Best Sustained Poems
Dedicated to Lorie Jean, Though She'll Never Know
Asleep, I cannot escape my love’s depth for you.
Awake, I cannot deny my loathing towards you.
Confusion and missing settle-stay in my pain’s cliché.
Thoughts of you weigh down my moments every day.
Long is the time I have spilled grief yet failed its release,
but dreams weave my joy strung to net grief’s relief.
Asleep, I see us blend as we did easily back then.
As before, we pool play, float happily and swim.
In sunshine, we decide our age will be just ten
as laughter splashes our feel with child-like appeal.
In dreams, we cook, play cards, take road trips,
critique movies, compete to title older song hits.
Our laughter soars until you ‘ink’, and then we
laugh more, stopping only when laugh sore.
Secrets from one’s lips merit the other’s ears
to heart-hear and hold all told in love-lined folds.
My feet twitch as I dream-walk to your home
and street-met you dream-walking to my own.
In dreams I see all I reality-miss; your face,
voice, moods, humor and unique attitudes.
I live our togetherness, our special groove,
in cherished dream scenes of us as still a two.
As soon as I first wake, reality steals my happy,
smashes the contentment dreams grant me
while missing aches swirl colors of lonely.
I ponder whether while in your own slumber,
you also dream plunder from our past splendor
for assistance with your friend-grief ender.
I wonder, soaring through the sky,
why some despair and life forsake.
For from my vantage way up high,
the choice made clear which path to take.
I cannot say ’twas always so.
Far down, among the sage and gorse,
the glint of gold caused me to slow,
and lose my way, to my remorse.
But winter came, cold, harsh and bleak,
and brought grand vistas into view.
I, from that vale, glimpsed shining peaks,
and wonders unexplained ensued.
A warm wind blew beneath my wing,
and carried me to dizzy heights.
A soaring heart is one that sings,
sustained by currents of delight.
It’s true the way is narrow here;
some find they can’t abide, it seems.
Content, my understanding’s clear:
my freedom’s found within these streams.
lone tree of life stands
facing storms in light that streams
from God's piece of sky
For Raul Moreno's "Summer Tempest" contest
sustained in the crack
of the dry, hot, hard concrete....
resilient zinnia
Each verbal success
leads to higher new ground
Where the words beck and call
with a heavenly sound
The trail to my future
fades into my past
As the gift they inspire
—my present to last
(Grantham New Hampshire: March, 2015)