...of course.

A experiment in poetry.

-- I have too many friends who have written poetry for the web, and this is an area I haven't approached since high school. My poetry was always like my "children" in that they would take on their own lives, which never bothered me until about 600 pages of poetry was stolen. Since then, I haven't written much of it. All which I have written until now was for a friend who wanted to use it in their newsletter. (No, I'm not telling which one.) After spending too long reading others' writings, I've decided to share again... Hope you like.

One beat at a time

I've heard the words before...
"It's better to have loved and lost
than never to have loved at all."
Perhaps it shouldn't bother me.
Perhaps.
But it does...
I have made a life of "bettering" myself.
My heart bleeds from the scars that prove it.
Scars that comfort me by assuring me
that being right isn't always being safe.
Yet in that knowledge, I know the eventual reward
will have been worth every word that cut through me.
If there is justice in love
may she not be blind.

I know better

I know I am not your idea of perfection
and if I thought for a single moment you would say yes...
well, I know better than to hold on to that hope.
You deserve more than I could offer...
a truth I find myself facing every time I pass a mirror.
Yet if I cannot be your everything,
I am happy at least being your something.
For all I want is your happiness,
even if it means letting you go to have it.
I love you in ways I cannot express in words,
yet I cannot express otherwise.
For the words get lost in the shuffle
and the expressions get lost in the translation.
If only I were someone else in your eyes,
If only... but I know better.
I find myself weighing every phrase before I speak
What says too much... How far is still safe?
And what can I brush off in case I'm caught,
for the thought of losing you is more than I can bear.
One wrong word and my world could end without warning.
One wrong phrase and I could crash into the rocks below.
Or would I? No, I shouldn't risk it.
It's far too precious a dream
to lose it to carelessness.
Besides... I know better.
And better is a smile every seven days,
the potential for a moment shared as friends.
Yes, I know better... and I treasure her.

Touch

I've heard your voice in dreams,
wishing, wanting, waiting,
and I've comforted you a million times
a thousand times each.
The subtle laughter in your voice,
tinged with resentment and a dash of longing
I reach for you... only to lose you to the daybreak
and the ringing of the alarm clock.

The Chrysalis and the Phoenix

Breaking myself, I have called it.
The stage where I develop the loathing
The stage where I fuel the fire of hatred for the image in the mirror
"Some people don't deserve to be loved" she said...
That was years ago. Another life.
And as Cyrano de Token Ring I walked away.
Those characters on the screen haunted me for years
And I tried not to believe them
Yet they come to me, comforting me in their mockery.
Yes, I was foolish to try, but to dwell on it is even more foolish
I am the catalyst for change
Be happy in that knowledge that I exist for the betterment of others
Create the phantom that I am
Then shatter the mirror
"Perhaps some people shouldn't fool themselves
into believing they need to be loved to be complete"
And into the abyss I descend,
a butterfly whose wings are ablaze.
I should turn to ashes any moment now
but I don't.
Instead, I learn to live with the flames
An unlikely Phoenix driven by a rage internal
not for what is, but for what isn't.
And clinging to the hope that what isn't is more a mirage than a reality.

Return to the library.
Back to the shell.

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page