Perhaps I'll Know Your Love
Perhaps the light of day comes with a golden ray,
to push the heavy shadows to the side...
Just let me come on home.
Let me finally unload this pain.
Perhaps you'll look past these scars...
and the tears I try so hard to hide,
emotions of a weary soul
hurting deep inside.
Perhaps a life will have love,
not pretending to be...
Every word rolls off the tongue
to carry me, or pull me to your side.
Perhaps someday these pieces will mend,
with reaching arms that can hold
this fragile love that we know.
Perhaps someday my smile no longer fades,
or falls exhausted by my side...
screaming I'm alright.
Perhaps I write these words of love,
praying that you will finally see
the love I've held for you...
Perhaps, someday, I won't pretend to be someone you knew.
Perhaps, someday, you'll love me too.
Debra
Late Summer
PoetrySoup Weekly Challenge
Theme: Memory
Emotion: Hope
Color: Gold
Season: Late Summer
Form: Free Verse
Object: Lantern
Verb: Remember
As the snow melts on the mountain
And a trickle began to fill the fountain
Filling the drained spring below
Then the river begins to flow
Snow on the mountain
A fire in the hearth
Snow on the mountain
Losing you broke my heart
I remember when our love was young
Sometimes the lights would go out
We'd light the lantern to see how to walk
But never has it snowed this early before
That snow covered the gold poplar
All the leaves turned brown and fell
This shouldn't happen in late summer
But on this we couldn't dwell
Snow on the mountain
A fire in the hearth
Snow on the mountain
Losing you broke my heart
Your hair was thin and white
Your hearing had disappeared
But you kept going and going
Until your health disappeared
Snow on the mountain
A fire in the hearth
Snow on the mountain
Losing you broke my heart
I know we'll meet again my love
Jesus is waiting for me to come home
That will be a great reunion
Happiness we'll all share
She greets us with a smile,
won't hesitate to go the extra mile.
She always has a kind word,
as genuine as a songbird.
No one would ever know
she lost her son two weeks ago.
Wish you had someone better,
So dreams wouldn't shatter —
Of holding your desired moon,
I hope I leave your life soon.
So when I leave, don't call it loss,
Call it the tide that had to cross —
I hope I leave your life soon,
And you still get to keep the moon.
My home, lull amidst balm, solace in rural dwelling,
escape from rampant load and skewed burden in towns,
close knit family loiter with passions swelling,
wistful hindsights swoon oe’r sumptuous tree top crowns,
I extol mint leaf purlieus, tranquil garland phase,
in course sentient, where friction, discord, worry,
is banished at the whiff of an ambrosial haze,
prismatic hues, those scenic views soothe when in a hurry,
seconds taciturn as the peep day sunrise looms,
to linger in silence yet caress the spring omen,
purple clouds tint cocooning garden blooms,
In artic winter, tranquil spot engulfs twin snowmen,
time counts for little when under bright shelter’s spell,
relief from futile rigours found behind green hedge,
sweet chirp from red crest bird cordons off this shell,
mine to cling to and seek refuge when life is on edge,
fresh fruit one munches in orchard dribbles down chin,
to pluck mushy berries from sprawling brambles,
and inhale scented gust with a surreal grin,
heaven in a haven, sweet home from madcap scrambles
In the shadows of the night, I dare to dream,
to be your number one, Your love supreme.
However our reality is a different tale,
You hate me, and I’m left with a heart pierced with a nail
In your eyes, I’m just a name,
a person you want to burn in flames.
I’m the ghost that haunts ur space,
the one you wish you could erase.
In the shadows, I’ll forever stay,
loving you silently, day by day.
My heart beats for you, my soul feels the pain,
of loving someone who will never love me the same.
You’re the sun, I’m the moon,
two celestial bodies, forever out of tune.
But still I dream of you, of what could never be,
a love that’s doomed from the start, yet still it’s all I see.
I wish to be ur number one, ur guiding light
but you hate me and I’m left in endless night.
I’ll hold on to the hope, that one day you’ll see,
the love I have for u, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll love me.
No matter how many tears I cry
They'll never be enough
'Cause the days without you were splendidly tough.
It hurts my heart to the core
I can't wear that surface smile anymore
'Cause my wounds are still sore.
Till this day I admire you
-Like a ship to its crew.
Money laughs in the daylight,
Showing off like it owns the
Block.
Every dollar retains a joke
And a bruise.
Quick to bless, quicker to
Bite,
It shifts moods like weather
On a bad street.
But after hours it cries quietly
Remembering every soul it eluded.
This small god with moods
Keeps moving-
Blessing, breaking never
Staring long.
A name can feel heavy
Before you ever mention it.
Some names carry rooms
You never meant to dwell in.
A name can imitate until you
Forget your own voice.
Some lock behind you like a
Door you didn't restrict.
Some names carry rooms
You never meant to live in.
And still, you wear them
Because someone handed
Them to you.
Some lock trailing you like a
Door you didn't close.
One day you discern the metal
Shift.
And still, you wear them
Because someone handed
Them to you.
One day you hear the metal
Shift.
One day you step out
Leaving the cage open
Behind you.
Rough white water dreams in a river rush,
the journey can toss you and get bumpy.
Thrown off course forced to pivot suddenly,
that is fate’s way of asking you to push.
Now that you’re up with a kick in the tush,
your path can be seen even more clearly.
Rough white water,
adrenaline causes hot cheeks to flush.
You’ve got a vision of what’s meant to be
and the desire to pursue it fiercely.
Execution brings a call to ambush
rough white water.
Petrichor is a complete vernal scent,
an ache so feral it’s filled with lightning.
Waiting for new plans to make a descent
the past seems to leave the future biting.
Plans slowly unfurl and then start to run,
a hit to the soul spiking bone marrow.
With no need to outsource to anyone,
you’re in control of your own tomorrow.
That urge to defenestrate the outgrown,
when you impel it’s a breath of fresh air.
Nervously investing in the unknown
feels a bit like that initial jump scare.
Choking on such cloying efflorescence
vestige broke in exposing my pretense.
I walk the halls of ghosts.
Of all who came before.
The memories of the foundry floor
Reverberate in my mind.
I remember silhouettes of friends;
See them smiling there.
I see toolbags, slung up on their backs.
Hear their crazy laughs.
Their grunts of strain. Their eyes in pain. As bolts found home.
As my mind wanders these halls, still entrenched in work,
Thoughts loop large to previous days.
Wishing for days gone by—to reach and grab a piece.
Stuck in the here and now—more in back than in front.
Training new by old. Futures to reveal.
Fresh hands to shake, and smiles to share...
Toolbags of their own.
Perhaps a sign of times, as future comes and goes.
Perhaps a sentimental fool in hallways, I suppose.
- Debra
A DEDICATION TO MY GODSON CARLETON
What can I say, when I received news that you
had gone to be with our Lord.
I called you, but you didn’t respond.
I asked our Lord many times to make a change
in your life, but I didn’t expect this.
My only hope was that I was a good influence
in your life, and that you felt you could depend on me.
I hate to see you go this way, but it seems
to have been the only
choice, if you can call it a choice.
I will miss you terribly.
So long, my dear Carleton.
I will always love you.
You came like fog in my life
Building up hopes, surrounding me like haze.
For which I head over heels for your obscuration
In the end you melted into mist leaving me in daze.
I notice the things everyone else overlooks
while they are busy trying to grab content.
Hindered by a host of hot button hooks
it’s the details that memorex sentiment.
Phantom scent you will not taste again
keeps coming back until you write it out.
A fierce ache waits to transform your pen.
Trace it behind your eyes with pink neon
so it is crystal clear when the day is done.
Catching the line that was slightly jagged
changed that repro into a masterpiece.
The flash of brilliance my eyes snagged
served only to let the zeitgeist increase.
All five of my senses remain on high alert,
it’s hard to put into words a poet’s intuition.
Fantasy and reality inspire when they flirt.
Something inconsequential as you walk by
is that writer’s high in such short supply.
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