Tales of Grief

This is my second book or compilation of poetry. Enjoy

                     

 

         Author’s Introduction:

 So here we go again. Why the continuing exploration of this subject? Love. Well, I am at this time still in a constant search for love. More accurately: True Love. This seems to be one of the most elusive of objects that I know. We are inundated with the search, finding and losing of love from every angle, film, t.v. and print media. Products that we find everywhere promote it and deify it. So as in the last book, Katib al-Ibar, I have placed here a series of pieces that I wrote over a several month period. Most do deal with that subject, some do not. As for the inspiration for the poems, most of them were written as a result of my desire/ love/ loss for the women who came in and out of my life during that time. No, I will not name names. But I think that if you know me well, you may know who some of them were. Who they were is not that important though, that I wrote these for and about them is. Not in condemnation of them but inspiration by them. I don’t feel anger towards people like this, just a touch of sadness, maybe. Maybe. And little bit of longing. Longing for what they gave to me or took from me. Longing for that glimpse of true love that lead me to each of them

So enjoy these as you will. Read them aloud as with all of my work, the pace and rhythm are inherent in the vocalization of the words and in the phrasing. Read them with someone you love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Wedding Song.

We stood on the porch, night hot, stars bright and high.

I paced--looking this way and that.

My feet,

the door,

the ground,

your face.

My heart raced.

Courage.

Find that deep down.

But fear--

so I think on you.

Not of this moment or the time I made the choice.

But all the precious moments prior.

Love, that is what its all about.

True love.

For all ages which has brought me here.

To this point of decision.

 To ask.

 My love, I have a question for you.

This I do with all my heart, all my soul.

And forever. Amen.

Do you?

I do.

 

 

Anxiety

Tonight of all nights I looked into your eyes to tell you.

But a look was not enough.

The words were needed--but I couldn’t.

I wanted to say but I knew you would hear.

So I just looked at you.

Something so sad was in your eyes.

I wanted to say it.

My arms longed for your.

My lips ached.

But you are not ready to hear and I--

I am willing to take the time to be patient.

I can see things in your eyes, moments.

A yearning.

Its all right.

I am here for you.

I will not fail that which you impart upon me.

Don’t hold back.

I will be true to you.

Your faith will not be undeserved.

My devotion is real.

These things you don’t want to hear,

to think of,

to ponder.

So this I do from afar.

But next to you do I wish to be,

look into your eyes,

take up your soft hand and speak the words,

forever burned in my heart,

given unto God.

For all time.

What good would it do?

None.

Accomplish What?

Nothing.

Solve anything.

No.

So what good would it do?

My heart sits leaden in my breast.

As I look to you and wonder,

my heart sinks.

I wish I could cry or run.

Maybe scream.

What good would it do?

I am alone in my despair.

The one answer to my anguish will not hear my words.

She’ll not listen.

Won’t return that which I give to her.

But I try again.

What good would it do?

Nothing.

Would it solve anything?

No.

And so--?

No.

 

 

Alone in the Fall

Spring has come and gone.

Flowers petal bloomed and scented gone

and still grows the grass.

The new born fawn frolics, listening to every sounding breeze.

I enjoy the blossoms,

lay and look at the clouds.

Name them. Moving now. Moving on.

Summer’s heat dusty bright.

Dry and oppressive.

The snow melts, all things grow, change.

The nights are warm and don=t linger.

The stars are clear and sharp.

Still grows the grass.

The nights lengthen and cool.

My heart weighs heavy.

Thoughts turn over and days go by.

I stand wondering at it all.

Green comes to brown to bare.

The woods no longer sing but rustle and crack beneath my feet.

I stand alone.

Alone in the fall.

 

 

Tales of Grief (1)

To what do I owe joy?

It is a tale, a dream,

a nightmare foolishly thrust upon my waking heart.

It is the longed for arms,

open wide with embrace but all too often distant

and unreachable.

This penance is a lonely road,

waves of heat blurring the horizon.

Real or imagined events raise and dash my soul.

But like some animal in a bizarre surreal experiment,

I drive on.

My feet blister,

my eyes fog over from dust and tears.

My cries in the wilderness echo off the rocks,

returning as mocking laughter.

The joy is at an end.

All that is left if the journey, the bleak road alone.

How my travels fill me with dread.

The nights grow cold.

I curl up, fetal, under a billion stars.

My soul aches wishing for release.

A gift I cannot give.

Sorry, I am unable.

Life must now become the pursuit of other things then joy.

But if that is true, what little else is there.

Little or nothing I say.

On, weary traveler, on.

Shuffle the feet forward.

On and on and on...

 

 

An Answer

Talk to me.

Tell me what I have done to warrant this.

My excommunication is compete.

My sentence is given.

No trial, no court, no chance.

Why?

No words from you.

Just that cruel silence.

The deafening quietness of your refusal to speak to me.

What have I done?

What is wrong?

Please.

My agony compounds itself daily.

By the second.

I am here forever.

Please--talk to me.

Your silence is worse then my death.

 

 

A Dream Poem

Holding your hand was natural.

Two puzzle pieces, made perfectly.

Why?

Together we walked.

The rolling hills beckoned.

The fresh grass newly wet from the sprinklers.

I held you in my arms, playing to drop you in the puddles.

You pushed me toward one, playful.

I easily lifted you into my arms and looked into your eyes.

Very beautiful.

Why?

Together we walked.

Holding your hand was so natural.

So soft, warm and tight against mine.

I wanted to hold you forever.

Why?

Funny things these dreams.

 

 

Am I half a heart?

Questions come to me.

Many after few answers.

Still more unasked, waiting.

I am caught in a loop.

A circular chain of the self.

Same query, concerning---

my heart,

my soul and the great mystery of all---love.

Why does this goal elude me?

What have I not or done or forgotten?

Whom have I cursed?

Insulted?

Betrayed?

I want to and yet am denied.

My life is hollow.

Depression is an easy hunter of me.

I lack the strength.

My arms weakly push my assailant, for my heart is not in it.

I fell by the wayside, lacking the will to move.

My search has dried.

I am as dust.

Let the wind carry me on her wings.

The journey is at an end.

 

 

I’d miss you if you let me

I seldom think of you.

My will and my spirit combine to rid those memories but---

But on occasion I am tired—

lonely and sad.

My mind drifts—and I remember.

How we made love.

How we walked hand in hand.

How we laughed and I cry.

My heart has a little corner with your name—

and I miss you.

I’d miss you if you let me.

When my control slips I drift back and look at our love I wonder why.

Why we lost.

Know that I can never go back.

Never.

But still I wonder.

Why.

My mind drifts until I regain my composure.

Drifts upon the memory.

I’d miss you if you let me.

 

 

I love you and I’m sorry

Some say that for me the time has come,

finally and eventually to this point.

The truth was there.

Reality glared out its bright light.

So I hang my head and loose the tear of sorrow.

I love you and I’m sorry.

I know now what pressure I put on you.

How I tried and failed and failed once more to win your love.

The grief will never pass,

it will only be replaced by others on to it forever,

as will love.

Time or others or new love and loss will not cure these,

only move the focus.

Once they are here, in my heart,

they are a part of me forever.

So to this wondrous woman do I say a final word.

My heart is forever thine, should you chance it or no.

And I love you and I am sorry.

 

 

Lets Speak No More of It.

I am parched.

Dry and barren.

This hot wind so overwhelms my soul that

 my whole life is cracked and desolate.

I stand on the plain that is time.

My future stretches out,

my past a dim mirage behind.

I am empty.

The only voice that I hear is that mocking laughter

that is the wind.

Here and there dust devils appear and whirl by.

Briefly touching my life.

But as are all things, they are fleeting.

I can no more.

But do.

I try no more but will.

I search no more but will look again.

It is at an end.

All lives slip away, spent and exhausted.

So ends the journey.

 

 

 

Ballad of the Prisoner of Hell

It begins as do all tales,

once upon a time...

Once upon a time the man laughed.

He sat in his chair and looked at his life, laughing.

Pictures on his mantle,

loves come and gone,

laughing.

The day---

the day began bright and cheery,

although his thoughts never strayed far from his mantle.

And if they did, his heart reminded him,

sitting like a husk in his breast.

Now dead.

Wasted.

Worn out.

So what was left,

only to laugh.

No that his life was funny—

but farcical.

Yes.

That is the answer.

The essence of humor.

The phone rang—it doesn’t matter.

So the footfalls continue, back and forth.

Ground recovered again.

So he finds humor where none is or should be.

These things he laughs at one after another

usually are the most dear.

But he can only play the cards he is dealt.

This man.

He gazes down and shakes his head and laughs.

So strange is this world, he tells himself, so strange.

The more he tries, the less he succeeds,

the less he tries , the less he---

Always he wants run.

Away.

From here.

There.

Her.

Them.

Himself.

No.

D****t, that’s impossible!

There is nothing to wipe clean the slate.

No matter how hard he tries, the stains, the grief.

It all stays.

(He laughs)

His laughter fills the empty house.

But nothing fills his empty soul.

All is not lost for there is nothing left to lose.

He sees no recourse but to just exist.

Exist in this life that has been handed over to him.

Hopelessness is a state of hope.

He is in a state of resignment.

This is the way of things.

This is what life has become.

So he tilts back his head,

his eyes brim with useless, meaningless tears.

Tears for no one.

For nothing.

He puts his head back and laughs.

For no one.

Not even himself.

 

 

A Short Poem

Moments.

Come and recede.

In and away again.

But love.

When it comes, it rushes.

When it flees, it severs.

Rips.

Tears.

My soul.

Oh, come again, love.

I am healed.

 

 

I wasn’t lonesome ‘til you left me alone.

The phone rings dead.

I stare at the thing, numbly.

Nothing.

No voice, welcomed and soft replies.

I look around isolated.

Moments tick by, lengthening.

I wasn’t lonesome ‘til you left me here alone.

The television offers no comfort, reruns, nothing of interest.

My mind drifts, searching for something to occupy the empty space.

Space left by your silence.

I struggle to fill this void.

But nothing aids me.

I wasn’t lonesome ‘til you left me alone.

I don’t want this any more.

No more, I say.

This loneliness tires me.

The pain of my isolation wears at my resolve.

Again I go to that well of willpower and dip,

the bottom edges closer, cloudy.

Nothing improves this life.

It just moves on.

A tide of empty days,

followed hard upon by barren nights.

No comfort save my pillow,

it offers next to none.

This world I’m in drifts.

I wasn’t lonesome ‘til you left me alone.

 

 

Surrender

Okay, I’ll admit it.

Once.

That’s all the satisfaction you’ll get.

Nothing more.

No calls.

Or letters.

No card for Christmas.

No forlorn valentines.

I’ll never drive by your house.

Never look for your car at work.

I’ll just say it once.

Once is all you’ll get.

So here it comes.

Ready or not.

Enjoy your petty victory.

While it lasts.

Here goes.

D****t, I miss you.

There. Happy now?

 

 

MotherSea, Father Sky.

The lines stretch out before me,

off into the distant horizon.

Blue complimenting blue.

One reflecting the other.

One moving currents like its opposite.

I stand at the edge, staring out.

She rolls toward me, soft hisses as the water foams.

He moves above clouds whisper by.

Fading in and out.

The air changes.

The world breathes.

These two giants soften my world.

She lulls me with her whispers.

He entices me with his expanse.

They are both eternal, changing and growing.

Points of contact.

Methods of centering.

A calm point, each of them in my storm.

 

 

This Former You.

The mirrored windows reflect back a memory,

tinted, faded and dim.

I smile through the forming tears.

And wonder.

Where we were.

Why’d it end.

This face I see is not truly what was.

These memories I have are not the truth.

Who I search for does not exist.

She’s gone for all time.

Never to pass this way. Again.

This former you.

She was a dream.

Someone I thought I’d found.

A beauteous spirit inhabiting my lonely world.

But as the dream cracked.

As dawn approached.

She faded.

The lines of her reality, my fantasy, the truth blurred.

And so.

She is gone for all time.

All that I posses are memories.

Real or dreamt.

A picture of love gone away.

Out of reach.

Never forgotten.

This memory.

This former you.

 

 

Comfort

Ease back into my arms,

close your tired eyes.

Let our breaths merge as one.

No troubles, no sorrows,

no pain nor world.

Just us.

Let the fire warm your body,

let my love warm your soul.

As yours does mine.

As the ocean crashes outside

and the misty rain patters at the window,

know that all my life I have prayed, wished,

hoped and longed for this moment.

There is nothing outside this room.

Our love transcends us outside of time.

Listen to the misty rain fall outside.

Watch the fire’s warm glow,

feel my heart and my arms, love and encircle you.

You are all to me—

take a deep breath and ease back.

 

 

Lament to the Heavens

Late night.

I lie back and wonder, why-

when.

If ever.

If ever I’ll see a face.

Hold a hand.

Embrace a body.

Hear soft words of love.

 If ever.

Cry for me, heavens, for my tears have run dry.

My grief has run its course.

All that is left are other things.

Pursuits other then love.

For love has given me nothing.

Nothing but angst.

So I push it away.

For its pain is something I can do without.

All this—s**t—clouds my world.

My vision needs to be cleared.

Not marred by emotions that injure my soul.

All though I try to love I am stopped at every turn.

By.

Fate.

Luck.

Karma.

God.

Whomever or whatever has denied me.

So.

Late at night.

I lie back and wonder.

Cry for me, heavens.

For the world is losing a soul that wants to love.

Needs to love but can’t.

so heavens cry for me for my love’s run dry.

I am no more.

No woman to blame.

Each one has taken a piece.

Some bigger.

Some a sliver.

But all add up to my soul or what’s left.

Not a great deal.

Cry for me, heavens.

I am at the border,gazing into no man’s land.

Desolate, barren and alone.

I go there willingly but with a heavy heart.

For it is a shame that I am lost.

Lost and alone.

A prisoner of myself, sentenced to serve life in solitary.

Without possibility of love.

Cry for me, heavens.

My love is dead.

She never came or left without knocking.

The home remains empty.

I sit alone in its rooms.

I can no more and will not again.

 

 

The Fool

“Ah, what fools these mortals be.”

I count myself as one.

Hail to the King, court jester in one.

Dancing round in his silly hat and tights.

Mask of false joy is all he wears.

As the stage is lit and the curtain goes up,

he dances to please the crowd.

But the applause does not warm his heart.

All thru the acts, he whirls and flips.

Trying to please but hoping still for a partner

in his new one man show.

But monologues are all he’s given.

No dialogue, or duets fill the house.

The fool dances on,

tears are covered with sweat so no one notices.

He can frown behind the mask as long as he performs.

Encore! Encore!

Look at the dancing fool!

Alone on the stage.

Curtain.

 

 

Failing hopes, foolish dreams

The fabric of my life unravels--

I see chances that don’t exist.

Look for signs to mis-interpret.

Laugh at myself for antics that make no sense.

 

Failing hopes, foolish dreams.

The fabric of my life unravels, tattered and frayed.

 

I don’t see why I put myself through this.

Leave my heart bare to be wounded again and again.

I set my soul up as a foil for love,

and this is the life,

mine that I have.

 

Failing hopes, foolish dreams.

The fabric of my life unwinds.

 

As the threads are laid bare,

nothing is left.

No future is looked for,

just the specter of a grievous past.

Love’s game down the long corridors of time.

Images haunt my nights and

bear down on me in the sunlight.

 

Failing hopes, foolish dreams.

My life unwinds, always and forever.

 

With loves like that.

Now I am at an end.

The wellspring of joy have dusted.

Time have finally won over his victim.

I have embraced the truth,

laying down with the rotten corpse that was my heart.

I hear the fibers of that old life leak away.

I raise up to howl my grief at the moon.

Fears and darkness follow themselves.

Blackest night carries me all day.

Try as I might, I can’t leave myself.

Running in a circle, with a mirror in front,

one behind.

I hear terror calling me to that end.

Sorrow and loneliness sit up with me all night.

My skull echos with lost wonderment.

As a screaming, crying fool I entered.

Thus do I request that end.

Seems only appropriate.

‘Cause with loves like that I’d rather have death.

 

 

Lost

That is me.

I’ve lost.

Surrendered.

Given up.

Truce.

Don’t ask.

I can’t .

Won’t.

No strength.

Nothing.

I’ve lost.

Fine.

Hands in the air.

Its all yours.

No argument from me.

None.

I’m done.

That’s all-

End.

 

 

If time were a friend.

Listen to me as I speak of such things.

Endless days and rolling nights when life was young.

Every object that was held, a mystery unbridled.

The passionate life was all we could take,

all we could use and seemed to endlessly flow.

Years went on of frolicking friends,

swaying hands o’er tall grass.

Hide and seek in the trees.

The winter’s snow held fascination like none we’ve known.

The sun sparkled and glittered, burning our eyes.

But days of youth moved faster,

this time, hours are gone,

slipped away---away.

I look back and wonder as the days sprint to years.

How fast it seems now.

How slow it did then.

There are times I know not who I am.

Why I do some things that are evil.

Things I abhor, yet are that are part of me,

so why---

Why must these thing intrude on my world.

That I can not answer.

But the battle for control of my soul rages.

It rages on and forever.

Each side pairs off,

staring at the other and the prize: me.

Strangely I am the foes and the prize.

The sanity I seek is the unreached goal.

This ring of brass that both sides long to posses--

win, lose or draw.

Winner take all.

There is no prize for second place.

 

 

Eyes.

Deep brown.

They see through me.

Framed by an exquisite face.

Eyes.

Soft shone as they smile.

Smile at me.

Do that forever.

I stare at those eyes and swoon.

My heart quivers as knees weaken.

My soul belongs to her when she looks upon me,

with those eyes.

Deep brown.

See me, eyes.

See that love that I show.

Let me see into that soul that I long for.

Show me that heart that loves.

Deep, brown eyes.

 

 

Still soft comes the night

Sun fades west.

Last glow lingers.

Twinkle on stars,

one follow before.

Venus rises brightly over head.

Orange to purple then black covered over.

The birds chirp soften.

The crickets begin their chorus,

echoing in the still air.

Low cries the dove,

somewhere far off.

The night sits.

Heavy and quiet,

resting from the day.

A tense breeze rustles the trees.

It fade, returns, moves another way.

Long is the blackness.

Cool is the moment.

Still soft comes the night.

 

 

Michelle

Oh, how I love to speak your name.

Stare into your eyes.

How your laugh brightens my world.

Long time had I wondered when I would see

a joyous woman again.

You came to me, speaking in velvet tones.

The flowing hair excites my eyes.

Your smile, your form excites my heart.

I look upon you daily .

Tremble when you are near.

Think of you always when I am away.

Your touch is the soft petal of a rose.

Your smile is the shining sea.

Your eyes the deep brown of the wood.

And beauty.

Your beauty is like none I’ve ever seen.

Not will again.

Touch me.

Smile at me.

Look at me.

For you,

Michelle,

You are the one that I have looked for.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Ice Queen of the Vampir..]

Wow.....these pieces are great. Painful, sad, and written so well you can feel the emotion. Wonderful descriptions throughout. Awesome work!!!

Heather