Is like a grey polyester blanket Cold from the outside Until you make the plunge Keeps the warmth in Keeps the colours out Envelopes all that walks, all that talks Until time elopes with all emotions And the grey blanket comes off revealing the colours we were too blind to see.
The rhythmic pat of the drum
and the soft touch of the piano keys
is all that’s truly stable
in a world that is abominable.
So much ill and suffering
has happened since I came here last
at least I have reassuring sound of jazz
as others elsewhere are called to heavenly mass
I wish she was here
to understand and to share my sorrow
together we’d gaze into the skies and see the moon
while breathing to the pangs of Clair de lune
Indeed, all that is stable in this world
is the sound of the piano, of kindness, of love
even if others strive for it to be smothered
human generosity and truth will prevail
All will be good in the end, they say
All that’s left for us to do is help and pray.
On a resplendent December night
I last looked upon you in a resplendent way
the thick snowflakes, a glorious sight
they fell on your perfect eyelashes, blinking them away.
This little poem is a search for closure of sorts
and I will not reflect upon you like so no more;
despite the pain, the sadness that contorts
my soul, my joy, all bruised, bandaged now, still sore.
We spun around on the dance floor like two fireflies
glowing in the dim cold winter, bright—
your laugh, your eyes, your hair, my heart cries
such raw, unblemished, naked emotional might.
For a fleeting moment I allowed myself to entertain
a future, in sync, waltzing, laughing together
of which now must an icy memory remain
not should our paths cross, for the better?
Your inner and outer beauty shone like a pale rose
and I understood the predicament you lied before
and, for the better like this, I suppose
this final cry, this final poem for you—and no more.
When you voiced your reflected thoughts—
it is as if all winter stood perfectly still around
snowflakes frozen on your lashes like catapults
shaking, crumbling, melting my ground.
I did not wish to give in to hope
but hope and future joy found me nevertheless
since our profound, shared, mutual joy needn’t cope
alas we were wrong and allowed hope into this mess
But now, I have written my raw, grinding emotions for you
Yesterday, when you told me—I would have
cried you a river if it would mean us two
together, our cheeks a light, naked mauve.
This is the best way forward; but didn’t you know
how much your company meant so profoundly
I will miss the laughter, the perspective it used to show
a faded, defunct light will no longer guide me.
I will turn to other lighthouses on these December nights
but never fill I forget your resplendent sights
snowflakes on your lashes
before my heart crumbles, smashes.
This is how it should go, farewell dear friend
no use in pretending, my heart is on the mend;
good luck to my memory of you—my love is now in this poem, here
for I was forced to extinguish its inner end
this postcard of thoughts I will here write and send
and I know, I hold steadfast I will shed no tear
this is best for you and me, dear.
For months have I wondered
(the inner world)
looking this way and that,
into every fleeting, passing thing
into brief glances, briefer smiles
looking but not seeing
not feeling, not understanding
just passing.
Worrying about each and every one of those moments
and yet—there was an instant
not a dozen hours prior
in which, for the first time in weeks, even years
the emotions weren’t fleeting
nor were they leaving, nor are they now.
The harmony of all your features
not perfect, but just right
just as they should be—
that’s what made you so special.
For the first time in many a day
hope was kindled where hope was hidden
(not gone, but in hiding)
it came back, first trepidatious, then bounding!
…only to find your departure imminent…
I joked to myself that “I would move Heaven and Earth for her” only happens in poor soppy tragicomedies
For the first time (feels like maybe ever), that sentence, that thought occurred to me.
A fleetingly permanent emotion, perhaps,
true all the same.
I imagine you next to me
Although I know not who you are
Searching for somebody to see
Together our world from afar.
You’d join me by Grieg
Travelling over the undulating musical landscape
This, the very antithesis of a Krieg;
Together, from reality we would escape.
The feeling of warmth has long since disappeared
It has now been much too long
You, whoever you may be, have not appeared
The birds have not made you part of their song.
An embrace can speak a thousand words
Well, here I am resorting to the pen
In absence of emotional innards
Hope? You might as well call me a heathen.
There shall be one day when with Grieg I am not alone
Know when this day will come, I do not,
Into the life of solitude, I have grown
Waiting for you to untie this knot.
I write to you here in hope
with a right dose of sadness and a bigger one of gratitude
no trepidation to be seen.
You have walked miles round this town
many more, much further than any convention held you to go
I could see doubts swimming multifaceted
behind those glittering eyes
and I understood, I understand
I respect the respect you gave
and I hope that respect came across (I cherish it)
as you gazed at the heavens
this palindrome night
thoughts light-years away.
The lukewarm water
rubbed into my cheeks
time and time again
rushes away
washes away your smile
washes away your smell
bleaches your memory
as it tumbles away
into the drain.
The stars are out for you
your eyes shine brighter
Your golden locks shimmer
in the late winter breeze.
But I sense you distant,
behind that smile—
brumous thoughts hidden
clouding that smile.
I came here wanting nothing
but I came out wanting more
my heart yearns for loving
but it can yearn for you no more.
Tonight, you were close
so close to touch—
and to touch back,
you hesitated.
Your perfume lingers
your smile coldens
what was once technicolour
is now truly grey.
But, I gave you respect
and you gave yours
even though we can’t be happy
thoughts out of reach
like children in a museum.
No, I never loved you
but I imagined I did
I imagined what it would be like
to be together
by the fireplace
reading books
I imagined what it would be like to
caress your cheeks
and caress your insides
But alas—imagine caressing no more
not even a tender kiss
Hope is lost—if it ever were there before.