Stolen Heart (A Poem)

Stolen Heart

heart-on-fire

I find it amusing

the notion that you stole my heart

like a bandit who crept in while I slept

and pocketed

my greatest treasure.

 

This heart?

This living, pulsing sun

that makes flowers bloom

and hastens the birth of Spring?

 

As if fingers could grasp it, resist

its flames

As if it were something one could possess

like a jewel, left unguarded

 

My heart can no more be stolen

than the current stolen from the river.

My heart can belong to no one

any more than the stars belong to the night.

 

What you hold now

that which slipped from clumsy fingers

or is kept dusty on a shelf

or perhaps was hung on your wall to admire

is merely a relic

a crystal glass filled with the golden water

I poured for you

from the precious fount that still beats within me.

 

It was always yours to spill

or shatter

or drink.

But whatever you choose, know

that my heart is full

and will fill your glass again and again

and yet again

until you understand true love

until you know forgiveness.

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Two Small Words (a poem)

Today

The universe breathed your name

(the car you drive

the foods you eat

a sport you love)

and two small words

Hey you.

So tiny, innocent

written by the wrong hand

but in my mind

your voice

as clear as a summer sky

shines over the desert

that familiar lilt and cadence

Hey you.

The sweet, sharp heartache

of missing home

tiny razor nicks

Hey you.

Your strong arms around me

the wind carrying your scent

on two words

like wings

Duende and Honey (a poem)

Duende and Honey

music headphones listen

Today I give you music.

Melodies

to make your spirit

rise

and

 sink

Harmonies like feathers stroking fur

rains pelting earth under glowing sun

stars streaking against inky blackness

I give you the old songs

that curl around you

warm

like mother’s blanket

honeyed tea

to soothe your weary soul

I give you drumbeats

tapping

pounding

thrumming

dancing with your heart

I give you fingers stroking strings

playing shivers

along your spine

and lyrics

golden poetry

to shine in your darkest places

duende

to stoke forgotten fires

words to cure

words to lift

words that sail across this vast sea that

divides us

and whispers my name

Wings (aka: Two Poems on a Winter’s Day)

Ode to a Caterpillar

 

Oh little caterpillar

who brought such color to the world!

How I remember

tiny fingers grasping

heavy Mason glass

swift

ready to catch, to observe

the free ones

the ones with wings

the ones who flew.

So much you learned, as you curled

safe

in your small, loved home

until today

fragile walls tearing loose

open crack of wide, wide blue

cupped in hands

to test new wings.

Oh butterfly

this world is yours.

caterpillar-to-butterfly

 

Night Angels

 

Eyes lifted toward darkened skies

strapped warm in leather womb

hushed voices mingle with

steady drone.

There I see it

flash of copper light

brief sight of wingless angel

flying in the night.

Warm sigh

fingers pressed, cold against glass

until

once more the darkness lifts

and angel glows.

One by one

on tall, steel legs

they dance

across the stars

halos burning in bronze glory

as my lashes droop

beneath watchful eyes.

street-lamps-shining

To the Infinite Power (Poetry about Quantum Mechanics)

This morning, I read a strange but fascinating article about a new theory of quantum mechanics, which suggests that parallel worlds not only exist, but that the different universes interact on the quantum level. Okay, maybe the idea is a little out there, but my mind has been savoring the thought like an odd and flavorful wine. The result? Why, a poem, of course!

infinite universe

Infinite Me

One me

walking the way I walk

on my sole path

singing thoughts that swirl like colors

toes in the sea

wild of mind, tame of heart

wishing to be loved

wanting to be free

just me.

 

Another me.

Do you walk alone, like me?

Or do we skip together

side by side

like sheep

telling a different story

with the same words?

Do you sense my presence

when we fall asleep?

 

Infinite me.

We are all the same, but not

Different times

roads that split and merged

like land, sea and sky

Do we always dance alone?

Did we learn to be loved?

Are you the better me

or am I?

The Fighter (a poem)

He doesn’t know why he does it

he doesn’t know why he tries

but he shows up strong as they throw their money down

filling the air with their cries.

Like a rock he fills his corner

eyes focused on the game

dehumanize his opponent

as the crowd screams his name

“Hit him! Hit him! Do it again!”

a feeding frenzy of cheers

so he tapes his hands and he takes his place

as they shout and wave their beers.

Then bam! Here comes the money

and bang! Here comes the fame

the sweat and blood rain down like water

till the people love his name.

Black eye, cut lip, broken jaw

his gifts always the same

then he’ll sleep alone with an empty soul

while the people dream his name.

the boxer

Empty Suitcase (a poem)

Empty Suitcase

Some people carry it all.

different journeys, different places

sunny voices, stormy faces

arms that hold and hands that hurt

every silken tattered shirt

backs droop, shoulders sag

death grip on the heavy bag

burdened weight of moments gone

and the train rolls on, the train rolls on.

She learned to travel light.

skim the stories, brief cold look

take it in, then close the book

voices blur, words grayed

people drift and memories fade

blend the gray and golden days

empty suitcase, nothing stays

mouth smiles, heart withdrawn

as the train rolls on and on and on.

lonely woman suitcase wandering