admiration
18 May 2014
Mirror reflection’s too superficial,
except no one understands if I try to explain
my resemblance to Narcissus runs much deeper.
Yearning, indeed, love of self, should never get lost in arrogance,
sublime as that temptation might be.
Endearment, to one’s self not another,
layers of delusion sprinkled with flecks of truth,
fulfills a deep-seated need,
a need I so often
never learn to satisfy within myself.
Damn that need in all of its complexity!
I seek only the admiration of myself.
if you could only see
29 March 2014
It wasn’t something I would have noticed.
Fortunately, I had someone like you.
You noticed the least noticeable part
of everything – one of your many charms.
Until I caught on, I never learned to
care about each little thing you tried to
open me up to seeing, to truly
understanding. It was as if you could
listen to something no one else could hear.
Drawn by a soul that saw something in the
ordinary, when no one else saw anything at all,
never ceased to amaze me, inspire me.
Learning to see with my soul, the one gift
you bestowed so freely before you left …
sometimes it’s the least
extraordinary that
eludes us the most.
animal
26 August 2013
animal
all evidence to the contrary proves your fear
no one admits the existence of the beast within
I have seen its reflection behind my own eyes
mostly in uncertain glimpses in hallway mirrors
at times, it’s as if I feel guilty of some sin
like I should remember what I seek to disguise.
a few nightmarish images haunt restless dreams
nothing helps but who could I turn to anyway?
I cannot tell anyone how I feel inside,
mad they’d say, and laugh at how insane it all seems
as if ignoring it will make it go away
lock me up, for if you don’t, someone else will die.
privy
11 August 2013
privy
(written for The Sunday Whirl # 121)
i
within,
pebbles tossed into a still pond
scatter dragonflies, that race about
in stark contrast to the gentle
ripples spreading outward,
like breathing. I strain to illuminate
more than their busyness, but
I wallow in distraction.
ii
I’ve lost the incentive,
grown weary of the race.
Mindfulness requires discipline,
an unbroken circle, always returning
to illuminate darker corners,
places I avoid, afraid
I’ll scatter shadows, or worse,
discover the concrete
is still wet, unhardened.
iii
I wish I could just flip a switch,
rather than striking flint and steel,
hoping for a spark to coax and enflame.
Warmth is both a need and
my incentive, that endless circle,
the incessant strain between
necessity and desire.
A practiced half hitch knot,
tied to illuminate the needfulness
of connection, one thing to another.
But, sometimes, it is too much —
my head is pounding.
iv
pounding the pavement
concrete jungle imprisons
wallow in obscurity
a face in the crowd,
nothing more and nothing less,
carried along to nowhere.
v
persevering, little victories encourage me
onward. It’s never really one failure after another I
understand. But, giving myself credit for anything
needs a little work. I rarely see anything but negatives,
discount the positive, even when it is valid and true.
I am vigilant though, I keep trying. It’s a secret work,
no one is privy to what goes on inside of me But, then I.
guess that is how it is meant to be.
The Challenge
22 July 2013
The Challenge
Assuming for the moment, I accept your challenge, may I
suppose I can define my own parameters? If I’m going to try
appearing to be clever, I should at least be allowed my own
determination as to what I either can or cannot condone.
Probably, the best place to begin, would be to simply ask,
scared as I might be to even attempt such a task,
can I do this? And if I think I can, what exactly do I write?
I’ll probably overthink it, trying to perfect it, keep it tight.
Dismey didn’t give me much to really work with here,
if Mary Poppins were my co-author, I’d have less to fear.
From nonsense that would make any poet proud,
barely anything would rhyme and be allowed.
Ugly made-up words by me might sound hilarious,
’til my rhyming capabilities proved precarious.
All in all. I’m having serious second thoughts
Listen, it’s not too late to just call the whole thing off?
Essentially, I’ve bit off way more than I can chew,
(stop laughing at me, it’s not a nice thing to do!)
Winning really isn’t everything you know? At least I tried
accepting your challenge, harming nothing but my pride.
Certainly it’s a good thing it was just a friendly dare,
extenuating circumstances proved too muich for me to bear.
Opportunities for mind-boggling puzzles such as this
rise only occasionally, and never should be missed.
Failure sometimes may be good for the Ego, and the soul,
always winning surely can never be one’s goal
since perfection’s unattainable, there’s a balance to be learned.
Admitting surrender isn’t always a weakness I’ve discerned.
So permit me to bow out gracefully and say,
school’s out, I’ve had enough lessons for one day.
Finishing your challenge would have put you in your place,
however, one also must sometimes beg for mercy and grace.
Just in case you’re gloating, and you’re sure you’ve won,
use each second letter in each line … this challenge is done.
mystical
17 July 2013
mystical
mythology begins when one moves beyond the empirical,
yearning for something more, and attributing more than
should be seen or interpreted or gleaned as having some
truth to it that may or may not even be true, let alone
in fact, spiritual or simply mundane and more than a little
cerebral, as in just in your head. That’s harsh, but sometimes
anyone can see what they want to see, seek transcendance,
look for the mystical in anything at all and find it even … sometimes.
mystery
15 July 2013
mystery
Monogrammed stares, tossed nonchalantly on
yesterday’s dusty crossroads, and still I’m lost,
seeking bitter leftovers. What lies beyond the stars,
twinkling like the eyes of the first girl I kissed?
Enigmatic snippets play perpetually, and I
recoil from the mostly harmless snake nonetheless.
Younger fools can travel the desert, I don’t want to know.
Sonnet XVII
24 March 2013
Sonnet XVII
Responding to her call as she insists,
undulating like water-colored rain,
deliciously kaleidoscopic mist
encircles in safety, a hidden glade.
Promiscuous voices still taunt and tease,
entreating me to join their spiral dance.
Offered pleasures, inhibition’s release,
perfect love, perfect trust, I am entranced.
Lulled to listen to songs I can’t resist,
evening’s end, I concede, comes all too soon.
Surrendering once to Temptation’s kiss,
until next time, underneath a full moon.
Close the circle, as we share cakes and wine,
keep me in your heart, as you are in mine.
The Cure
15 March 2013
The Cure
Inside a darkened room, she mopes, alone with her thoughts,
trying to chastise herself for allowing it to happen once again.
She knew, from the first moment, but she couldn’t help it,
from the instant their eyes connected and he flashed that shy grin,
revealing more than any stuttering, half-confident pick-up line ever could,
instinct told her she was practicing without a net, again!
"Do you think you will ever learn?" she murmured to herself,
almost in tears, feeling overwhelmed, out of control, and
yet, knowing she could blame no one but herself.
If onlys and whys bounced around inside of her head.
Maybe she was too eager, too desperate for attention?
It would not surprise her if someone told her that.
No one would of course, at least not to her face!
Last time she met someone and fell, hard, love at first sight,
only the whispered truth finally broke the spell.
Voices are often patient, telling us over and over what we
eventually can no longer ignore — TGIF!
