I wanted to write you some words you'd remember
words so alert they's leap from the paper
and crawl up your shoulder and lie by your ears
and be there to comfort you down through the years.
But it was cloudy that day and I was lazy
and so I stayed in bed just thinking about it.
I wanted to write you and tell you that maybe
love songs from lovers are unnecessary.
We are what we feel and writing it down
seems foolish sometimes without vocal sound.
But I spent the day drinking coffe, smoking cigarettes
and looking in the mirror practicing my smile.
I wanted to write you one last, long love song
that said what I felt one final time.
Not comparing your eyes and mouth to the stars
but telling you only how like yourself you are.
But by the time I thought of it, found a pen,
put the pen to ink, the ink to paper,
you were gone.
And so, this song has no words.
or so we tell ourselves,
But it's a long way from morning to the evening.
The man who's dead to dreaming
You've but to push your fist throught the mist
and haze
to penetrate the clouds. Easier for the dreamer,
harder for airplanes.
lives within a cloud of his own
making
and so his chance of entering the
stratoshere is scant. I close my eyes
to dreaming, only long enough to dream.
n-o-t-h-i-n-g
I ache to learn some new games now,
Catch me in the sunlight.
Now comes the time for closeness once again
The big boys play
In Someones Shadow
One day a man will take you on the high roads;
After a time he'll leave you someplace nice
Or tell you where the big boys play.
They usually string out their games
In someone's shadow
It could be yours.
More likely mine,
For mine's grown longer and there's more room here.
I've been away too long.
To see a new door open I'd go almost anywhere...
even backward,
If I had the time.
Catch me pacing the trees.
Build a fence around me
the moment you see me running
I'm so elusive sometimes
I miss the things worth stopping for.
Turn me over gently
Hold me for the woman I am.
Smooth out the wrinkles on my face
because I need.
In someone's shadow down the street
no misery in not being loved
only in not loving
I learned these truths myself
I tell them to you now
as you go sailing through the sun
on your way towards life
Some
Tree trunks I've never wrapped my legs around and climbed.
A million branches I might have slid down
Had I had the time.
Still
Some leaves trembled in the wood and caught my ear
Some twigs beneath the hooves of deer snapped
and signaled spring.
Waking me from the endless winter thoughts.
I make words for people I've not met
It is for love that I live all alone.
I make rhymes for people who won't hear
people I meet once and will never see again.
It is for me a kind of loving.
A kind of loving, for me.
those who will not turn to follow after me.
It is for me a kind a loving.
A kind of loving, for me.
Because the lovers I imagine
are safer then the ones I've known.
some who will not turn their faces to meet mine.
It is for me a kind of loving.
A kind of loving, for me.
More Thought Provoking poetry by Rod McKuen
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