Saturday, September 26, 2009

the house with dusty floorboards

In a house now deserted and devoid of life
there’s a man who can still hear
the silence around that cuts like a knife
into scars that left a tear.
And the ghost of a child stares back at him,
the child who lived here once.
with haunted eyes and a shameful grin,
now locked in eternal silence.
Yet as the spirit of that child
stared into his eyes,
he felt the soul, the emotions wild,
bow down to the spreading sunrise.
‘Til all that was left staring back at him
was the image of a grown man,
as the hunted past so dark and grim
left the seed of healing and ran.
Lifting a veil of questions and fears,
freeing the essence within,
giving him back the lost time of years,
without pain he could see where he’s been.
And he left the house with dusty floorboards,
heard the echoes fading away.
He was free at last to walk towards
a sunrise without debt to repay.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

tales of sorrow

can you hear the tales of sorrow
sung by the howling wind
hurtling through the trees toward
cliffs where they rescind
into the deafening silence locked
in a broken heart
can you feel the mournful wind
from this world depart

Sunday, September 20, 2009

the song in his heart

The accessories of his life,
chosen with care
and displayed with precision,
by him, the creator.
Chosen words uttered with confidence,
seemingly careless, they’re tossed to ears
willing to listen, willing to hear,
of that which he’s built,
what he’s achieved.
And he breathes in the envy,
the applause in their eyes,
which keeps him going
day after day, to do it again,
maintain the pretense
of this empty stature,
that’s taken up so many yesterdays.

Yet in moments unguarded,
shadows dart across those eyes,
unwelcome and unwanted.
The loss of a freedom
he’s taken to ignore,
that he’s managed to still,
but not forgotten.
The dreams of a child,
of a growing man,
when desires still fed his soul.

For now he’s torn
between the prestige
and the will of his own recklessness,
which only comes to him
when his head is at rest on his pillow
and his mind is free to lead him down roads,
where the doors are ajar and not closed
by his own restraint,
responsibilities weightless behind his shut eyes.

For as he stands, momentarily alone,
while the notes of the blues guitar
sings the song of his heart,
that takes him back to a simpler life,
to the start of his road
with his dream of fast cars,
the only luggage,
his beat-up guitar.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

child of the night

a child of the night, born to sorrow
ever longing for tomorrow
not ordained since shadows embrace
this golden orb's majestic grace
who sheds the tears of broken dreams
in the night on its moonbeams
to form a pearl as angels fly
down to you to keep you shy
of this lake of captured tears
so to you the joy adheres

Friday, September 11, 2009

55 - on the wings of fireflies

the moon through the curtains last night beckoned me
and urged me to go to the edge of the sea
to find my lost dreams on the sands where waves break
whisp’ring their secrets, removing heartbreak
and i feel my soul lift and float through the skies
towards those dunes on the wings of fireflies

every friday, compose a short story of 55 words - no more, no less. if you want to join in the fun and games and give it a your story and report to the boss G-Man!

Thursday, September 10, 2009

velvet mist

though her heart is gently weeping
her eyes do not shed a tear
for the love they shared in living
echoes whispers she can hear
softly soothing as a touch
of his fingers on her skin
while the velvet mist enshrouds
keeping their love locked within
dreams she dreams with open eyes
where their souls can reunite
in a land beyond forever
under sparkling starry night

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

is your life a dream?

Do you sometimes feel
that your life is just a dream?
A very real daydream,
like the one you used to have
as a kid lying under a tree
in the backyard of your parents house?

When you dreamt about your life,
married to a handsome stranger,
sharing naked kisses in the darkness
under the rays of the full moon.
In a house that is your own,
where there is no need to heed
the clock that’s silent on the wall.

And in this dream you go to work,
confident, exuding trust,
and with self-assurance move
around your scope of influence,
while your quiet energy transfers
to the people that you touch.

And you wander in a store
without timetable or goal,
and the basket starts to fill
with just wants, so whimsical.
And you stand at the cashier,
on your lips there plays a smile,
as your mind’s already home,
a soft nuzzling at your neck
prompted by delightful scent.

Then it’s time to go to school
to collect your ‘little one’,
and you see the young eyes watching,
a touch of envy in their eyes,
as they see the grown-up, free,
in the red car without roof.
And their eyes become unfocused,
as you fade from what they see,
and it’s you who now becomes
a little part of their daydream

Every day could be like this
without boredom, without dread,
if you look at it through eyes
of your dreams realized instead.

Friday, September 4, 2009

55 - whispers in the wind

hear the whispers in the wind
hear the promises they bring
sighed by flick’ring candlelight
carried through star-studded night
to your guardian angel’s ear
he who knows the way is clear
to bestow on you the wishes
sung by souls in rhythmic verses
on the canvas of your dreams
hear them now around you stream…

every friday, compose a short story of 55 words - no more, no less. if you want to join in the fun and games and give it a your story and report to the boss G-Man!

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

the wishes of the gods

In the dark hours of the night
you will find a silver ray,
reaching out to hold you tight
as it’s trying to convey,
through the whispers of the waves
and the breeze between the trees,
words that echo from the graves
with the wisdoms that you frees.

Lie back gently in the arms
of the gods, in mosses green,
as they shield from that which harms,
lead you to the paths pristine,
in a cloud of misty wishes
which absorbs into your skin,
as they take the heavy crosses,
with the dawn comes the begin.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

on air windblown

through shimmering clouds
she hears a whisper
a murmur calling her name
that reaches down
with soft white rays
brushes her skin and lays claim
to the chambers
of her heart
his essence rises through
the misty tendrils
caressing her soul
affirming his love as dew
touches her cheeks
with his tears
from a world that’s not her own
devotion endures
their love on air windblown