In peace the sons bury their fathers, but in war the fathers bury their sons.
You have to leave this warm state of oranges,
for a burning desert. The twenty years of service
in tattered camouflage, but fourteen years
since you finished wiping coarse sand off your boots,
does not satisfy leaders, wearing shiny suits,
starched shirts and red, white and blue
ties, sitting in clean, corner offices in the pentagon;
so they hand you orders for deployment.
On the edge of a brown couch, you lean down to knot
black shined boots, reflecting olive fingers, as you run
thin laces through metal clips. Next, you slide coat buttons
into each open hole, while your sons observe this ritual,
nervous and impatient, they ambush you with hugs;
their ages combined barely breaking eleven. You set them down,
and walk to the car with my sister;
she wraps her arms around you and squeezes.
I wrote this for a class in 2004 and is a part of bigger poem titled democracy.
Posted in Academic, Arts and Sciences, Creative, General, Heartbreak, Inspiration, POEM, Poetry, poetry 2000's, Writing
Tagged army, culture, family, job, life, military, POEM, Poetry, poetry 2000's, relationships, sister, war
I can’t paint, my words,
like a brush, depict
how I see you.
Your eyes, almond shape,
glare at me as I walk by,
content with letting me leave.
Those soft lips, usually turned
up, slope down, “see you
later” pushes it’s way out.
That face, a window,
your thoughts, clear in view
say, “never again.”
My last strokes, your shoulders
slouched, hands out of view,
body leaning away from the door.
It is tough saying good-bye, even to someone who did you wrong. Written in 2011.
Posted in Creative, entertainment, General, Heartbreak, POEM, Poetry, Poetry 2010-2020, Writing
Tagged good bye, good-bye's, painful, painting, POEM, Poetry, poetry 2010-2020's, remembering, words
I like you…but I don’t know
how to show you. I once shared
those feelings but they came out
unconfident. I like you.
I like the way you smile, it’s easy
and toned back, more of a smirk but
not like a jerk, more of a commentary
on your thoughts and calmness.
I like our interaction. It is simple,
we seem to agree on a lot. In all
of our interactions, about our class,
we accomplished and overcame obstacles.
I would like to get to know you
better. I think we could be
a great team and have fun, make
the casual observer jealous of our connection.
Maybe you know and don’t like me
the same way. I should understand
humans are attracted to different characters
of people. I might not be your type.
I like you. I am an adult male,
writing poetry like a teenager cause
I don’t know how to get
you to like me.
I wrote this for someone in one of my graduate classes, it’s just a passing fancy of a poem. Sometimes I write to get a feeling out of my system. 2012.
Posted in Creative, General, Heartbreak, Inspiration, love, POEM, Poetry, Poetry 2010-2020, Writing
Tagged cheesy, like, love, passing fancy, POEM, Poetry, poetry 2010-2020's
As the rain gently creeps down the window,
it becomes a metaphor of nature crying.
Can you help,
or do you ignore?
My friends, the birds, are lost,
the poor conditions made it difficult to soar.
Did you notice the terror in the trees
when you cut them down?
Maybe you didn’t care
that you cause so much fear.
If you would only take more than a glance,
you would see a refreshing hope,
but you never give us a chance
to use the environment as a means to cope.
Do you care about anyone but yourselves?
You’re not the only one to live.
You never answered our call.
Why? We never wanted you to give.
you could see a good glory.
It’s obvious you care about one thing:
your own story.
I wrote this in the mid 90’s. I can’t explain the way Henry David Thoreau’s writings expanded my mind, my thoughts. I read a soft cover collection of his works until it literally fell apart. I guess it reflects in the content.
Posted in Arts and Sciences, Creative, entertainment, General, Heartbreak, Inspiration, love, POEM, Poetry, poetry 1990's, Writing
Tagged care about more than you, existence, Heartbreak, Henry David Thoreau, idealistic, Inspiration, love, nature, POEM, Poetry, poetry 1990's, soaring birds
That night I held you in my arms, we looked
out the window and watched boats in the distance
as well as lights from other hotels and in the park
below us. We talked about our life, our child-
hoods, about our views on life. You told me about
reindeer food and I rambled on about something. I recall
sitting on that couch, occasionally glancing away from
outside spectacles to look at your crimson hair, your deep
green windows of eyes, displaying your excitement and those red
dots freckled on your cheeks, waiting for my lips to connect
each one. I would eventually kiss your tattoos,
but in that moment, I wanted to wrap you up
like a gift, hands folded over you like a big bow,
appreciating time we had with each other knowing
it was our present.
I wrote this in late 2012, a poem for someone I once loved. I have many of these to post, on several degrees of love and lust, found and lost.
Posted in Arts and Sciences, General, Heartbreak, Inspiration, love, POEM, Poetry, Poetry 2010-2020, Writing
Tagged Chicago, crimson hair, cuddle, freckles, kiss, life, love, POEM, Poetry, poetry 2010-2020's, red hair, tattoos
A single red rose,
with soft petals, smooth to touch,
grows in the grass.
The blooming flower,
intoxicating to inhale, wafts sweet scents
on a summer breeze.
The green stem
proudly stands upright, displaying
a crimson glow.
A golden dandelion, has curled
a path, wrapped around the green stem,
up to be near the rose. Long golden
limbs held firmly, yellow and red
pressed together, to the exuberant
petals of the blooming Dame De Coeur.
I wanted to remove
the intrusive dandelion
from the glowing rose
but could not do so
the integrity of the rose.
I stood up, leaving
I have been working on this one since 2012. I’m on a fifth edit, still not completely what I’m shooting for but close.
Posted in Arts and Sciences, Creative, entertainment, General, Heartbreak, Inspiration, love, POEM, Poetry, Poetry 2010-2020, Writing
Tagged bloom, dandelion, delicate, flower, flowers, Inspiration, intertwined, love, POEM, Poetry, relationships, rose
I am the poet, writing words that spill
from my brain like a vial of ink
helplessly knocked over, dripping/
blotting onto a white sheet of paper
in sections. Each verse forming a metaphor,
simile or description about my thoughts and
feelings. I want to control the flow of my
consciousness but ideas and emotion
grip me tightly and sway the tide of rhythm.
I am the poet.
You are my muse, with your sunshine
smile that could straighten light in a black
hole and eyes that vaguely hide the fiery
spark of creation. Every time we talk
or I am in your company, your ideas, expressive
nature, vocabulary, and charming reactions
build the force inside me that attaches wires
to my creative instincts and pulls the strings
like a cable controller in a puppet show.
I am the poet and you are my muse.
You stir me to create a master piece, a verbal
painting that is equal to the Elizabeth I, Ermine
portrait. Each stanza, each line draws me
closer to completing my compelled
goal, yet, every attempt falls a stroke
or brush short. There is something that I miss,
a reason that my work can not be completed.
Perhaps, no poem I write about you can end
well, until it concludes with us
Written in 2011.
Posted in Arts and Sciences, Creative, General, Heartbreak, love, POEM, Poetry, Poetry 2010-2020, Writing
Tagged elizabeth I, for you, love, muse, POEM, poet, Poetry, poetry 2010-2020's, writer, writing