Category: Poetry

I was an early talker,

language just came easily to me.

I was always the best reader in my class

and I scored a four on the English AP.

I consume words with a thirst that knows no bounds;

It’s only natural that I would try my hand at verse,

I am enamored by the meter and the rhyming sounds;

It reminds me of sculpting, but with words.

Start with a block of pristine marble phrase

And chisel in notions and ideas

Polish your poem with each ensuing phase

Until you finally reveal something for the years.

You are free to craft as you deem fit,

Poetry presents in many flavors,

Why do I pursue what is writ?

Because the writ is something I savor.

There would not be another day like today

For another four long years

2030 seems so far away

But the passing of time I have ceased to fear.

And, you know what? You were right

The subway arrived just as I got to the station

And, walking, I encountered only green lights.

It was a fortuitous and appreciated vacation

From my usual strife, fight, and plight.

I’m not sure I put much stock in numbers having meaning

But, honestly, today went so well

That I might have to reconsider my esteeming

Of the numerical indicators that you tell.

When I was a young one, and youth my bride

I swam in the sea, afloat was my stride.

Bathéd in sunlight, and dewy with pride,

I n’er knew sadness, and never did cry.

The years passed like water and change took hold,

I turned grey and shy where I once was bold.

And sadness reignéd, my heart did turn cold

But this I kept inside, no one I told.

I war with the darkness

And fight being heartless

I fracture so am part-less

I struggle yet still, for this is my path,

To hold back the tears and tender the laugh.

When I was a young one, and youth my bride

I swam in the sea, afloat was my stride.

Bathéd in sunlight, and dewy with pride,

I n’er knew sadness, and never did cry.

The years passed like water and change took hold,

I turned grey and shy where I once was bold.

And sadness reignéd, my heart did turn cold

But this I kept inside, no one I told.

I struggle yet still, for this is my path,

To hold back the tears and tender the laugh.

Does death scare you?

It does not frighten me

I imagine that it is peaceful:

The finality of being free.

People who fear death invent religions

And then pray to some god

But it is simply dogma and superstition

Restrictions and fraud.

What if there is no point

In a universe so incomprehensibly vast

Save to savor pleasure

For however long it lasts?

Come and walk with me

To where I don’t yet know

But, side by side, stride matching stride

We will find some place to go.

It’s very late, so we must be quiet;

We’ll move like the mist off of the sea

In this manner we will preserve the silence

As we chart new territory.

Perhaps we will visit the cemetery,

Perhaps a wild and overgrown field,

Or maybe the lazy little river

To see what still waters reveal.

So, come! Walk with me

Put your hand in mine

There is no time like the present

And, at present, all we have is time.

I wanted to believe

That in you I might see

A fellow hunger inside

For all things art and poetry.

To this day, even,

Despite all that has passed,

I’d move to forgive you

Knowing you will never ask.

So I pen you this farewell:

“Lines To a Ghost”,

Of all the haunts I’ve had

You possessed me the most.

Now, exorcised and free,

I can finally see

That the poet worth Love

Was never you, but me.