The Hummingbird’s Flight

 

All roads are merely visitations..

Fascinating and warm,

Passing affiliations.

But in the end is Only Home,

The place I already know.

I carry it with me – this fragile branch,

A patchwork piece – of the larger dance.

The still days perched over and ever along his path.

In sound, a stream, standing in showers of remembering -

A song that‘s so familiar and certain,

tossing and turning -

To quilt the seamless dream.

It is something to search for,

Depart from, collapse within.

It is complete and lost and found.

Eternity in arms wrapped round.. me.

There is no end in sight once you’ve landed, see?

And now in flight I sing to wish that Home

inside myself..   goodnight.

Posted: July 16th, 2008 under my poetry, Soliloque on Gabriel (poetic journey).
Comments: 2

Like A Painting..

he sits – leaning to the side.

His lips supple and red, parted slightly

as if to suggest he’s ready to be kissed.

Skin like porcelain – and soft as silk.

Black hair and dark eyes that echo

the dark inside.

Whimsical his backward stance.

Intoxicating this photograph.

Something held and holding within me

the light inside.

A candle for him,

That moment between sleep and waking.

That first taking in of every breath.

Each aperture of my eyes adjusts,

flicker and gaze

Into him..

Like a painting on the canvas of where my happiness lives.

Posted: July 14th, 2008 under my poetry, Soliloque on Gabriel (poetic journey).
Comments: none

There is a pain that stretches out over the eons, a constant unease, a weight that follows at your side – always a reminder that you are alive.

There is a love that cannot be altered, a hope that waits eternally in your heart’s backpocket, whispering, wondering – will we ever arrive?

There is a life that must be lived, a hundred songs to be sung, sighs to be filled with every gasp and release of reaching and holding to the only way we know how to exist.

Posted: June 25th, 2008 under my poetry, Soliloque on Gabriel (poetic journey).
Comments: 1

Stumbling down over the page – words spill out,

Loose threads of my unraveling head.

 

My heart hestitates than lays down a heavy beat with a thud.

Blood and oxygen flood, 

So why is it hard to breathe?

 

ZZzsleepless night – too much to write.

Deadlines, work, work and not enough.

Axe to grind, hitting the pavement without a dime.

Balls in the air fly and dash as I desperately juggle -

To keep them there, life in order, moving forwards

Right above my reach.

 

What’s wrong with me?

I peek into my psyche,

Feeling a funk coming on.

How can I compete with chemical affairs –

The sultry powdery lady -

and those down to earth Mary’s of the every day sort.

How is it that I become so easily replaced?

 

Is my dopey love not holding a charge or a candle to that flame?

Can’t you see there’s too many of us in this bed?

“Roll over, roll over” so many times my lover has said.

How tired I’ve become from sleeping too long on the floor 

where I thought waking had begun.

 

You hand me your line and slip.

Shock waves again, a tremor in my chest.

Telling me life is hard and how will you survive?

With job in hand, heavy load to bear as you stride

Towards that fine white line.

Inhaling time – a weekend that tells me 

You don’t know what’s really on the line.

 

We both see it in the sand,

You and me – separated by this series

Of dashes strung out together, 

Chosen sides of a dried up ocean that we sipped

Until it soaked and softened our insides.

Posted: May 1st, 2008 under my poetry, Soliloque on Gabriel (poetic journey).
Comments: none

The fallen angel, Gabriel, still visits my head.  He scatters seeds in my heart. And I must keep weeding.  For my garden to grow.  I do not wish to have happy memories of him.  They do not serve me well.  I do not wish to feed the monster within who waits for tiny morsels of must forgotten hymns.  No music please.  It makes me dream.  No crumbs on my path to lead me starving.  You clipped my wings, but they grew back.  Now your visitations delay my flight.  I cannot hover in the longings of my must forgotten.  From miles away he mocks the sun.  From miles away he beats his drum.  From miles away he sings so sweet and pours his poison once more.  I am tossed and thrown.  My heart keeps washing up on the same shore.  To empty my memories on the sand. To sing alone.

Posted: March 2nd, 2008 under Soliloque on Gabriel (poetic journey).
Comments: 1