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 “pain

Wanting


In a silent space

this overwhelming urgency,

a slow fade,

tears would welcome

sweet serenity.

 

While a man in a slow want

feels only a quiet

the remains of a memory

all but forgotten

keep him alive this sadness.

 

This is where acceptance

begins its longer pull

upon the reality of love,

there seems now,

only the choice already made.

 

A wanting desire to feel whole again.


Missing Conversation


It could be said,

I wanted to block the world from my pain,

yet,

if that were to occur,

in a sudden disappearance

no-one might care

to understand

to realize

to find compassion

in the scrutiny of a life

moved toward a remarkable

affection

beyond all affliction.

Yet, tonight,

the awareness of a wrong,

a dangerous precedent

will now move sensuality behind

the natural affection

of a lovely bond.

She is the beauty, such elegance,

I shall always know

yet forever pine.


How I Destroyed Love


The fragile nature of knowing,

having insight,

the kind we like to deny,

that’s my world,

the crisp reality of burning flesh.

 

When scarred,

there is no matter of hope

the once brilliant scope

of passion, unbridled

desire in sweeping form

 

Is gone, felt in some waves,

occasional reminders,

a soft smile,

a similar glance,

quiet afternoon reflection.

 

All I can do is stave off

the tears that cry

my name,

the only name I can say aloud,

for the privacy of love remain.

 

I wonder how it became so crazy

that I can only answer riddles

in my own mind,

and they’re not nearly as satisfying

as a look in her eyes.

 

Only today, I realized

alone

how easily I did

destroy love,

a quiet solace is my nightmare.


Take My Heart, Please


 

drawn-broken-heart-abstract-art-2

a broken heart – pinterest

 

For it is in your hands,

the soft sweet sensual

nature of her demeanor,

a smile that fades in mind.

 

For it is when we do know love,

the ache inside our body

is enough to want to

stop the motion of life itself.

 

For it is in this my tears,

I try with all the strength

in my soul,

to understand the freedom.

 

For it will be forever,

my heart in its organicity

always remembers,

always bleeds a tear.

 

For it is the silent melody

of a broken heart,

with no mend,

only a haunting silence.


Bewilderment


It happened,

today, while fresh memory brought me a distance,

the shadows revealed loss,

hidden in the crevices of the world I live in.

I couldn’t have predicted such pain,

I wouldn’t know where to explain,

something I can’t tell anyone,

except me,

I sit here,

I’m crying, on the verge of some

loss of sanity,

trying desperately,

I’ll not process this well,

I say to only myself,

because I cannot speak to you, I can’t tell you, I can’t find you,

I can’t hear your voice, your listening eyes, your spontaneity. I can’t.

I don’t know what to do,

beyond just slapping word after word here,

hoping somehow to find a gasp,

a reality of this mixture of ill and loss and some

emotional desperation.

I’m dead,

my heart has exploded inside,

and all I can do is ask it to stop,

so the hurt will go away,

I need the hurt to

go away.

I don’t know,

I’m unsure,

I’m impulsive

in a way that isn’t meant to draw attention,

I just don’t want to live,

with this,

I don’t want to have to recover

from

this,

I don’t miss

this.

I miss you.


Oh the Wonder of Love


The barista looks upon his expression, the customer,

hasn’t any idea what might settle in mind,

yet there is of course always a wonder,

she, he, they, the people everywhere around,

haven’t a clue the loss of memory

occurs when love unrequited may no longer

hold a place in this our sweet dear fantasy.

 

An internal methodology exists when fighting

the pangs of a helpless love no longer asunder,

and instead far, very far away now,

to that greater distance where one two loves

might touch in a quiet night sky,

this evening the clouds have arrived,

there is a certain mingling beyond the mind,

will forecast only a denial of open sky this nigh.

 

I do love to know that our love is true, I always will,

I forever remind my quiet mind the patterned reality

that did our lives cross paths for reasons beyond our

own societal terms – there it is, there, we did … love.


Scared


I don’t know if I’ll

ever see you again, she

said, just wait a while.