It’s early on a Sunday, the sun not up.
Unquiet thoughts shoot around in my head
and I try to calm them with melancholy songs.
It’s early on a Sunday, and I wish a woman was
laying beside me, someone to touch and love
and to be with me as the storms roll in.
No work so I could sleep all day, and maybe
have sweet dreams of paradise, and that
long lost love who’s forgotten all about me.
A song about a mermaid who fell in love
with a boy, who she can only watch from the waves.
Like me she can only dream of someone.
It’s early on a Sunday, and the sun’s not up.
I hope the anger and the fear do not come.
I hope today is a sweet day. I hope for peace.
Trees line the creek,
which babbles, mumbles,
over slick rocks it tumbles;
you hear it speak!
Hidden from view,
a seperate place to hide,
as big as heaven is wide,
just me and you!
None hurt us here!
Our place of dreams!
We are born of sunbeams!
We make all disappear!
We are king and queen
of Atlantis or Camelot.
Some place forgot.
Oh! What we’ve seen!
Emily Jo, Emily Jo,
I still dream of that time!
Those days and their Rhyme!
Where did it all go?
On Henley Street Bridge, late at night as Saturday slips into Sunday,
looking at the dirty water beneath, the lights of UT campus,
and shadows that are pierced not by starlight dance in the dark.
The wind is cold and bitter, whipping this way and that and back.
My spirit, my very essence is tossed on this wind,
to just walk away forever, or to stay and remain untenably silent.
Leave. Stay. Leave. Stay. A binary single, transmitted from a Quasar
on the edge of the universe, yet as close as the sidewalk beneath my feet.
I dream of a woman, and then push it away as being useless.
I dream of an escape, and then push it away as being cowardly.
I dream of the wind, the binary decided, the sweetness only the cold gives.
I walk home.
We’ve been friends for years, been through so much,
seen the best and worst of each other, held each other up
and laughed in the good times. You are all but blood.
And in this hospital room, you cradle and coo at your newborn,
joyous if uncertain of what will come, how you’ll get both of you by.
You are loving and loyal and I know you’ll be such a great mother.
I look at you and at your baby, and what if they’ll be beaten down like us.
You are asleep, and baby is dreaming first dreams, still only starlight.
Sitting by the window, looking out at the night, at the world that waits for us.
I wish I could take a shard from my purest soul, all that is loving and good in me,
and shape it into an angel to watch over your baby, to be the light that never dims.
For I know, and you know, what waits out there in the world.
The darkness sometimes only becomes grey, a little red, a little ray,
before it falls back to pitch. Still, we still a little hope, a little warmth.
Your shift over and your having a smoke, and we sit alone, silent for a moment,
as the autumn gold stars of suburban sprawl spread out before us,
only beautiful in the dark, the counterfeit heavens, the tin tyrant moon.
So much swirling in both our lives, riptides threatening to drag us under.
So much fear that the dark will win and we’ll drown in pain and bad luck.
I put my arm around you, kiss your head, lay my face against your hear.
You are soft and warm, and our spirits touch through skin, a quantum embrace.
The darkness, for a moment, brightens to a bruised blue, and we touch a ray of solace.
Solace in touch, in each other, in knowing we’re in this together, and the we love.
On more moment, sitting in the night, in silence, in an embrace beyond our words.
One more moment of peace and solace, before the riptide grabs us under again.
This poem is told from a female characters perspective.
I saw you hurt, and I tried to comfort you.
I tried to be your friend. I tried to stand at your side.
I didn’t like how he treated you, and I told him so.
I could have been your friend,
but I couldn’t follow the path you chose.
You nursed your hurts like they were a sick lover.
You fed the anger and the hate, until that light I saw,
that star in the dark galaxy of your eyes, went out.
There was still love in you, I would see it, it still peaked out.
But you let the darkness snuff it all out of you.
I stand between you and him, the gun in your hand,
the star gone and the galaxy great black stones.
I know he hurt you, but I won’t stand by while you do this.
I know how you feel about me, but I won’t be with someone
who’d chose this path.
If I ever meant anything to you. If you ever did love did love me,
don’t do this.
Please, don’t do this.
In her crown and finery, she was laid down.
Her infant son still cradled to her breast.
Mother and Child sent across the waters
as the tomb was closed forever from the sun.
The day, early winter, grey and rainy, dark.
The tomb sealed, Mother and Child closed away.
May they wake in warm sunlight, and eternal summer.
Mother and Child playing again in a lush green garden.
Under the shade of ancient trees, Child to her breast.
The sun of our goddess ever bright, ever warm.
The ravage that took them from this world forgotten.
Only joy. Only play. Only love.
In the arms of a woman in the congregation, a child cries.
She tries to shush and soothe, as tears fall on her cheeks.
A new queen chosen, new children born, another tomorrow.
The rain will soon give way to the sun, winter to summer,
loss to love.
I say I want love, but I have run from it ever chance I’ve gotten.
I say I want someone to adore me, but have spurned all who have.
Always dreaming of some crimson angel, impossible in the heavens,
some weeping demon all too real in the depths of late night hells.
Those unattainable joys and passions that seem so much better
than a simple and chubby sweetheart to share ramen and sitcoms with.
A good girl loves true, but I want the seductress who burns me to the ground.
A good girl stays after the day has fallen and the years have passed into breeding.
The crimson angels, the weeping demons, all pass away after a season.
Sitting alone, tea in my hand, thinking of a sweet girls who smiles for me.
Will it be different this time? Will I stay?
We don’t talk, except to argue and get frustrated, just an endless cirle.
We don’t talk, just sit in our own parts of the house, strangers in one home.
The rush of love so long ago, beyond remembering.
You were always on the road, it was just me and the kids.
Kids now grown. Your are home. But can’t overcome the distance
between now and then.
I wish to reach out to you. To hold you. But we’re both in other worlds.
I go out with my friend. You go out to a movie. I hate your shows.
Get mad when I leave, but you just watch TV, don’t speak at all.
God, I don’t want to just be there, I have my own escape.
I have my own places to go.
But we’re old, and I see you failing. I see you get angry with yourself.
I get frustrated too, but you don’t have to curse like that.
You don’t have to yell. It hurts me so.
We’re old, and I know I might lose you. All these years of silence.
It will rip my heart out when your gone.