; but it's repository of reality,
Ideal is known, the real exists and fake is fond.
You're the chief engineer to steer your soul,
The velocity I manoeuvre is a private matter,
Until I hit the last lap of this marathon,
And eye the end line; beyond the quad,
There my heart twinkles with the stars.
BIRTHING ANEW
Pregnant mind birthing;
Awareness words being born—
Loudly echoing:-
Let your eyes’ ears hear,
As your heart beats excitement—
Awareness streaming:-
Newborn awareness,
Ensures changes are coming;
And sameness going:-
Lonely leaf afloat
Along the muddy eddies
Swirling, stuck endlessly
I carried grief,
an ache deep in my chest,
each breath tight,
each step heavy,
my world closing
around the hurt that stayed.
I held that pain
in my hands,
turning it over and over
as if feeling it
kept me alive.
But time flows on
and even stones soften...
edges worn down
by patient currents.
One morning,
I set the stone aside.
Not because I forgot,
not because I excused,
but because I was tired
of dragging yesterday
into each tomorrow.
Forgiveness is not
a letting go meant only for me:
it is what saved my chest,
the breath that rebounded
the sky opening above.
Lightning in a bottle
Your lips on mine
The power of your sighs
Too busy catching
Stars
That fell from your eyes
To notice
The forked tongue kiss
I thought my words were stars, unshaken,
But they were only lamps in mist—
Too bright with pride, too quick to waken,
Too eager for a fleeting tryst.
Now softer rhythms touch the page,
They move like rivers, slow and deep,
A gentleness comes with quiet age,
And truth no longer stirs from sleep.
The vanity of sounding grand
Has slipped like ash between my hands,
I lean instead on earth and sky,
And write the way the roses die.
If I have grown, it is by loss—
By setting down the crown, the gloss,
Until my words are bare, yet whole,
Like light that falls and heals the soul.
Filmed by strangers,
a story doomed not to last.
Beauteous verse
wrapped in barbed wire—
each sonnet
a blade to the vein.
Eyes like jade—
not diamond,
but cut rock.
A granite heart.
Tar recedes
into stone.
Still, the boy covets
with hunger.
And the girl—
she has appetites too.
First love:
a pigtail yanked,
a giggle echoing through time.
Innocence dissolved
with each year gained.
But the eyes—
they never changed.
Breathe life and fire into love’s nest—
reignite the spark of youth,
peeking through years like iron curtains,
framing the fugitive selves
we left decimated.
I still see her—
not in dreams,
but in the hush between songs,
in the way a door closes softly
when no one is there.
She has appetites still.
And I—
I feed them
from a distance.
Let her starve for once.
We left home behind,
hearts full of hope,
dreams draped on backs,
dust dancing on shoes,
the city ahead —
calling us forward.
Tall towers took time,
but so did costs.
Bread was a bill,
air wasn’t free
Even sleep stung —
priced in pressure of thoughts.
Coins clattered too soon,
pockets pressed dry.
We chased light,
found cold steel.
Time ate dreams,
tangled and true.
We counted months,
but gained grief.
Rain mocked us,
so did noise.
Home hung farther,
each city night.
Plans pooled into prayers,
hope huddled, thin.
We worked wide,
waged just peanuts —
enough to stay stuck
in survival’s spin.
Still, we hold
that first fire's flicker.
Not lost but paused,
not failed just finding.
We left home to build home.
In a given context, when we isolate a situation from a viewpoint where we're standing, that we hold ourselves open to the possibility that there is a good beyond the good that we can perceive with our limited understanding.
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