Poem: On wings of Thought

"When I wake up, the dream isn't done. 
I want to see your face and know I made it home. 
If nothing is true, what more can I do?
I am still painting flowers for you."
-Painting Flowers, All Time Low.

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On wings of Thought, my mem'ries come
To touch my heart and spark my eye.
I hear my soul -- the silent hum
Of feelings that refuse to die. 

Mayhap it went too far, too fast?
My wounds have yet from time to heal
And dreams transport to moments past;
My mind does stray from what is real.

Your ghostly kisses haunt me still -- 
Those vows which we have left unsaid.
The ling'ring whispers fight my will;
I wake and breathe, but I am dead! 

What must I do to carry on
Without your voice to guide my feet?
And shall I call our wishes won
A triumph? More 'tis of defeat.

On wings of Thought, our idylls come -- 
Again -- to kindle hope, then fly.
Release! I beg, my heart be numb.
Else, let these long shed tears to dry.


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Another older poem that I'm not so embarrassed about. 

Poem, untitled. 23rd September 2014

Think you this world's too vastly spread
to measure with our little feet?
So I do but, my love,
not here!

Think you that time moves far too swift
for us to trace the flow of days?
So I do but, my love,
not now!

Behold! Enclosed between our hands:
the distant stars, embracing.
And what of time? I lay with you
and measure by your heartbeat.

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Poem: Pierce the veil

I long had walked upon the trail,

O’er barren fields and rocky hills,

A drive in me to pierce the veil

And find a balm to ease my ills.

I ventured asking what is right,

Amid a world of wailing noise --

A newly opened eye to light,

An ear that seeks a conq’ring voice.

But here I stand, my will confused;

The end is far and out of sight.

With what soul was my life infused,

For which I still have need to fight?

For what solution do I seek –

What purpose spurs the flame of life?

What heart upholds my flesh, though weak

And weary passing mortal strife?

I’d only ask, for none too soon

Could fabled answers come to me.

I cannot say if bane or boon

Would at the end be what to see.

So while I walk, I pray I may

Continue searching life for truth.

Thus, when it comes - the final day –

I’d say fulfilled had been my youth.

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This is an old poem I rather liked.

Poem: Lovelornity

Why do still I recall, why can’t it be forgot;

this is a humbling fall, a most bereaving lot.

I know of chilling cold that solitude may bring,

 but ‘twas not ever told, how flick’ring embers sting.

How soon you do forget, how painless walking on

from where we’ve early met, where love so dearly won

began to make its claim on ev’ry little part—

too early given aim to vent from loving heart.

What then, shall I profess, when waiting long is spent

and time has helped redress, forgive myself, repent?

With only lonesome eyes could greeting be bestowed—

a wish that ‘twas a lie, or truth we’ve never known.

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Poem: The Economist

What worth assign to this: excess,
abundance, overflow?
And when? the time to speak that less
is more, what sign to know?

I fear this flood that loving heart,
unbidden, gives to you.
To ask for even cast-out parts--
oh, loving! What a due.

Your kisses--scant--commodities,
For these I dearly pay.
Affection--with that currency,
I lose before I play.

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