Lost

                                       
  For Agata, who has always inspired me with words such as these.


Lost


His touch like summer upon your skin
No place you’d rather be,
Waken in dawn’s early light
To find it’s all a memory.

Did he call you baby
Write your name deep in the sand,
Explain the things you never knew
Or didn’t understand.
Did he chase away the lurking ghosts
Of lovers from another day
As you surrendered to him completely
And got carried away.

Was he just another shadowed hope
Or The One dressed in disguise,
Among the incidents and accidents
You got tripped up in his lies.
Did he call you his sweet darlin’
While he looked into your eyes
As each and every heart beat
Echoed his goodbyes.
Just what is it makes a man
Turn his back I cannot say,
You got lost on his horizon
And were carried away,
Just carried away.

And the days roll by like freight trains
Speeding down a wrong way track
Try to still the memories in your head
But there ain’t no turning back.
All along you somehow knew
You’d breathe for yourself one day.
Swept up like debris caught in his tide
As you got carried away,
Carried away.

Now you stand on higher ground
In a place where you belong,
Took some time to find yourself
But you were with you all along.
All the love you hold inside
Someone will see one day,
Then I’ll watch the words fall off your page
That you‘ve been carried away.

I’ll sit upon that shore again
And watch you carried away.

Darkness

Darkness


Until that night I dared follow
When you thought me not around,
To the shadowed place where you retreat
To play within your darkness.

Silent through midnight’s blue,
Night fell cool upon your breast
Nightgown clinging, hair blown by untamed gale.

Rage of frail curtains blown tattered upon your window,
Tossed asunder.

And I, your eyes averted,
Silently mirrored your descent down spiral stairs.
Brushing aside cobwebbed memories
With each cautious step.

You asked aloud for someone there,
No one answered but the night.
And within your windblown heart
I wonder if you remembered
That I once swept through there too.

Daybreak peered through gaping floorboards.
And huddled in a corner,
Knees pulled to chest
You did not stir.
Nothing but to hold silent vigil
Until you were ready
To face the light again.

If I close my eyes
Will you take me to your hiding place
Where you mend pieces of your shattered past,
In those quietest of hours
Lit by memories of brighter days
And a more hopeful tomorrow?




Photo credit here.

Mindscape

How to not think you a poem,
When your words give rhyme to uncertainties?
How to not think you a song,
When you harmoniously resonate through the mind?
How to not think you a bird,
When you fly unencumbered by life's gravity?
How to not think you nature's fury,
When like a gale you stir the soul?

How to not think you?

 
 
 
Photo credit here

Reflecting

You were my 'first', my best. I never knew unconditional love until you came along. I shared all my deepest secrets, you never told anyone. You listened when I was upset, never once interrupted and kept the same knowing smile on your face always. We shared my bed every night and snuggled close through the best and worst days. You kept me warm and comforted, and always loved me back.

Every day was fun. We knew it couldn't last, that the world wasn't made for us to be together long. And when the day came that I had to let you go, cast you aside, I think you knew why. You came into my life for a reason and were a huge part of who I became. And although we've long since parted, please always remember.
You were the best teddy bear a boy could ever ask for.

I've heard some intense things this past week, so my mind's taking a break here for a while. We all lose our innocence in life, some lost it too soon. This is for you.

If

If you want to make a difference don't move mountains, move people.



Photo credit here .

The Music Man

I hope this doesn't bum you guys out too much, but I've been going through some of my older writing (back to Grade One actually) and came across this piece.

When I was younger a friend of our family passed away from cancer. I didn't know him extremely well, that is to say I don't remember a lot about him now except he was taken too soon, as always seems the case.

Peter was a gentle family man, a musician who loved to sing and play guitar with his band. I wrote this a week before my 22nd birthday; it was really for his entire family but inspired by the emptiness I saw in his young daughter's eyes. I've always found writing to be therapeutic; I guess I wrote this to help me deal with seeing her like that, which if I'm honest upset me even more than his passing.


The Music Man

The music man appears on stage
The song begins to play,
The night burns on, each note each page
We know he's here to stay.

The people seemed happy for the chance
To watch him for a while
I felt his warmth shine as I danced
And saw it in his smile.

But tonight the stage is silent
The singer's now at rest,
There was one song yet to be played
And God made His request.

And now your eyes seem lifeless
As I look at you through mine,
A deep and dark cold emptiness
But a little light still shines.

For though he gave you love in life
And taught you how to care,
He brought some of the love you learned
To hold onto up there.

I still can hear his music;
In his music was his heart.
So if you can think of him and sing
You'll never be apart.

And though I know he left too soon
Please be strong my friend,
Because however beautiful the tune
Every song must end.




God Bless, Peter.



   

Photo credit here

Colours

                                               

Greet dawn's break with stormy eyes.
Heart pounding,
Mind restless, and wild.

Throughout the night
Memories of The One
Held you captive in their grasp, relentless.
Like a book you can't put down,
Or the forever echo of a lover's beckon
On a fire escape at midnight.

But memories cannot be held nor protected.
They run like watercolours in the rain
Bleeding into one another
Until they're left unrecognizable, distorted and dark.

Perhaps the answer lay
Not in struggling to preserve
These most precious of moments
But in our ability
To paint each day anew.
 
 


Photo credit here.