Painted Skies

The coffee stain, smeared across

this glossy-finished tabletop

like a waterstain- painted, drawn;

catches my eye,

as it always does,

during the early hours of dawn.

 

It seizes my train of thought,

a temporary stop,

screeching, pistons ceasing

as I think to the other stains

                that still aren’t gone.

 

Like the stain of disdain

I have for all the things

I still have yet to gain.

This cigarette,

burnt out from neglect,

rests between my fingertips

as I sip upon the same

early morning coffee,

I drink at the start of every day.

 

And I think,

I lack heart in the things I say,

constantly scratching away

at a leatherbound book,

as I look

                for meaning in this life.

 

I’ve been dreaming of things,

my tongue can’t speak;

of green fields

            starry skies

and snowy mountain peaks.

And of something else,

                        I really seek…

someone whispering in my ear,

taking away my fears;

making me feel weak

                            and strong.

who makes days short

               and moments long.

 

I rest my coffee cup

upon that stain and lift my head

looking up

                 at my window instead;

I stop and see the first light

over the rooftops,

                      breaking away the night

as I imagine you rising out of bed.

 

And I seek sleep,

because deep in those dreams

everything seems…

                               …better.

Not an escape.

A time to envision

and help with the decision

to break away the tape

around this crime scene

that used to be my dreams…

                …but not any longer.

 

Because…

               there is a green field,

painted behind my eyes…

and I must simply close them

to see those starry skies,

where you and I

lay side by side,

upon beds of grass…

I know eventually I’ll meet you there,

                    old friends, embraced at last…

 

And with you I’ll lie down

               in those green pastures

forgetting past years

                          and past hurts…

 

There is for once solemnity

                                  in my soul…

and this sin in me,

which burns like coals

is starved in the waters of your sea…

 

And I wish to thank you,

for your sacrosanct heart.

It is a shrine in the eyes

                      of my departing mind…

 

To me, you are sacred;

and I wish to rid

myself of the fears

that put a lid upon my heart,

                     ready to burst…

Because you quench the thirst

of my soul,

in you, I finally live…

and I know,

            you deserve all I can give.

 

Because I find strength in all our talks.

And through them I would walk,

through that darkest valley,

in the alley between hopelessness

and despair…

For even there,

            you rally the courage in me;

you give me reason to be

                          a better man.

To stand…

                  …when I once would lay.

 

You have brought me a soul

of solemnity…

And given me a mind

                          of serenity…

I now have a heart longing for love

 just saying “Let it be! Let it be!”

 

So I look upon that coffee stain,

and give a little smile.

In a short while,

we’ll talk again

and I’ll be greeted

by the hope you send

           in every little message…

I watch the last vestige

of night fade away to day…

                       the sun is free…

I think of you

and I think of me

then I think of the stain....

         and decide to let it be,

  let it be…

Reviews

[Jessica M. Lundquist]

Beautiful word choice throughout - I love the "let it be,/let it be..." at the end - what a great sentiment to leave on. Also very visual - the coffee stain, such an everyday thing, so ugly, yet you siphon a beautiful thought out of it. I love that this doesn't have a rigid rhyme scheme - I think that makes it really interesting and groups/organizes thoughts appropriately. I can feel the longing and the devotion in this... and also an "other-worldly" feeling (for lack of a better term). You began with a very tangible, earthly image and lead me into another, more peaceful place. The thought I'm left with is not that anything is perfect, but that to "let it be" is best. Very moving. Great job.

[MachinaWriter]

Thank you, that truly means a lot. My rhyme scheme has changed quite a lot since I first joined this site, turning into what it is now, thanks largely to a good friend in my life, who is a bit of a muse and a bit of something more. Its amazing how simple changes in our lives can switch around the way we think, even the way we write. Sorry, I'm rambling lol I get carried away sometimes. I'm glad you enjoyed the poem, that truly means a lot.

[RachelReaper]

beautiful as always, i honestly have no critism because I saw no mistakes and no way to make it better, as it is so close to perfect all on its own. You have a gift at this, you know that?

[MachinaWriter]

I wouldn't say a gift, but I do have a passion for it. And a desire to continue to get better. But I thank you for the compliment. It means a lot. And I'm glad you enjoyed it. I wrote this one at like...4:00 in the morning, by the time I finished the whole thing. lol

[RachelReaper]

jeez! 4 AM?! then you also forgot to mention that you have comittment.

[MachinaWriter]

or a sleeping disorder lol xD I can't sleep if I don't finish the poem I'm working on at the time.

[RachelReaper]

either seem to be effective lol

[MachinaWriter]

lol ^^

[afra]

nice write ....deep and creative ...well done

[MachinaWriter]

Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it ^^

[Southern Cross]

"stand…
…when I once would lay." Yes Yes Yes !! i know where you are coming from on this. Isn't it wonderful when we can find someone who does all that for us ? Gives us hope , courage . warmth and a fresh approach to life. It's like a new dawn to compliment the sunset.

[MachinaWriter]

Most assuredly. lol That's exactly it. You find those kinds of people, and they're very rare. You don't find them all the time and its just...well, its a thousand tiny little things that just...makes sense. And it just happens. It clicks. And you realize, wow...the day goes on. You don't even care about those little stains in life anymore, that used to bother you so much.

Those thousand of tiny little things that all indicate that this is...real...they give you hope and everything in the world where you once were without it. Coffee icecream becomes reasons to dream. And a movie with Tom Hanks reminds you to give thanks, because those things, all small and tiny and of their own insignificant, add up to mean something more. It is the sunrise. And it is hope. Not just reason for it.

Sorry...rambling lol I get carried away about things I'm passionate about sometimes. My bad lol xD

[Southern Cross]

Passion is the zest of life ..Never make excuses for it :)

[KAOlmsted]

Not a single missing limb...this is breathtaking.

[MachinaWriter]

Phew...good, I hate trying to reattach limbs. You give it the thread, a little zap of lightning, and sure, it has life...but its never quite right. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

[KAOlmsted]

I did...so very much.

[Sirius King]

another great write,
with a nice flow-it paints a picture


And I seek sleep,

because deep in those dreams

everything seems…

…better.

Not an escape.

A time to envision

and help with the decision

to break away the tape

around this crime scene

that used to be my dreams…

…but not any longer.

^^^i really like this part

[MachinaWriter]

Thank you ^^

[Damien Davison]

The first stanza was brimming with flow, the next two stanzas the flow slowed a little, bumping a bit ( you always make up for it with wording haha ) but once we got past them we were fine for the most part!

I love the way you format your poetry and arrange your thoughts, it makes it exciting to follow with my eyes and register in my mind... Great man!

[MachinaWriter]

Thank you. I like to slow it down and speed it...pausing here and there to look at things and ponder things....

[.]

~ i love reading poetry where words flow at the same pace as imagery... (for me that is)... the seamless fusion that happens when that happens inspires me to pursue excellence in poetic expression more than before... ~ this piece has all of that and more... and though, philosophically speaking, i'm not in this specific zone of introspection or return to comfort... i remember it and in my humble opinion you did great justice to depicting it... ~ excellent work...

[MachinaWriter]

Aww...I'm sad, because I posted this and didn't know I'd hit publish. It wasn't finished yet lol But I'm glad you enjoyed it. I've only recently had this mindset, largely thanks to my muse. Actually...entirely thanks to my muse. Without her, I wouldn't have any of these thoughts. I'm grateful for your kind review, though. I'm a huge fan of your work, so it means a lot.

[.]

~ no worries, dude... i'm reading the completed version now... shall write to you in just a bit... ~ i am humbled to discover that you like my work... thank you... :)

[MachinaWriter]

I love your "somewhat poetic prose". I read your description of that and it made me smile. I'm somewhat reminded of Charles Dickens. He wrote prose that was "somewhat poetic" and I see similarities when I read your work. If you've never read his novel Bleak House, I highly recommend it. The opening to that is "somewhat poetic prose" lol

"Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping, and the waterside pollutions of a great and dirty city. Fog on the Essex Marshes, fog on the Kentish heights. Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs..."

Yeah, I've read that opening "that" many times lol I don't sleep a lot haha

[.]

~ haha... that's a lot of "fog"... but thank you for sharing this extract... i appreciate it so much... ~ i have read charles dickens many centuries ago... and... though not the novel you mention... ~ you humble me infinitely when you say my words remind you of his... (i hope he's not screaming in protest in his grave, god bless his soul, lol :P)... ~ i'm not able to read a lot of text now but i'll try and read extracts of that novel when i can... thanks again... can't get the fog out of mind now... it'll probably express itself in whatever i write next... haha... :P

[MachinaWriter]

I just felt the same way. I'm predicting a weather report of a lot of fog in tomorrow's poetry lol I'm a big fan of the classics, mainly for their style. The writers of that time period were very poetic.

[.]

~ haha... and, they were indeed more poetic... my personal favourite is oscar wilde... i love his language... his sense of humour... and his sense of the fusion of classical and contemporary english...

[MachinaWriter]

He's definitely a good read for people that would normally trip up on language of that kind. He's a happy medium and I agree, he had a particular sense of humor. So did Mark Twain, who I find more enjoyment out of his journal writings and letters, than anything else of his.

[.]

~ ah... well... i don't see anyone beyond oscar wilde... except these two maybe... (in many ways)... and i'm lucky i get to read them... :)

http://www.writerscafe.org/edhart7

http://www.writerscafe.org/Curio%20Arca

[MachinaWriter]

*sigh* I wish I could accomplish what writers like this do. Able to describe so much in so little words. I write stories, with places and characters, in poetic form, that are long and journeyful in an attempt to express the things that this Ed Hart does in a few short lines. I'm envious. I guess I'm still a storyteller, at heart, and won't ever be able to break free of that. Though I often wish I could.

[.]

~ haha... i don't experience envy... i just admire both of them a lot... i've read their poetry and their short stories... and, they excel in both forms, as well as evolve continuously... ~ english is my second language... i never even thought i'd get this far... :P

[MachinaWriter]

Es su primera Espanol?

[.]

~ hahahaha... not at all... :P

[MachinaWriter]

Eh, second most common first language in the world, figured it was a pretty high chance lol

[.]

:)

[Southern Cross]

LOL with you 2 blabbing my review will wind up on the 4th page :)

[MachinaWriter]

Neva! Its right at the top, I do believe. lol

[.]

~ haha... thanks for leaving your footprint on this psychobabble, SC... you're too cute... :P

[Southern Cross]

How could I not :) ?

[.]

:D