I Wanted

When I was less than two

 I wanted to be changed, fed

And rocked until I slept

To be understood

For everyone reason I wept

When I was five

I wanted to play

Laugh and learn

To pick up something new

At every corner I’d turn

When I was a little more than ten

I wanted to sing and live.

I wanted to be

 more than something 

dreamed or imaginary.

When I was fifteen

I wanted friendship.

To live and dance.

To not fear fate

 Or avoid chance.

When I was twenty

I wanted success.

To carry what I’ve learned.

To touch the future

And not get burned.

When I was twenty five

I wanted love.

To hold hands with hope.

I wanted to survive

The occasional downward slope

Now I’m more than thirty

And I want to be better.

I want the days to be longer.

I want the world

To be kinder and stronger.

And whatever number of years

That may come after this,

I am quite sure

 My list of wants

 will be for more

more love

more hope

more success

more friendship

more life

more laughter

more of me

and more of you.

This

This is like nothing else

And so this I can’t explain.

This isn’t like thunder

Because thunder loudly comes and goes

And this silently stays

This is nothing like the rain

Because the rain fills the rivers

and helps the living grow

This drains my strength

This stunts my heart’s growth

This is nothing like grief

Because grief is the lowest of many steps

This doesn't lead my shoes
 to any higher levels
This curls alone in a dark corner

This is nothing like madness

Because madness stems from passion

And has wide, intense open eyes

This has no loving roots

This is a weed suffocated beneath cement

This is nothing like pain

Because no drug can numb this

This can’t be put to sleep with pills

This lies beside insomnia

With no hope for a peaceful coma

This is nothing like fear

Because fear is conceived by the unfamiliar

And I know this too well

This can’t be conquered face to face

This has no face

This isn’t rage

Because rage can be hushed

Like a strong breath to a candle’s flame

This burns

 like a thousand year old unknown part of space

This has no metaphor

This has no image

This has no voice

And I hope you never know this

Where is Your Heart

You tell me your mouth can sing a tune

That tricks an angel into thinking heaven moved

as she starts to pack her things

And spreads her wings

But where is your heart?

Can I hear your heart?

You tell me you can lift

 your weight and mine in tragedy

and carry it forever without putting it down

You can be stabbed with sorrow’s sword and never frown

But where is your heart?

Can I hold your heart?

You know words so large,

they bulge out of margins

and that’s okay,

 because you can tailor their pages in such a fancy way

But where is your heart?

Can I read your heart?

Can you show me a smile

Those words have magically marked on a face?

Can you show me the goosebumps

That formed when your travelling voice

reached the soul beneath another’s flesh?

Where is your heart?

Can you show me your heart?

All this strength and talent you carry

Mean very little to me

 if your heart

isn’t big enough for distant eyes to see.

So put your heart inside 

everything you share

and help love move the world

Turbulence

Walking upside down

a million paces behind the morning

The stars my stepping stones,

The night sky my pond

I figure if anything can teach my feet

The right steps

In the dance of life

It would be the constellations.

Sometimes though

I look up at earth

And miss it so…

 I forget that it rarely had time for me

And back again, like a turbulent affair,

 to the ground I go

Strolling through

 a summer’s dream

The moon hides

Lost love behind its face

 Love that used to reside

between the sand

And ocean’s greeting kiss

Every time I walk the shore

I find that I miss you more

And back again, to the sky, I go.

Like a plane
 passing through,

A piece of me forever flies

Over a waving sea of goodbyes.

Everyday my life begins

At a vacation’s end.

My heart is a tired traveler

with no more postcards to send.

Home

Hope, for me,

has been more like a forgotten house key.

The mundane takes my mind hostage

and I lock myself out of my home;

the very one I began building as a child.

He-man and She-Ra stacking Legos

while the G.I. Joes bravely stand guard,

the Transformers in the driveway,

and Little Ponies prancing in the yard.

After superman put on the roof,

I stocked the bedroom closet with glass slippers,

and then followed 

the scent of celebration

to see Strawberry Shortcake baking in the kitchen.

Now I'm outside

like a stranger,

peering into the very same window

that I used to gaze out of...

The magic window

the only one where I could watch

Lady and The Tramp
 chasing after The Grinch.

The only window where I could go,

 to taste the cotton candy sky

When I pressed my face against it

and the sweetness left my heart all dizzy.
Though sadly, the magic doesn't work

from the side where I'm standing
 and the only key is locked inside. 
If I break-in, it won't ever be the same
 Now, I'm the only one to blame
 for forgetting to take it with me
 so I could come back home.

A Random Explanation

I connect letters

each with cases,

and various shapes

 Some straight, others curvy

 and play matchmaker

 with words and scenes.

I have no more

 than one or two pages worth of time

 to make it all work 

just enough to not appear tired.

I set the empty sky up on a date

 with a full harvest moon

I introduce the stars

 to a pessimist’s dusty dreams

And sometimes...

Not always.

But sometimes,

 it all works out

And I will sit back with a smile

as I watch them stroll

through some scenic place,

fresh with color,

 and background sound

sharing harmony at a perfect distance.

I take contradictions,

 balance them on each hand

And then join them together

Until they become

 one prayer of a promising friendship.

I touch emotions with warning labels

Too hot

Too cold

Things that spark and cause a shake

when thrown in a tub of sorrow.

I leave caution to fend for itself,

while I relentlessly dance with fear

until the jealous night concedes.

Some nights I trade

 lamps without lampshades

for lightly scented candles

 with trimmed wicks

Some days I choose a keyboard

So I can delete the thoughts

Of feeling like something

That is filled with crumbled paper

I've been called a poet

perhaps because I am really nothing

Without poetry.

January Rain

January Rain

You were just as pretty

As the first fallen snow

You found the perfect spot

caressing the moonlight

against my parlor room window

And now, in the heart of my shadowed thoughts

 You still, and will always glow

Some will only think of you in summer

But in the freezing nights and short-lived days

I still wait for your sound, you know

And although there’s a blanket

Comforting the ground

The white silence doesn't soothe me

There was life with you around.

I wrote this poem this afternoon, while listening to this video.

Dedicated to my sister Amanda  1-30-81 - 8-17-12

she's showering heaven with her vivacious spirit

Lose

Lose love

Replace the loss

With trouble that will leave you sick

Fill the void with pain

Lose an angel to heaven

And replace the loss

With several layers of hell

Fill the void with anger

Lose the central piece

Of your puzzling life

Throw the leftover pieces in the trash

Clear away more room for the emptiness

Lose what you've spent your life saving

And replace the loss with destruction

Crush the rubble,

so you’ll have meteors to throw in space

Lose all the passion you've won

And never play for first place again

Fill the void with the silence

Of an empty stadium

Or stop walking in circles

Listen to the hearts

 trying to help you beat away the sorrow

And realize that love doesn't get lost

It moves, it grows, it changes,

but it always knows its way

Most importantly, it waits for you

Until you remember yours

So stop losing time

A Tired Prayer

Just A Life

Like the breath of many

Wrapped in layers of consistency

Nothing extraordinary

Pale complexion

With eyes as heavy

As its sighs

Dying to leave

and so it cries

Just A Hand

Scarred, but tender still

tracing an empty page

No ink and no quill

The unwritten remains

A nomadic thought

With no place to stay

Passing through the night

Vanished by the day

Just A Voice

trapped behind trepidation’s lips.

Never lifted beyond a whisper

Too weak to escape limitation’s grips

hoping for enough strength to find a home

somewhere melodic, near a deep, peaceful lake

stocked nightly with fresh dreams.

A sunporch where a soul can bathe itself awake

Or watch the summer rain
 court an English Daisy

Just a tired prayer

In need of so much more

Than time can share.