Posted in Learning, Life, Poetry, Prose

Beginnings, Endings

I am told of how I began
this life, living, breathing
Of this, remember I do not
but the mere fact of me being
existing, thinking, seems
to confirm this fact,
When I am no more
will I know it? will I know of the end?
If the beginning has no memory
will the ending be the same?
Is it better to have the ones I love
the ones who love me, present?
Or will they only forget
to remember, who I am
who I was?
Existing in this time frame
right now, being alone at this moment
I might just exist as someone
who I once knew, who I once had been

Beginnings, Endings
one in the same
never the one, nor the other
never being
never leaving…

Posted in Poetry, Prose

Relationship, Considering

The ideal
the real
Poems, prose
promise and seduce me
with your words,
tell me truths
disguised as lies
disguised as truths,
if a relationship,
Try to discern
taking apart
the real, from the ideal
disappointment lurks
in the guise
of happiness,
Having found
the perfect one,
the only one,

Just one more time

Until the next one

Posted in Canada, Denmark, Poetry, Prose

How Hot Was It?

Everyone is complaining
complaining about hot
what is hot?
what is not?

Hot means ice cream
Hot means topless beaches (Denmark, you know)
Hot might mean Mini-skirts?

If there are no mini-skirts
I’ll have to let my imagination
do the walking
do the talking

I can imagine quite a bit
I can imagine what others promise
but don’t deliver

I was promised mini-skirts
I got ice cream
I got soda pop
I got cool breeze

My imagination got
what I did not,

I had been that

Posted in Poetry, Prose, Relationships

Wanting, Wanting Not

someone like her
to share, and to hold
to tell, how much
I would like to say
that love is not enough a word
not having the fullness
the color of the day, the rainbow
after the storm, the light of the sun
glancing atop the mountain spires
the cool meadow grasses, the rushing river
the quiet of the evening stars, the rush of the wind
the storm, lashing out and drowning my words
my touch will have to suffice, to feel along the lines
the curves and the impressions, that she had given me
her words, paling at the thought of the mere word, called love
the running of the race, your chest heaving and falling, the sweat
running along the glistening edges, the sound of your heart beating,
the word, called love, never spoken, never felt, as if it wanted, wanted not
wanted to say, much more than other words could
the length of your smile, the drowning of my passion in your sweet waters, the sounds of the morning dew, forming on the warming grasses, the heavens alight, with ruffles and flourishes, the cry of the birds, gracing your skies, asking, wanting to say, more than the mere words

-mere words