Picture Poem: Melancholy Winter Night

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The Lonely Bench

 

Soft light bathes the blue dark with radiance

The landing of the snow echoing soundlessly 

A whisper wind sighs through the skeleton trees 

forgotten dreams walk the melancholy night

remembering leaves dancing in brighter days

but the night soon swallows the memory of the sun

as the moon fades to nothing

and left is the plastic light muted by feathered wishes

white kisses caressing the cold earth

 

A bench is there under the soft light

casting a shadow that fades to night

its face sprinkled with sky kisses and little girl wishes 

the rough surface scarred by love and hate and desparation

and memories of warmth as lovers lay entwined

or a beggar shivers and presses himself against the bench

hoping to capture the leftover warmth of the lovers embrace

the bench caught dancing leaves dying 

and showered in tears of joy and pain and rain

but now it is empty and forlorn

a faded silhouette being consumed by night

the faded M and R scratched on it’s surface covered

by a blanket of soft coolness and casual distance

 

The bench is alone

stark in the soft light of the winter night

Lonely and longing 

Sleeping and dreaming 

of sunny days when the wind danced with the leaves

But now the bench is alone

on a melancholy winter night

 

 

 

A Poem For Faith (My Sister)

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Sometimes life hits you hard, 

a sucker punch right to the heart

Sometimes the sun dims

and your nightmares come true

Sometimes your eyes are screaming

but no one can hear

Sometimes you look down and only

your steps mark the sand

Sometimes all you can do is cry

and hope for a better tomorrow

 

But remember you are never alone

 

Remember we only fall to remember

why standing is so sweet

Remember that all nightmares

must end when the sun come out

Remember who you are 

and what it is you believe

Remember that it is OK to cry

but never to give up hope

Remember your name

Remember above all else,

you are loved

Headphones (resubmit)

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The hands fly across the keyboard.

Or at least in his mind they fly,

In reality they stumble and lurch across

Like drunken bees trying to tap dance

As he tries to conjure something beautiful

As the beauty of art drums in his ears

In the form of a small device producing

The lives and struggles of others into his ears.

The beauty escapes him but he struggles on

His head rocking in tune to the beyond

That can not be captured in words

Alone in a room full of people as the smells

And sights meld into one harmonious whole

That echoes in the eerie silence of the music

As it engulfs his senses and he just wants

To ride it like a wave but the rocks of social

Protocol, the foundations of society are there

To prevent him from cutting loose and just moving

To the talent that whispers in his ear

And the seductive thrum of instruments as they

Match with the wavelength of his thoughts and

The music continues to play and the words fade

But the music remains and now he is being

Swept away and his fingers speed up

And the words escape from his silent mouth

That doesn’t move but transfers the information

To his fingers which start to do their elegant

Dance on the dance floor of the keyboard

The drunken bees now trained ballerinas

As they leap and flourish and the psyche transcending

Beauty that pours from the expression of

Self and others and all that is wrapped up

In the aloneness and the rapture of the

Heady orgasmic quality of the trance that

Is similar to the high achieved by drugs but simple

And clean and hard to put to words though a

Thousand and a thousand more monkey beat

On the typewriter of life and produce works

That  echo, surpass and elevate that of Shakespeare

But still that drumbeat of life that is captured by

The music that we play and listen

Runs and thrums in our bones and calms our souls

But can not be captured by our mind.

He returns and the trance ends and his fingers

Slow and his words start to trickle to a stop

And his moment ends and returns to life