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

Posted in Learning, Life, Poetry, Prose

Along a Road

Walking along a road
with stones lining the way
and stones being the road,
I daresay

Stones, crunching
my morning repast
with flavors of metamorphic
and plutonic,
but lacking volcanic

Oh, how I miss
a good think
about Pluto
and the River Styx
and the stones in his river,

Stones in the River
glistening, shiny
smooth as a baby’s
slippery when wet
enjoy them while so
upon my road, be they
boring, stones

Skipping stones
killing time
one, two, five
step on a crack
break my mother’s
not with stones, though
not with stones,

Large stones, become
smaller yet
time eats, crunches
my stones
turning them into sand
my sandy road, reflecting
the stones I once knew

When I wasn’t killing