Tag Archives: Nature

Dreaming of Italy, But I Don’t Speak Italian

In your dreams you can be anyone, be anything, do anything, go wherever you want. Why then, in my dreams, am I me? Why then, in my dreams, am I me and I am with you? Not to Italy, not to Spain, but trees and parks in Cincinnati. A place of hills and dreams tucked so neatly into the cusp of the Ohio river. My heart is here and so far away. Perhaps I’ll even find it again.

A Rose By Any Other Name

Decidedly pithy

Not such a pity

Two houses

You and I

In fair Cincinnati

Alike in serendipity

Find yourself a part

An actor, an actress

We’re putting on a play

You’ve been cast

In iron

Unmoving

Fettered by nature

Much like a bronze bust

Perfection in antiquity

Opposite me

If you only you could see

The part you have to play

Maybe then we’ll find our way

Two leads

Pro-consuls of that fallen republic

There abound the seeds

On a path we find oblique

Slanting at an angle

That makes it hard to speak

Outta Time?

It seems I’ve always got more time. Always got something to look forward to. Never let myself run out of time. The clock is always ticking, or is it? Always seeing a way forward, gotta avoid the obstacles!

Just a Couple

Ephemeral feelings of floating

Wasn’t sure, never sure

Someone speaking, someone gloating

Doctor, please… Have you the cure?

Head spinning

Don’t be late

Little Alice, down the hole, hair is thinning

You, my friend, are missing a very important date

Needed somewhere

Never there

Looking down, a single tear

Sew it up, up the stair

Spooling wire

Always tired

Hear the spirit arcing through

Think of someone, couple’s two

Heart of Stone, Breast of Glass

So you’ve looked upon the very thing I spoke of before? So you’ve made the effort? You’ve seen this heart of stone and found it wanting? Wanting what? Where’s your answer? Where’s mine? I can’t tell you the right one, but I’ll certainly tell you one:

Alchemist

Songs float around my head

Think of words they’ve said

Lying wide awake

Transmute gold from lead

Many times you are warned

Many times we are torn

Pricking simple sentences

From the base of a thorn

From the heart, a sliver shorn

Ein Herz aus Stein

A heart of stone

Final patch’s been sewn

To hide away the chiseled heart so far from home

Sing your somber songs

Pray upon the peddled pillory

Climb inside the cold confessional

Not so private… not so safe

Between you and He

A bet you’re willing to make?

Challenge must you undertake.

If It Wasn’t For The Mist…

Good morning! I have a poem today that was inspired by something very dear to me. The one thing that may in fact be responsible for my accession to the title of “Writer”. Fee free to throw out guesses in the comments as to what I’m referencing. I read every one. Without further ado:

The Rite

Ticking tock

Countenance of the clock

In your hands a mirror

In your eyes, a watch

Sitting there

Something queer

What’s that? Just off the pier?

See so far away the light

Never sure in black of night

Whether you or vision’s right

Can’t tell

So overpowering, the smell

Coming from the swell

Pardon me

That’s just the sea

Though still you’ll have to pay the fee

Do you know the price?

Did you roll the dice?

Asking, asking… Not very nice…

To fear a feeling felt so foul

Makes you think to throw the towel

Please just now, secure the dowel

Composed before some ghastly sight

Hide yourself from trick and slight

Gather your things, prepare the rite

Reminisce and Recall

Afternoon. Nothing I write here feels quite right. That’s about how I feel right now. Like I’m trying to remember something but I can’t quite do it. I can’t quite manage to find the room that memory lies in, walking down the halls of that castle in my mind, seeing all those forgotten portraits and paintings of things I’m hiding away. Seeing the door at the end of the hall that I know not to open. I don’t think I’m ready for what’s inside.

Dreams and Memories

Fading fast to sleep

Try, try again

Try and take the leap

Think of birds, a wren

Owls on the walls

Hooting, hooting

Picking at my flaws

A path by a pond

Fallen trees

Memories far away

And closer still

Too many pieces

Not enough glue

Renew the leases

Not something new

Panthers playing rock n roll

Dancing to the music

Lying next to vampires

On the floor

Little whining dogs crying at the door

Bring me back to Zion

Promised land to die on

Make me tea from the dandelion