Of forgotten dreams

Through long lines and blood
drenched pages of history
collect the pulverized souls
of those whose minds flowed
with dreams of more
golden sunrises to come
washing over wildflower fields
long ago forgotten to the rotting earth.

Departing

My heart lost in blue eyes
that gaze back with distant longing,
which brief frolics, arm in arm,
are unable to quench.

The deep passion still undampened
by the gathering tears, ready to burst forth
and stream down soft red cheeks.

I hold your delicate hand in my own;
coarse calluses seem so harsh
for such virtuous features,
yet still I hope for a gentle caress

to pour your pain into me,
but instead, of course, we both quiver
at the soft sensation of warmth
that sparks between naked skin.

And, with a sigh, we stare back
into each other's glistening eyes
and smile before leaning in

for a fleeting embrace, punctuated
by an almost intangible kiss
that lingers on my cheek
while we depart through separate doors.

Loved (DRAFT)

salt stained cheeks draw tight, cracking
the facade, struggling to conceal deep fissures.
my heart now exposed, still pumping, each beat grinds
in pain.

It destroys whatever you were to be whatever it is.

Depression.


I can beat this.

Because I am stronger.

No drug, no show, no person, no thing

Is stronger than the power to overcome

the constant maddening struggle

that is human existence

which dribbles in front of us

but we choose to experience this moment

hanging here in front of us

even if it drops on

a step back

for progress


so, that's me.

Old Photographs

I gaze into the smiling eyes staring
back at me through the fading surface
of the photograph, held at arm's length;

the familiar face betrays my own
lost emotions. A knowing glint radiates
from the stare of the old friend,

whose tender features are innocent
to the calloused palm scratching
my weathered cheek. The lost countenance helps

obscure old memories of joy still focused
on bright futures. The young eyes' glimmer
dims and I continue on to dwell
through darkened old photographs of me.

Traveling Alone at Dusk

Sandy patterns ripple to the distance
And merge into the dimming light
Across the remote fading horizon.
The wind whistles a soft note
And swirls a bit of fine dust
That meanders over the barren landscape.
The air is dead still now,
And orange skies hang down
Over deep black shadows
That bleed into the coming night.

Haiku

A blooming tulip
Opens toward the clear sky
And hovering bees

-

Mayflies sit in rest
On the water's calm surface
Broken by a trout

-

The full moon shines light
Down over rolling ripples
Of the flat black lake

-

The sun hangs lower
Over the browning corn field
A tractor cuts through