Dinghy

I rowed the man back to his beach
In the darkness did I glide
The stillness of the night did teach
Yet I still want to run and hide.

The man lived by himself most times
And this we saw in how he spoke
But out upon the people’s edge
It’s hard to hide the words that broke.

Looking back after he left
I saw the lone light beckoning
And all about the sweet still night
Was reverence for this one sure thing.

The oars hit down upon the wet
And lit the water magically
A mystic light that spoke and yet
It’s hard to let the magic be.

I let the fire in my soul
Die down very low
Yet even in the cold still night
The embers still will glow.

A Question to the readers…

I was thinking about getting a group of poets together and having someone pick a topic for all of us to write a poem about. I would then post all the poems on this blog. I think it might be interesting. Now if you are a writer but have not written much poetry (or any) this does not mean that you should not consider it. If anyone is interested leave a comment below.

The Storm Inside

Love and other dreams
leave a ragged mark
filling up eternity
drowning pain
with hope
and blood.

Peace we seek eternal
now
rest we hope
to find
Death or some great life
right now
and this we
fail
to see.

Desire courses like a fire
lighting up our veins
And we are carried by desire
to places
we had run.

You Are Mine

When it’s good
You often see
Things you’d hoped
You’d always be.

When it’s bad
You hear a sound
And fears grow real
All around.

When the light
Hits your face
You can’t find
The slightest trace.

Looking up
And looking down
You take the smile
And not the frown.

And how we do it
Every time
When it hits us,
“You are mine.”

With The Pigs

My Exhaustion is of a kind
That tarries in the soul
And leaves the body in a state
Let my joy be so as well.

My Depression is of a weight
That takes a man down low
And down below the stormy sea
Your dying is quite calm.

My cold failures are of a class
That colour every thing
No light comes through another lense
Let my peace be so as well.

Dreaming of the home
The one I’ve never known
Let the bad turn into good
And lead me there to rest.

What Is My Tale?

Remember that movie
I think you know the one
Where the dad
sends his son
away
out of love
So that he can
one day
be more
than he is.
Remember when the boy
asks his father,
“How will I find my way home?”
and his father
replied,
“Just follow your feet.”
Do you
remember?

I am lost.
I remember but…

How do you
follow your
feet?

How do I get home?

Inside of Me

What is it that walks
And talks
And lives
Inside of a
soul?
No dogs
No black
No white
But war none the less

In Progress

Scratching at unfinished parts
Hours every day
Hoping when we’re done we’ll see
Polish
Not
Claw marks.
Dancing is so hard
to do
When your heart is
low
But human touch is magical
and we
all
need
magic.

A Question

If anyone has any contact information for “Planaquarium,” I would greatly appreciate it.

Leading

There exists a hunger deep
Buried in the ice and snow
Waiting for the seasons’ change
To be released and leave to go.

What will you think upon that hour
When the beast flies from within
And rips the world with all its power
And shines a light on all your sin.

The heart is wicked to the core
And trusting it can take you down
But we were taught to follow there
Right behind hell’s precious hound.