Tag: free verse

Distillate

God is
hope,
nothing more,
pile all the
scriptures
on the floor,
absorb them
’till your brain
is sore,
the gift
remains
the same
regardless
the name
you claim
is true.
What lifts
me and you
is hope.
Hope
that the
pain will
pass,
hope
that the
bad
won’t last,
hope
that a
“bigger”
has our
back when
lack
looms
large
and loss
attacks.
Hope,
Hope . . .

Hope

Course Correction

The
immensity
of the the thing,
a profound
responsibility,
so much so
there comes a
propensity
to let it go,
a reflexive response to the
intensity
of the fear.
What would happen
if you grabbed hold
to steer?
Once grasped
you would become
ineffably
responsible for it all;
where you are,
where you’re going,
to what you set your hand
and what you’d rather be doing.
The
immensity
of the
responsibility
of choice.
Easier to blame,
to leave things the same,
to not bear the weight
for the result of the game.
There’s always next year,
right?
Maybe . . .
or it could end tonight.
Isn’t it time
to grab that wondrous mind,
to be the one choosing
your life’s design?
I think,
perhaps,
just maybe,
it IS.

Encounter

I saw
all
the galaxies
swirling as dust
in an
elephant’s eye,
or perhaps he
spied
them in me,
my own
reflection
dazzling his
perception
for a
breathtakingly
brief
moment –
an aberration
no doubt
that passed
without
comment.
The elephants
know, of course,
but have agreed
not to speak
of such
things,
for there are
none that
believe
save the moon
and her owls,
the hawks,
and the most
ancient of trees

Thief

The vanity
of the moon
is unbecoming,
luster stolen
from the sun,
her porcelain glow
not her own,
libidinous trickery
made to look
chaste
that she may
bask in the
unabashed smolder
of young lovers
casting smitten
glances skyward
from sea kissed
beaches

Divine Mystery

Oh the
great
weight
of our sin,
poor thin souls
bent
under the rules
we broke,
rules from
long dead
white men
who swore they knew God
better than me
and you
and what we
should and shouldn’t
do
while they watched
the money
and walked
oh
so
piously
and thousands
of years
along
we crawl
and cry
for redemption
from the
dreadful end
sworn by those
old
white
men
in our
spare
hours
between
loud
protestations
toward
subjection
and
oppression

Life

I fabricated
a true story,
one act of
uncertain
duration
and made
the decision
to play it out,
me, both
protagonist
and
antagonist
of a
tragicomedy,
thus far, anyway
but me,
being a
crude thespian
who missed
acting class
am a bit
half assed,
not at all
credible
in the role
of myself,
there’ll be
no Oscar
on my shelf
for this
unscripted
wandering
in and out
through
empty
rooms

Autumnal

Maybe . . .
maybe it all made sense
before the leaves
began to turn and the
breeze through
my bones
took on a chill.
Maybe I had it all
figured out –
but it escapes
me now,
now, when pain is
common
and hope hard
to conjure.
Where did I spend
that power?
At what hour
did the magic
fail?
Those youthful spells
of certainty
dapple
the ground
around
my feet,
remnants of a
seasonal shift,
evidence of
what I missed,
dying
wishes
waiting for the
rake.
In my mind’s eye
a lake,
the air
cool
the sky
fair
as I ache
for what I
left
there,
a thing without
name,
but I feel
its absence
just the
same

Sentenced

I’m a metaphor,
for what
I’m not sure
but the world knows,
the world decides
what I stand for
despite all the
books claiming
I am my own.
Just a metaphor,
a misleading door,
a bit of music
made to play
in other
people’s scores
and I like it
that way –
if there is
an “I” it
remains at peace,
unperturbed,
undiscovered,
even by me

A Day In The Life

What a day
what a day,
this brain
crawled away
to some dark
terrifying
place
without trace
of where
but it’s
sending back
dispatches
from the front,
no chance
of relaxing,
nerves
pacing,
racing
from some
danger
I can’t see

Salve

Shall I write you a poem?
Would the words be a breeze
that healed the broken leaves,
could they contain enough love
to ease your grief,
to suspend belief
and bring the bad
to its knees?
Better is no sound,
yield ground to time
for all the sharp edges
to be made round,
joy now captive
no longer bound