a string of four short poems

Poem 1

We were young not too long ago
and the full grown trees were half their size.
I have always been amazed by the resilience of youth.
I am amazed by the bravery and I envy the ambitions,
which somehow shed when it comes to the later ages.

I think of little kids swinging on swing-sets
and how they try to kick the moon.
They try so hard because no one told them
this is not possible
Their ability is real and their versions of reality
are untouched . . . . or pure

Little girls play jacks and boys flip baseball cards
Some hide in bushes and play Kick the Can
Some dream
Some pretend
And some grow up wondering where it all went
(Like us)

We were young once too
Our ability was real and our version of reality
was untouched . . . . or pure

Poem 2

The substance between you and me
is like wind beneath the gulls
as they hover above the ocean.
(I like that)
I like that I can sit back and be myself
I like that I am thankful for random things,
like the morning paper, or a plain cup of coffee.

I am not sure if you knew this, but I lose myself
in the sway of your body.
I lose myself in the thoughts of your skin against mine,
or your breath against my neck.

The substance between us is like the morning’s first light.
(I like that too)
I watch you lying beneath the sheets.
Your shoulder is exposed and your leg is uncovered.
I like it because I don’t have to say anything.
I can just watch:
You with your hair pulled back behind your ear
and me with my lifetimes of imagination

I think about this often
I think about the warmth against your breast
and the curve of your spine as it moves to your lower back

I think about the substance between us
and the way my world can shatter
from just the touch of your hand

. . . I like that

Poem 3

I believe that life comes with a beginning,
middle, and of course, the inevitable end.
Whether it spans for a long time or only a short period
there is nothing more fleeting than life.

And though I may die,
I will relive the possibilities of my tomorrow
so that my upcoming yesterdays
will be alive in my memory
and live longer than all of eternity.

If I am to die
then first, I have to live
however, the term alive means so much more
than simply existing.

Being alive is more than surviving;
it is thriving in the existence of life as it unfolds.

If I am alive than I have done more than survive
I have maintained survival above all else
and I have lived above every slip or any fall.

I have kept my pace and I have smiled in the face
of my doubts and doubters
until the word doubt has slipped from my vocabulary
because doubting is dying
and dying alive, above all else
is a fate worse than death itself

and I can’t have that


Poem 4

This is love in four parts

Part I
Waves build and fold into sand.
It has been this way for more than centuries,
and as she watches,
she wonders if the sea has ever cried itself to sleep.

But of course it has, I tell her
This is where the salt comes from, I say

I have stood on the shore and watched this phenomenon myself,
and yes,
big girls do cry, I tell her.

Love does not conquer all, and as the sea breathes,
the tides rise and fall,
and the wave, which folds into sand,
will again reach the waters from where it came
to find itself alive again:
To gather
To build
To crest and fold once more
on the sands of someplace else

I have come to trust in these waves
I trust the sands and quiet anonymity
of footsteps left behind
on the spine of vacant beaches

Why, you ask?
Because I think this means I’m not alone, I say
and somewhere . . .
I know there is love for me

Part II

Rain falls to replenish the ground and soak the seeds,
which will grow,
and inevitably inherit the growth of tomorrow

And where I live,
rain sometime streaks the windows,
like tears falling on a diagonal slant;
only to dry later because the sun has come
to absorb its sadness.

I compare the tension of life to the summertime in New York City.
Eventually, the sky screams and clashes to break the humidity
I feel this is to clear the streets of its  constant madness.
I believe this is Nature’s way of calming the heat
and allowing us to co-exist

See that?
Even the sky weeps when the tension is heavy.

Part III —
It is dawn somewhere
Just now, someone’s eyes are opening for the first time.
Someone, somewhere,
is first learning what it means to be touched by a woman.

Somewhere is a woman held by a man
somewhere, someone is letting go
one Breathes . . .
one exhales while another inhales
and someone loses while another gains.

This proves that life itself is spiritually mathematic.
We add and we subtract
we multiply and we divide ourselves I
nto sections and groups.

Just now, someone’s eyes are closing for the last time
someone is saying goodbye somewhere,
and there are tears behind this.

Right now, someone is waking up to an eternal life
someone is opening a door to the sunrise
and adding themselves to light

Part IV —

These seasons we live through overlap
and form into the next one
Autumn takes away the leaves and winter freezes the ground,
which in turn, will thaw
and become reborn in spring.

I recall your silhouette in the warm, summer sun
I recall the beaches filled with life and the footsteps,
were no longer vacant.
But yet the ocean is still the same:
Still breathing
Still building and folding into sand.

So when you ask me about your sadness—
it is just another season, I say.
It is just another time to overlap
to overcome and to form into the next.

I explain, I am dependent upon these swing of events
same as I am dependent upon the anonymity
and constant movement of the sea.

This is how we grow, I add
this how I form and fold into sand

and somewhere . . .
I know there is love for me.


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