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James Inman Poem
Long slender tendril of mist in the morning
snakes slowly across the cool water, wandering,
endlessly,
searching, moving slowly, seemingly without purpose,
without direction, without destination.
It fades like a ghost into the shadows,
only to reappear when the filtered light winks anew
and its silver coat of crystalline breath shimmers in its
tears.
It reflects the light of the lonely world through which it passes,
like a wraith embarking on its unknowable quest, aimlessly
meandering,
the dark water, its home.
Only briefly does he touch the occasional soul he encounters
leaving cool moist kisses on smooth tender cheeks
searching for the warmth he knows he will never have,
the closeness he can never share.
He remembers.
Yes, each caress, each kindness.
The gentle whisper of the trees as they speak among themselves,
but they don't see him.
They don't feel him as he slowly slips past.
He watches as the fish jump to catch their morning meal of damsel flies,
oblivious to his presence.
He leaves a part of himself on each thing that he touches,
each blade of grass, every grain of sand, the sweet scented petals
that spring forth from the buds of the morning glory,
the lovers embracing on the shore.
How he envies each.
Eagerly, openly he gives, asking nothing in return.
Everything he has he gives, everything he is
without expectation he gives, yet,
no one sees him.
But a moment of mystery,
he soon becomes the fog that clouds the vision,
nothing more than a haze to look beyond.
No one shares,
no one to share.
Always alone.
The sun peeks expectantly over the bleeding horizon
sharing hints of the promise of a new dawn.
He awaits.
The light brightens as the shadows recede hiding like a child hides
shyly behind his mother.
Still he waits.
The shining smile of the sun beckons him as he feels the hint of its warm rays,
filling him.
Impatiently he reaches up into its waiting arms.
How he wishes to feel its caress.
How he wishes to hold it against him, to feel its radiant glow.
He twirls and spins like a whirlwind flying higher and higher
until the sun's smile begins to wane.
He knows he can never reach it.
Looking down again he sees himself fading,
the warmth he seeks the harbinger of his inevitable demise.
Such longing he has.
One last sad smile he offers,
a radiance that encompasses him.
Disappearing like his hope and desire
he watches life
as it awakens before him.
02/10/17
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2017
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James Inman Poem
water
murmurs softly,
through the cool of exhaled
breath, against the stones it whispers,
secrets
secrets,
gently spoken,
lonely unbeckoned words,
hidden deep within broken hearts,
aching
aching,
melting sorrow
pours viscous and endless,
caressing emotions that hide
within
within
this emptiness
sprouts the seed of desire,
where blooms love’s flower, bathed in sweet
water
04/01/2018
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2018
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James Inman Poem
Alone
For in the end it's just one soul that's passed.
Alone I'll lie in sod of greenest grass
to answer for the sins that I've amassed
at gates of gold I'll see if I may pass.
In to this world I entered all alone
in cold and dark and dank so old I grow,
on thoughts of younger days I p and moan
with little hope of changing what I know.
But, now as time reflects upon my skin,
the lines of life grow deep upon my face.
I feel the fear of darkness closing in
and of my soul it leaves but little trace.
So lay my corpse upon this bier stone cold.
The end of life so often is foretold.
Faith
The end of life so often is foretold
from storms of pained emotions we retreat.
When colors fade to black as we grow old
we search for gold from rainbows we can cheat.
Through lonely thoughts of our demise we trod,
yet try, we still, to save our lives from dust
With souls we've fore to sold we offer God
if but in his creation he would trust.
In promise lost we bide our time, we cope,
for what remains beyond our short lived lives.
The heaven of our father's faith's our hope,
inside of us is where this hope yet thrives.
Is our eternal faith enough to know,
when cold the winds of fate speak soft and low?
Moments
When cold the winds of fate speak soft and low
I hear its voice sing smooth in morning dew
and all of life on wings aloft will go
and fly on breeze of gentle pastel hue.
So sweet the taste of life will linger on
with rainbow flavors left upon the tongue,
like cream filled candy, but too soon it's gone
dissolved like so much piles of beetles' dung,
I know that life is precious as fine gems
reflecting each new moment that we live
with flowers' petals sweet upon their stems
our time in life is all we have to give.
As years in life pass slow like buds in cold
in warmth and light the blooms of time unfold.
Lies
In warmth and light the blooms of time unfold
to search through lost emotions is our goal.
In hope that we shall keep from growing old
we capture fading thoughts to keep us whole,
but when the final sunset has gone dark
the memories we cherished are all lost
and only ghostly photos leave the mark
of lives that pass like melting winter frost.
I can not bear the thought of you alone
when life has passed for me and I am gone.
What good of all the sweetness you have known
if lonely night awakes to lonely dawn.
Forever lies I've promised, you will see,
as petals fall, my life will cease to be.
Doubts
As petals fall my life will cease to be,
yet time goes on without a moment lost
and still the winds of fate breathe blustery
without remark or care or pennies cost.
What worth am I but in your care and love
or have I lived my life in selfish need.
I've tried so hard, for you, to rise above
but in your eyes do you just see my greed.
For am I who you wanted me to be,
the perfect man to share my life with you,
or did you wish for me to just be me
and give you love and promise to be true?
When end is near I know in you I'll dwell
in whispered songs of love my heart will quell.
Life
In whispered songs of love my heart will quell
so soft it beats when broken scars are healed
yet pain of loss for you I can't dispel
when left to dream of all that you've revealed.
The secret words of love that you have told
in moments sweet and pleasured touch exposed
to me are bits of life for me to hold
when fantasies of you have been reposed.
Now laid to rest inside my very soul,
I've loved you strong and deep for oh so long
for in my life you've played a leading roll.
Without you dear this life would be but wrong.
Though many words as yet I wish to tell
with tender tears to you, I say farewell.
Death
With tender tears to you, I say farewell,
my sweet, my life, my love, my need, my soul.
From you the one for whom my heart once fell,
this world of pain will now exact its toll
Too soon my corpse in death will lay stone cold
and tears from you will be my sole repose.
The troubadour whose words sing songs so bold,
alas, is left struck mute in death's last throes.
Will love's last flower fade without perfume,
to die unsmelled with human heart's adieu
its fragrant scent to linger in my tomb
or heaven sent, will stay and comfort you?
At end of life my love I hope you'll know,
when orchids bloom in beauty life's aglow.
Life's Fading Light
When orchids bloom in beauty life's aglow,
as time, with heavy brow, is nature planned,
too soon the beating heart begins to slow
when passion's ember burns the gentle hand.
With flames of love that flicker old and grey,
but moments gone, as youth filled questions asked,
the feelings lost to seasons never stay
for in the end it's just one soul that's passed.
The end of life so often is foretold
when cold the winds of fate speak soft to me.
In warmth and light the blooms of time unfold,
as petals fall, my life will cease to be.
In whispered songs of love my heart will quell,
with tender tears, to you, I say ...farewell.
04/19/16
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2016
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James Inman Poem
If I could,
...I'd stroll with you in a lovely Autumn wood
and gather every golden leaf to save them in a book
on each one we'd write our dreams and all our special thoughts
to read throughout our lifetime of the joys that we've partook.
If I could,
...I'd climb the highest mountain I can find
and reach into the heavens, to take down every star
I'd put them in a velvet box and keep them by my side
to light your darkest midnight in your search for who you are.
If I could,
...I'd find a stream, a gentle babbling brook,
and squirrel away each precious stone, each memory we've made,
each pebble strewn across your life to keep you warm and safe,
and gentle thoughts of you and I, will make you unafraid.
If I could,
...I'd ride a wave from Auckland to Peru
and capture every pearl I can, with love I will imbrue,
I'd weave them with a thread of gold and keep them in a bag
and write upon a golden tag, "This wisdom's just for you."
If I could,
...when time draws nigh and life is near its end,
and when your final tear drop begins to fill your eye
I'll lie myself beside you and hold you in my arms,
with tender touch, my soft warm lips will kiss your tear drop dry.
and...
If I could,
...lying there with bag and box and book
hand and hand in whispered hush, I promise that I'll try
to speak of simple pleasures, and moments that we've shared
of dreams of us together as eternity goes by.
08/14/16
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2016
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James Inman Poem
Youth
When orchids bloom in beauty life's aglow
to hold emotions locked in deep repose
in young desire and love warm thoughts will show.
Affection holds its ardor as it grows
to burn inside young hearts in evening tide.
In darkest night the heat will burn and rise
till naked, love's sweet flower blooms inside
and once again my love the past implies.
I'm not the dreaming soul you think you've known,
this willing need that cannot be denied,
is naught if not in love my feeling's grown,
as sad, the winds of change cast hearts aside.
Is not the pain of youth our last great stand
as time, with heavy brow, is nature planned?
Time
As time, with heavy brow, is nature planned,
to start the quest the instant life began.
It ticks each moment past with second hand
through infant life, to youth, and then to man.
The years go by as sequenced seasons pass
and miss each gentle touch of mothers breast.
As hair of grey like waves of grain amass,
we enter life's most cruel and crucial test.
How quick the mind in once unfettered thought
is now but clouds of muddled pother dust,
and as the time moves deep in minds hard fought,
the turning wheels soon slow to so much rust.
No thought for life and love can further grow.
Too soon the beating heart begins to slow.
Passion
Too soon the beating heart begins to slow
as passion spent prepares to take its toll,
and shooting stars burn down to subtle glow,
the mind's illusions dream of heart and soul.
Yet warmth and need can still ignite the flame
if sparks in coals of burning love remain.
Though slow the beats count down each ardent frame
our need for touch and fervor we retain.
For what is good without loves sweet caress
on lonely night or stormy sullen day,
to tightly hold each moment we possess
and guard the heart from anger and dismay.
The light of heaven's long goodbye's unplanned
when passion's ember burns the gentle hand.
Love
When passion's ember burns the gentle hand,
so, too, pure hearts can suffer in loves pain,
but lessons taught, no matter how well planned
can lead us down this broken path again.
Emotions find the cracks in crystal yen
then ebb and flow in watered essence's glow,
and grow the seeds of doubt to wonder when
through chinks in life's burst dam our love will flow.
But fill each crack with heart's warm trust and truth
and once again love's flower starts to bloom
like soft bright petals only found in youth,
we feel the sun burn past our time of gloom.
Through life the warmth of pain awaits each day
with flames of love that flicker old and grey.
Age
With flames of love that flicker old and grey
the hope of life's sweet nectar I once gave.
With you in pleasured touch we both would lay
and from my lonely heart my life you'd save.
As time moves on, though wisps of shadows fade,
like honey to the bees love yet tastes sweet
but tender touches lost in dark of shade
remain recalled reflections of conceit.
Let not the scourge of time erase the stain
of need for heated pleasure so ingrained
and loves mosaic tender heart's refrain
then end to end our love we'll share unchained.
As brown the leaves float free from trees unmasked.
but moments gone, as youth filled questions asked.
Sorrow
But moments gone, as youth filled questions asked,
no more of young loves wonder we request,
for in our soul the answers are unmasked
when stars align to find the lover's quest.
In length of day, like shadows, darkness grows
engulfing heaven's promise lost in fear,
and clasp strong hands of those we hold so close
from moistened cheeks we wipe a lonely tear.
No soft and tender touch upon the brow
when, tick, the clock calls out the lonesome hour,
can change the path of fate we follow now,
when life's sweet taste turns bitter, tart and sour.
As we in fervid dusk filled evening lay
the feelings lost to seasons never stay.
Feelings
The feelings lost to seasons never stay
and life grows cold as little sand remains.
But, o'er the heart the mind has little sway
when strong emotions bleed through burning veins.
Does anger, love or hate in time still lie,
awaiting passion's burning deep inside,
or ease in mellowed thoughts as days go by
to tarry in the place where senses hide?
The smile upon my face may turn in joy
though deep inside my heart my feelings burn
as eddies swirling lost in loves sad ploy
awaiting their frenetic fierce return.
Like comet's tail our hearts burn bright and fast
for in the end it's just one soul that's passed.
04/19/16
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2016
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James Inman Poem
"You really wanna know? Cause I'll tell ya if you really wanna know. You'll be thinkin' I'm crazy before I'm done, but I'll tell ya... ifn' you really wanna know."
The day started like any other, up before dawn, breakfast and fuel for the combine. Outa' the window I saw the sun rise above the horizon, no clouds in the sky,
waves of heat pulsing like slow heart beats above the drying wheat fields.
Already the fields are half bare. The twenty two acres out past the barn were harvested last week before the weather started to change and the 40 acres at the bottom of Rocky Point was finished just yesterday, hell'uv-a-place to plant wheat, what with all them rocks that broke three disc blades and the boulders that we had to plant around, too late to dynamite 'em by the time the rain stopped last spring. The plow got stuck in the muck for a whole day before we got the seeds in. But we did it and reaped a good return on our efforts that first year, thank God.
I remember that piece of land from when I was young. We used to have an old green barn out there where we kept the live stock. Paw said it wasn't much good for nothin' else, said you couldn't grow anything out there. I think he was just scared to. There'd always been rumors 'bout that place. Some folks said that Indians had buried their Chiefs under the big boulders, and prayed to their heathen gods up on the hill that looked over the valley, said that some day they was gonna come back and reclaim this land for themselves, at least that is, that sacred part below the hill.
Every morning around 6 o'clock me and Johnny would run out to that barn to feed the chickens and slop the hogs. He was always faster 'n me so he got to choose whatever he wanted to do. He liked slopping the pigs even though they smelled to high heaven. He liked ride'n on their backs. I'd laugh my head off when they threw him in the mud and he'd have to hide from Paw so he wouldn't know. Paw would wack him good if he found out. I can hear him now, "Boy I'll burn your hide if'n you don't keep off of them pigs. Your gonna break their backs. Your gonna wind up kill'n one of 'em, one of these days." Johnny would always be quick to reply, "But paw we're just gonna eat 'em anyways." Hard to believe I always like them hams so good at Easter after smell'n 'em for so many years.
"I know, I know, I'm git'n to it. Give me a minute. I wanna get it straight. It ain't easy to talk about and you weren't there."
I saw the clouds rollin' in long before I got out to the good fields on the other side of the creek. This was where our best grain was grown. We bought this land the year that Paw passed. I remember the tears Maw cryed when we got it. It'd been a dream Paw had for a long time. He was gonna put a road through it to the main highway so's to cut our drive to town by five miles. I've always felt bad that he never got to see it. I went on watchin' them clouds wonderin' if we might just have us a late fall twister brew'n. They was nasty look'n and it's been nasty hot for this time of year. I pulled the choke on the old combine and it coughed to a stop.
Didn't see any rain fall'n as I neared the creek from the Rocky Point side but it was get'n aweful dark, and the clouds were startin' to swirl and boil way up in the sky. As I watched I swear on my Paws grave that I saw a horse runnin' across the sky. It was like the ones you see when your layin' on your back in the grass on a hot summer day lookin' up at the sky and pickin' out shapes in the clouds,... but it wasn't. It was breathin' and glarin' at me with fiery demon eyes. Then out of the darkness I saw another shape. It was a face, all white with dark puffy round cheeks. It looked like the pictures of Santa Claus we used to take with the kids after the Thanks Givin' day parade downtown. He'd huff and he'd puff and his cheeks would billow out and all-a-sudden he'd let out this big bellow, "Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas," but when the face in the cloud bellowed no sound came out, just ice cold wind. It near 'bout froze me to my seat in that old combine. The windows glazed over with frost and my hand got stuck to the steerin' wheel for a second, pulled some skin off get'n em free. I turned on the headlights and wipers and as the Window cleared I could see ice twinkling like jewels on all of the wheat stalks. Down by the bridge I could see the weeds reflected in a thin layer of ice covering the water.
Then all Hell broke loose. Thunder so loud I couldn't think clear, and lightnin' everywhere striking every rock and boulder. Mist rose up after each hit like ghost risen' out of the grave. I forgot about the cold cause the storm froze me solid. A bolt of lightnin' hit the top of the combine and the thunder shook the cab so bad I hit my head on the back of the seat. For a few minutes I was in a daze but as my head cleared I could see fires all over Rocky Point. I didn't have time to do anything but start the engine of the combine and move it over the bridge to the next field so it wouldn't burn up too. I watched as all the grain left at Rocky Point burned to cinders. Funny thing is all the other fields around that one were OK. Not one never burned. It was like someone drew a line around the place, strangest thing. The weather guy on TV tried to explain it. What'd he call it? Oh, a micro... something, blow, burst, something like that. He didn't explain what I saw, but that don't matter no more. It's over and done. Lost all that good grain, though.
Had some scientist from the college down in Lawton come by and do some lookin'. They kept scratchin' their heads and mumblin', looked kinda befuddled to me. We talked and they said something about the soil ph was wrong and there seemed to be salt all through the dirt, maybe all the way down to the bedrock.
Well, All I know is I'm guessin' nothin'll ever grow in that field again. Can't rightly say for sure though, never plan on findn' out.
11/20
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2015
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James Inman Poem
A cat
has nine
lives, so, they say,
but a black cat lives forever,
its claws always sharp. Green
eyes that pierce the night like
magical green flames set afire
by witches' words of darkest
incantation. Spoken, softly on
moonless nights in archaic chants
known only to druidic priestesses in
songs of mesmeric power, silhouetted
against twinkling multi colored stars. Soft
silky fur that entices, dark as mid-night on
silent paws that tip toe without the
sound of forlorn echoes as they
glide, so very lightly, over sacred
ground. Feline notions always creating
resounding echoes in the twilight space between reality
and the world of alternate creation,
Phantoms of life. Is it real or just our lonely need to justify our own feeble existence.
I for one shall never know the secrets of the black
cat.
10/11/15
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2015
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James Inman Poem
ink through calamus
the poet feathers his art
with plumes of bird songs
8/13/2015
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2015
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James Inman Poem
Confusion,
you betrayed me.
Sadness,
you betrayed me.
Hurt,
you betrayed me.
Anger,
I trusted you.
07/12/15
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2015
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James Inman Poem
I watch the sun's smile gleam on the petal
as it drifts beneath the Dogwood tree
moving from sunlight to shadow
we once burned bright like the sun
shining on everyone
until heaven spoke
now you are gone
and my light
shines no
more
04/29/16
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2016
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