Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Blue Gold

Blue Gold

Blue gold
drawing from the very old.
a subtle breeze,
erasing thoughts that bring unease.
All the moments disappear,
only flesh and blood left here.

Blue gray
gone away,
memory for another day.
Clouds of doubt,
draw it out,
sit and stare,
another route.
Tomorrow is another day,
the flesh remains,
the mind decays.

Word of the Day: dementia. (noun) loss of mental powers.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011



end to
my spirit

Word of the Day: exile. (noun) a prolonged, often enforced, living away from one's country.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Brooklyn Laundromat

Brooklyn Laundromat

Fish eye lens,
Distorts the view
Into the sudsy, white vortex.
Fluorescent drone overhead
Mixes with stubborn smells
Industry, old coffee, stale frying oil,
All adding to my stratocumulus angst.
Drops of sweat
Trickle down my back,
To my crack,
Soaking my shorts, stuck
To the red molded chair, bolted
To the concrete floor
Of the sweltering Brooklyn laundromat.

Word of the Day: pensive. (adj) thinking deeply or seriously, often of sad or melancholy things.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Feet on the Earth

Feet on the earth,
Head in the stars,
My body,
Somewhere in between.

Word of the Day: leviathan. (noun) something large or formidable.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Another Potluck Poem

This poem is in response to the poetry potluck theme of "love and the loss of it".
I wrote this poem a while ago and the reason I remember it so well is because it came to me while I was walking. Having nothing to write with, I had to memorize it as I walked. Each time I would memorize a line, another line would come to me so I had to memorize that line as well. I don't know if that happens to anyone else but poems come to me when I walk or exercise at the gym and when I'm driving. I should probably get myself one of those hand-held recorders.

To You

To you
I come
Seeking shelter
From the storm.

In you
I sense
The need,
Same as I.

Clipped of flight.
Battered by winds
And cold rain,
Seeking time to heal.

Love's touch seems
Distant to me now.
I forget it's face,
It's gentle touch.

I trust you
In this place
Both sharing
Eyes filled with pain.

Sit beside me,
Close your eyes.
Breathe fresh air,
Accept the sheltered breeze.
Feel the sun
On your face.

Word of the Day: lambent (adj) playing lightly over a surface, flickering said of a flame-giving off a soft glow.