I would like to be a writer. I began this site with amorous intentions, and over the course of time, I hope to have evolved as a male in an ever changing society that is today, recognizing the true beauty and elegance of woman. My words and notions will I hope respond in poetic verse of many genre and style. Come along and please share your ideas and insights. Thank you for your visit.

Posts tagged “fear

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Speaking Silence


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I Don’t Know Where She Is


I’m speaking in words,

because I cannot feel,

if anything I can only feel fear,

it is an ominous persona

to be so stricken,

to wonder the outcome

of a moment beyond our own

imagination.

And it is true,

how frightening can be our own

thinking?

What if I’m wrong,

or even more threatening,

what if my instincts

tell me what I wish not to accept.

What if she’s gone?


This Place I Never Go


It is dark in its gloomy tone,

I tend to walk past,

always feeling known,

yet able in the light

to find safe passage.

 

Away from the dark places

in my mind,

those foreboding regions

of despondent hell

where reality laughs

in the face of love.

 

Tonight I have been asked

to step inside

to slam the door closed

to not ever reach back

for my words

are no longer welcome.

 

It is a dark place

where fear resides.


If She Might Listen


If only,

in that moment,

when I might know,

advances were of an innocent nature,

she cried inside,

not letting me ever see her pain,

yet I was the bewildered one,

now with a stain,

a lasting impression,

I would carry with me forever.

 

I suppose it is that patriarchal significance,

always knowing,

self-assured and callous,

anticipating the world to be our measure

of decency,

yet in that quiet memory,

I do recall her laughter,

it did,

bring us to the top of the mountain,

just the ledge,

the ledge that kept testing balance,

would never have held us both.

 

In lasting memory,

I always do replay the moments,

when somehow,

I hesitated,

and she would later,

have a confusion,

I can only hope would someday

turn a smile.


Deceptive Isolation


Have you ever really looked,

studied expression beyond a comment,

the quiet afterward,

if you could be inside that bubble,

how soon would despondency return.

 

I’m asking a question,

I already know the answer,

because it always returns,

despite my effort to want to move forward,

it’s the questions, the unknown,

the desire to feel wanted,

and then everything goes to hell.

 

Have you ever wondered if a person’s frame of mind,

is solely built upon interaction,

what if you put them in the words,

with an assurance of human isolation,

how long would they last before they decided,

nature might be the best solution.

 

Next time you wonder,

take a moment,

realize your impact is far greater,

than you might quietly ever imagine,

in the space of your own reasoning.


Writing to Fill an Empty Heart


I struggle with words,

they seem to carry on a certain storyline,

one I can never really grasp,

until the print allows my eyes to remember,

the swimming in motion ends

when it becomes the right time to let go.

 

I’d like to find the imagery in pain,

is it the steel edge cutting into a red ribbon,

where eyes might watch the soul slip away

in steady stream

no more hesitation,

a quiet, soothing, not so eternal release.

 

A friend of mine once said to me,

it is true we live our lives a very short time,

so in that span of countless hours,

we might remember love,

for it is that spiritual energy allows our smile,

if only for a brief instant,

to give us hope, a meaning and reason to survive.

 

I know that sometimes words might convey meaning,

but if it isn’t felt then they do become

only a semantic journey filled with imagery and pause.


I Can’t Touch You, But I Love …


I struggle to know,

what is right from wrong,

when it is I know there is love,

there is a memory of need to share

what we both believe began our journey

together.

~

I swell as easily into society’s trappings

as the next fallen victim,

that sir, a madam, that genuine spirit

once before,

knew the treasure of delight in passion.

Now today, a cloudy day becomes a regular

reality in that visual palette of survival.

~

I wonder why when I do reach,

the hands that create passion,

I hope might begin their return,

stay at bay,

wait again for some moment of indecision,

a perhaps metal wall

capable of no interference.

~

I remember when

eyes would speak a loud

until the words no longer need

utterance,

only our writhing embrace

would carry out that lead,

while animals enhance sensuality

~

indeed.