The restless waves
leave things on the strand,
and take them too.

I remember all you took with you.
It washed over me, and I felt the air
searching for my breath.

I used to think of you as the foaming surf
crashing on the shore, and all I imagined
we’d find there in the sand.

“I love that I get to love someone like you, regardless of whether or not that love is returned or felt to the same extent, the very ability that I have to love you as I do is enough to get me up on bad days, and it’s nearly enough for me to thank a god I don’t believe in”

Silently the snow flakes fall
from far above the poplars' crown
as I walk this wooded path
a mile or so outside of town.

they slowly cover up the duff
and the sleeves of my old coat
as they join with their brethren
and thus end their final float.

I pause to take everything in
for snow round here is a rare thing
even one which is this thin
so I've come to leave my footprints here.

I told myself it wasn’t that bad
Others had suffered more,
Others had drowned in deeper waters—
I was fine.

So I buried my past
beneath the garden.
Now the roses
won’t stop screaming.

Their thorns caught the memories,
petals split with grief.
They bleed colors
of pain I never named.

Deafening and agonizing—
The sounds they cried.
Forcing the echo of terror
into my bones.

With every cry for help,
every beg for relief,
I feel my heart
caught in my throat.

The floorboards creak, and there's moans
shifting shadows on the walls.
The ghost upstairs is at it again,
he roams the darkened halls!

Upon my word, I do declare
I've seen him a time or two
in shadows deep, there he creeps,
before revealing himself to you.

So, listen close, feel afraid,
I'll warn you to watch out.
He sneaks around, pushes you
so that you give out a shout.

A lump that's forming,
Thoughts buzz around my mind.
And regrets seep through,
In malaise that sadly binds.

That last coffee I missed,
Many words I couldn't say.
In the sudden passing,
As God took his soul, that day.

I'm left with many memories,
A host of words he spoke.
And as I bid farewell,
This lump won't see me choke.

Though dressed in darkness,
Much joy is in my heart.
And I'll get through this fog,
With deep breaths to start.

Was yesterday, to while away the time,
I poured upon my page some random rhyme.
Though petty, still a poem, nonetheless.
Untimely born, but shaved of strain and stress.

Today, rereading what may seem a waste,
I’m certain, that the ink I’d spilt in haste
congealed upon my page and did compose
a pleasing piece of poetry, I s'pose.

Her squinting eyes and puckered face
poised to paint beneath the branch
a wounded mouth, a gloomy cheek;
the greening leaves bear too much weight
and brush the gloves thrown on the path.
She knows those fingers, knows their past,
what poignancies they represent,
that clutch for someone out of frame.
If canvas could but capture noise
and catch the rustle of a bush,
the rattle of a passing cart,
that stillness of a mother and child
ghosted at a window.

Original

Hell's let loose,
And her dark clouds roll over the streets,
Adorning my grief with cold revenge,
I have now become a sinner of justice.

Bitter are the fruits I have eaten,
laced with memories of our together and apart,
When I stopped the world from moving,
To save you the pain of being left behind.

Is it peace when I pour out hail and brimstone,
On the path where we laid flowers and stored treasures?
Is it satisfying when I draw the sword,
On revengeful attempt to make me whole?

When will my tired eyes stop crying,
when will my ears cease to burn?
The sky is blood red, with the colors
of Armageddon,
but there is still time to learn.
Learn to turn our swords
into packages of hope.
Turn our axes into plowshares.
Turn our hearts from stone
to malleable clay.
A place where all our wishes come true!
Somewhere beyond the bow in the sky
a place where our grandchildren
can find peace.
A place where deity and man become one!