Poems

A selection of poems from over the decades.

  • November 5, 1999

    to walk into a room and know it fully
    yet himself to remain unnoticed
    walking through gathering information
    of the deeper intimate things
    with no or little questioning into the questioner
    his desires to speak but not knowing the words
    he stands quiet about his heart’s condition
    holding all his emotions along with
    the stories told to him in his lifetime that demanded
    his attention and compassion
    only to understand the receiving end
    of love that doesn’t ask for anything back
    that is content in giving freely without complaint
    to find a way to remove the emptiness that fills me
    this apparent lack of connection with anything or anyone
    longing to be reached out to before reaching out first
    knowing how it is to be a child in a parent’s arms again

    11/5/1999

  • April is National Poetry Month

    I just heard this 11 days into the month, but it’s time to celebrate it nevertheless. When back on my personal computer, I will dig up some writings from my more sensitive days in high school and college to share with you all during the rest of this month. Anyone have any poems they’d like to share, written by you or a favorite author?

  • frustration part ii

    this was a follow up to frustration

    frustration returns again
    to my tired soul
    unable to withstand
    holding back the tears
    and emotions inside
    i desperately try to hide from You
    i strive for more
    than seems possible now
    to my bloodshot eyes
    from moments of sorrow
    that last forever in my mind
    as dreams look impossible
    i pray from my heart
    as reality seems unbearable
    i will call out Your name
    for Your love to guide me
    and my hope to be restored
    so i do not crumble
    from the trials i face
    brought only to bring me
    closer to You
    in the end

    July 11, 1996

  • i see your eyes staring at my own…

    i see your eyes staring at my own
    am i looking at the inside
    or merely beautifully made curtains
    thin enough only only to know
    someone left the light on
    but unsure as to what’s happening
    leery to take the next step
    pull the shade aside
    and peer into the living room
    will words ever tell the whole story
    or will actions contradict the fairy tale
    told to everyone
    do the cinderalla dreams
    always start after midnight
    certainty so boldly displayed
    has now been torn down and destroyed
    leaving behind the soul
    with a label saying “FRAGILE”
    will any hands be gentle enough
    to caress this one of a kind artpiece
    and tend to it forever
    and not become tired of its beauty
    waiting for an answer
    the questioning is paused
    as i walk away from the mirror

    6/6/98

  • frustration

    a sad tear falls
    i look through the blur
    i see nothing
    with my bloodshot eyes
    from nights of endless despair
    wondering inside
    if my life will get better
    my hopes have not matched Yours
    and my soul aches
    my dreams cannot be lived
    and i try harder to achieve
    Your will seems no longer mine
    i need to know why
    i say yes i hear no
    frustration fills me
    why is the hurt so real
    when will it go away
    i ask how come me
    i hear just be patient and wait
    engrossed in rage
    controlled by the love
    i blindly depend on
    with no conscious thought
    through the tears

    February 20 1996

  • It’s National Poetry Month?

    A good friend of mine in Tennessee tells me it’s National Poetry Month. That sounds like a request for me to dust off some of my old works and find a couple to post here on my blog over the coming weeks. Get ready for some teen angst driven emotions to pour out. And maybe a more rare emotionally driven writing from my 20’s.

  • waiting

    i look around.
    no hope for me.
    as i look on.
    no hope i see.
    life gets worse.
    i wait more.
    my heads aches.
    i am sore.
    no love inside.
    a smile i wear.
    my tender soul.
    about to tear.
    tears i hold.
    beg to fall.
    i hold tight.
    will not bawl.
    sit on my chair.
    i watch the time.
    fly by my eye.
    no longer mine.
    standing now.
    waiting on.
    look forward.
    to the dawn.
    yearning for you.
    you i behold.
    the time you come.
    still left untold.
    as i pray here.
    a trumpet call.
    my head looks up.
    i start to bawl.

  • August 2, 2005

    here i sit while the clock strikes midnight
    images of my day flash before me
    victories and failures intermingled
    weave a story of a man confused
    about his own worth to the world
    trying to understand his importance
    how is it that value really doesn’t come from others
    or from all the thing he tries to do to impress them
    how can it have no bearing on how much he can be loved
    is it possible to be accepted simply because i’m here
    and have nothing to offer back

    another day awaits me on the other side of midnight
    what will be my greatest challenge
    i fear it is being loved
    without strings or conditions
    will i allow myself that freedom?