A year here, a year there
So often I long for freer air
Yet pine here, there
A year is not small
Not short. Not when time’s all
We have, at times
So I look to tomorrow
Not to next year, next decade in sorrow
To tomorrow
And a bright sunrise
Category: Free Verse
6/22/2021 – not the one
I look about and find
Every happiness
And yet my soul cries out:
This place is not the one
6/19/2021 – only one
When night takes my mind
I dream a thousand dreams
And live a thousand lives
And when I wake
For a moment, sadness takes me
That for now I live only one
Ere dawn
Ere dawn I watch your breath
Rising and falling
Soft
Peaceful
Your eyes closed so easy
Free of the dreams of day
And I think how wondrous it would be
To kiss your cheek
Warm
Orange in the morning light
How do I dream?
How do I dream
Of places
I have never been?
How do I dream
Of people
I have never seen?
How do I dream
Of lives
Long lost to time?
When my heart proved right
Without a sound did my heart warm
To new, exciting, tender change
The likes of which did take a form
I’d not thought of before
And though it was frightful, unknown
My heart did say to rest a while:
“Let what’s been reaped so too be sown,
And love will grow yet more.”
And so years on my heart’s proved right;
Unfounded were my fears;
Its words I hear now in new light
With open, eager ears
Lament of the dayjobber
So oft I turn, in light of day,
T’ward vibrant, new imaginings
Off on a quest does my mind stray
Far from mundane, dull, lesser things
Throughout the morning do I weave
A story on my mind’s tableau
Filled with a fantasist’s reprieve
From worldly winds that twist and blow
In afternoon, my inner eye
Wanders to distant, wondrous lands
Where heroes walk and dragons fly
Above some other shore’s bright sands
Alas that in the night, my mind,
So weary from the long day’s work,
Struggles in memory to find
The stories ‘mongst the tired murk
6/11/2021 – gazing at the horizon
For what do we so often pine
When we gaze at th’horizon line?
6/10/2021 – twenty-first
O, hie ye quick to safer shores
Away from those with evil mores
Those who would snap up all the earth
Then deign complain o’er lack of mirth
6/9/2021 – the movers
Hurried wanderers bereft of coin
With naught but tales and stories for to tell
They are the movers of thought
A Poem A Day 