Oh no, I’ve fallen in love again
Why does this always happen to me?
Love is no bigger than a small apple
It reflects in the eye but beats in the chest.
What am I falling out of love with?
I can’t carry every apple I see.
A single pill rests on the counter--
quiet, small, almost polite.
I told myself it would stay that way.
But days grew thinner,
hours frayed at the edges
and the quiet promise began to hiss.
Friends laughed. I nodded.
My reflection wavered in the glass,
someone familiar yet gone.
The pull was slow - like water eroding stone,
soft at first, then urgent, unstoppable.
I chased the calm it offered,
unmindful of the shadows it left behind,
the nights pulsing with my heartbeat,
the mornings hollowed and quiet.
One day, I reached for air instead...
for the sharp taste of morning,
for voices that held me without judgment,
for a hand that said;
“You are not this. You are still you.”
Healing does not arrive in a flare.
It creeps softly, day by day
teaching the heart to see once more,
to taste the colors that were dimmed,
to carry the weight of the world
without letting it break the soul.
My heart reflects the silver of the moon;
your golden love, it bathes my dreamy swoon.
I had blood on my face. Dirty. Gracious. And… disgusting. Blood dripping on my face. Didn’t know it. It just smelled bad.
When I looked at my face in the mirror, I thought… that the mirror had the blood.
I kept cleaning it. Cleaning it. Rubbing it. With my arms. With my palms. With my fingertips.
At the fatigue, I could get in my fingertips until that blood dripped from my face onto the mirror.
And now I understand that I had a problem. Who caused problems on both me and the mirror.
Now I can clean the blood on my face. But what about the mirror?
looking under
flowing waters of truth
finding my own
winter reflection in a glass of wine -
memories of auld lang syne
The first act sets the scene
Romantic and serene
In the second act it is revealed
The conflict there that was concealed
Count to three, it's there to see
The act that brings finality...
The resolution or... dissolution
There's a solution for ev'rything
Sometimes it's sweet, sometimes it stings
Sometimes it's bitter, sometimes sweet
But that's what makes the play complete
Though we leave the stage it won't leave us
And like the note left in the dust
No longer there for all to see
It's now etched in our memory
It goes the way that all things go
Coming to rest down in your soul
Some you recall while some grow small
But down there you will find them all
Or... one day when you're not looking
They'll find you
They'll find you, that's how it's played
The game of life, the bed you've made
Ev'ry wrinkle ev'ry speck
Upon your soul it will reflect
There for all the world to see
The way you played is the way you'll be
Remembered as the curtain falls
As long as anyone recalls
I picked up eclipse glasses, crumpled on the street
It caused the pause reflection brings when unlike minds should meet
With no regard we oft discard the fashion of the day
No cosmologic mirror, we hasten on our way
Same time the rhyme that is the pond, ornithologic splendor
Graced the sky there in my eye, sweet nature as its sender
Earlier a chance encounter prompted thoughts of scale
As I dodged a mounted fender fellow and lived to tell the tale
Perhaps because the Universe expands beyond our ken
We can't escape the breakneck pace that plagues the mass of men
I'm thankful now, at this remove, I did not join the glass
And stopped to think… and it's the key… to not let this thought pass
A man keeps planting flowers in a place no one visits.
It's not that the place is heavily guarded so no one can enter.
Or that the place is so complex, like love, many people are afraid to give it a chance.
It's not like that.
It is just an easy path to cross over to see that place where a man keeps planting flowers.
Expressionally, he loves what he’s doing.
At no point does he need someone who would appreciate him for his work.
He needs no one who would clap for him,
or criticize him, saying he doesn’t do it right and should work harder.
It's not like that.
No living breath has ever even touched the idea of planting flowers in a place no one visits.
But that man got it on his own.
He loves what he’s doing — but no one knows why.
And as the narrator,
I am also scared to see that place.
My best friend walks beside my soul,
Not always seen, but always whole.
We talk in ways the world won’t hear,
In jokes and jabs and thoughts sincere.
We’re echoes in a common shell,
Two minds where one truth loves to dwell.
We share the heat of daily light,
And wrap each other through the night.
55 seconds still, no sound,
Yet louder peace is rarely found.
In silence, storms begin to slow,
We trade our highs, confess our low.
One day, the world will understand,
How friendship doesn’t need a hand.
Just rigorous, kind observation
A glance, a pause, a revelation.
I met him once not far, not wide,
But looking from the other side.
A mirror framed our secret blend
Myself, and still—my truest friend.
Mirrors stand sentinel in homes,
African homes, where they're often still,
unused, like dining tables turned decoration,
gathering dust, devoid of purpose.
At night, when men slumber, the shadows stir,
underworld spirits manifest, their forms shifting,
observant, operative, unseen by mortal eyes,
yet their presence felt, a whispered rumor.
Ghommid spirits lurk, invisible, yet real,
their existence a mystery, a hidden truth.
Some abhor mirrors, standing tall,
reflecting their horrors, infuriating them.
Their rage unleashes chaos, destruction's path,
frustration and setbacks, a trail of broken glass.
The mirror's gaze, a provocative act,
unleashing fury, a maelstrom of malevolent force.
To avoid conflict with powers beyond our sight,
cover the mirror, shroud it in darkness,
silence its reflective surface, still its gaze,
lest the metaphysical realm exact its toll.
count grains
fought won
_________________
Your anonymous blog
To my face you are kindness itself:
cheerful, always upbeat,
but in your anonymous blog
you rip me apart.
You press your thumb and forefinger on each side,
hold, pull and rend,
and rupture my very innards.
You focus on me,
my life, my words, my actions and my body
like you are a Celestron Telescope
searching for every single crater and irregularity.
With an Ultima Barlow lens
and your Leica M9 18MP
You grab each natural image
and then rearrange reality with
your precious, perversely persuasive, periscopic Photoshop technique.
poetic liberty has leased you a license to assassinate,
humiliate,
decimate,
invalidate,
severely lambaste,
and mockingly castrate
everything that I identify as me.
literary freedom allows you to liberally fabricate,
mutilate,
denigrate,
incriminate,
scathingly castigate,
and maliciously urinate
on what others think of me.
To my face you are kind beyond selflessness,
but on your online beat,
your anonymous malevolence
sets you apart
from all the others
that have ever wanted
to write me up,
put me down,
and publish me out.
— Zumwalt (2011) (used by permission from zumpoems.com)
In the world of control..The scheme goes like
This..theres always a 'HIGHLIGHT' on what
You might miss? What might be taken.? What
You can save.? In 2020 the theme was really
Hard played.' You might loose your life? Or
Your standing with friends.' It was first to the
Lifeboats ' Do you remember 'the trends?'
What might you loose? Well some took a
Chance.' First we lost all the shallow folk yet
Others stood fast.' We lost out on the loans
That must be paid back.' On the various poisons, yet have no sense of a lack.' We lost
Fear of some un-known; and invisible things?
Some accepted Jesus, and lost all the old sin,
Death got lost also.' And looking around! Considering all
Of the loosing, I'm amazed at what was found.!!
TO BEING IN MIND-BLOWING AWARENESS
Rocking and rolling,
Aping hedges in the winds:
Blowing, yet rooted:
Though moving, there’s no progress;
Such mind-blowing awareness:-
Such mockery!
Moving, but going nowhere:
Mind and body stunned:-
In aiding progress, one must
Always seek divine guidance:-
Moving is one thing,
Progressing is another;
With a focused mind,
Seek our God’s navigation:
Progressing in assurance:-
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