Posts Tagged ‘romance’

There I stood

Posted: September 14, 2014 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , ,

https://c2.staticflickr.com/4/3363/3257624062_4665eb2f7e_z.jpg?zz=1There I stood before the monument erected,
A fortress wall over time and space perfected.
There must have been a door when you came in,
When you locked the world away from start to fin.

I stood before it day and night awaiting,
I dared to pray and hope, beseeching
You to let me in, for just a momentary glance,
To show me what is hidden, just one chance.

For months I stood before that frozen stone
Till the ice had pierced my own heart to the bone
Till the tarnished moon had cast its final light,
And threw my soul into infernal night.

At last I walked away from that sepulcher of dreams
Where you’ve hidden all that time, it seems,
And when you shall once again emerge to see the day,
I won’t be standing there, I’d have gone away.

Perhaps I’ll never know, if it mattered much to you
That I stood so long, and for so long remained true.
Perhaps it doesn’t matter, not even just one gram,
For in that time I realized that you never gave a damn.

And should the sands of time continue, as they had
I’ll find the sun and stars, I shan’t remain this sad.
But you will never know what I tried yelling at the wall
You still won’t hear it, even if one day, it shall fall.

They sit there

Posted: September 10, 2014 in Prose
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https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4100/4742979094_a5b1bf8b64_z.jpgThey sit there on the couch, just the two of them. They ran out of small talk hours ago, yet they still sit. He glares at the steaming cup of tea that sits on the table before him. She puffs her cigarette, smoke billowing around her dark hair. He glances over at her, trying hard not to stare. She doesn’t know, he thinks to himself. No, she knows, she just doesn’t care. In the end, does it really matter? For months, she has been all he could think about. Every morning, he wished her a good day. And every night, Sweet dreams. There was nothing she could ask for that he wouldn’t do for her. Anything. For her.

He was doing just fine before her. Perfectly alright. Moved home after school. A fancy degree on the wall. A job lined up. Even the car was working. Every day was simple. Functional. Like a clock. His life operated like clockwork. Up at 6, work at 8, off at 6, two hours at the gym, sleep, rinse, repeat. No need for differentiation. Just fine. He was perfectly alright. Then, one day, which quite frankly began just like any other, she appeared. Out of no where. No one asked her to show up. No one requested her presence. Yet, there she was. Slender, dark, fair, with bright eyes which lit the world around her. He was struck. So the adventure began.

His days still operated like clockwork, if the clocks were assembled by a team of rabbits from wonderland under the supervision of Salvador Dali himself. The monotony was broken as his days became consumed with her. All time, effort, energy, were spent. If not with her, then for her. Whether it was planning the next outing, or sitting at the coffee-house talking, she engulfed his existence.

Days passed. Then weeks. Finally months came and went. He told her she was important, of course. One should be a fool not to have noticed that. He told her he cared. He showed her with every action, every word, every breath. All she said was thank you. A simple acknowledgement. She didn’t care for him. Not the way he cared for her. Although it is rather rare that anyone care quite the way he did. He knew that. Yet he hoped for more. More than a simple acknowledgement of the fact. She told him not now. Not today. And so he thought perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps another day. There is a chance.  But the next day came, and went. And the next one after. And the months rolled on. Still he tried, to no avail.

So they sit there, on the couch. Just the two of them. They share a space. A solitary room in which they have spent the last few hours. She has told him of her troubles, without really saying anything at all. Trouble at home, difficulty in class, tough day at work. The usual tribulations of daily life. Many words exhausted, saying nothing of value at all. And he sat there, with his cup of tea in hand and listened, throwing tidbits of commentary here and there. He also said little of value. As she spoke, his head raced. It always raced, but this time it raced with sharp pangs of pain surging through his being as he ached to tell her the battles that go on inside of him. As he ached to ask her of her true battles. He cared little for the soap opera found at home and work. He wanted to know the battles of her soul. The scars that are hidden away from everyone. He wanted to break down the walls and see what is held sacred. That which is truly private. He wanted to be a part of her. Even more, he wanted her to want the same from him.

And yet they sit. In silence at last, having run out of the trivial long ago. She doesn’t want the walls to come down, he thinks to himself, after all this time, that much is clear. He glances at her again. Their eyes meet, and they both look down. He glares at the coffee. She examines the cigarette’s smoke. They are sitting on the same couch, yet they are eons apart. They are not together.  He turns away. If only, he muses, if only I had a way to tell her that she would understand. If I could open my heart to her and have her see what I have been hiding inside. If she could feel the fire, things would be different. But they just sit. The two of them on the same couch. Together, and yet both alone.

http://content-img.experienceproject.com/1338416845Twrjwf.jpgIn a little corner bistro, at  the table on the right
sat a little girl, dark hair, blue eyes,
She sat there all night.
In front of her a dark bound notebook,
A foolish boy once gave to her
lay open with a pencil dainty in her fingers crook
Pondering and thinking, she sits and scrawls about
whatever little thought will pass her
while filling her with doubt.
She never had imagined, it would one day come to this
Dilemmas, problems issues growing
Stealing her happiness and bliss.
A dozen flowers laying scattered
At that table on the right
beside them, the pieces of her heart, shattered.

The lion’s roar of thunder
Kept them up that night,
Kept them all at wonder
Stayed with them till the light
And still the rain kept falling.

He sat home by the candle writing
He only thought of her,
This was no silly fling
He dared not speak the meaning
He kept hidden in his soul
He burned and suffered through the spring
Try as he might, he didn’t dare
to share his inner feeling
Her broken heart he would try to spare.
No one should have to burn
As he was burning there
And then perhaps she’ll learn
The meaning of the longing stare
he gave her when they sat together,
While his presence she could still bare.

The lion’s roar of thunder
Kept them up that night,
Kept them all at wonder
Stayed with them till the light
And still the rain kept falling.

http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff35/lexygurl16/276916155tgFICj_fs.jpgI know.
I know you’ve heard all the clever lines before.
I know that’s why you’ve said never more.
I know the pieces are still scattered, a million pieces
I know what was left is now smoldering ashes.
I know what I ask is difficult right now.
I know distance is all decency shall allow.

I promise.
I promise my words do not stand empty
I promise I’ll be there at your every plea
I promise to fit the pieces back together.
I promise I’ll try to make it better.
I promise to put out life’s festering fires.
I promise to do whatever your happiness requires.

I say this here, I say it now
I hope you can believe it, somehow
On my face, you always put a smile,
And for you, I’ll go that extra mile
No matter the mood, bright or blue,
My dearest girl, I want to be with you.

What is hidden

Posted: April 29, 2014 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , ,

roses-04
What is hidden in flowers that are given with care
By a starstruck lover whenever he dare?
A feeling, a hope, a dream dreamt in solace
A promise, a vow, an honest open bareness,
The expression of truth which words cannot relate
The display of affection, an emotional state.
So much is given in just a few stems
Don’t take them for granted like so many fems
Appreciate each one, as though ‘twer his heart
For by giving them to you, he tore it apart.
From within his soul, he pulled it together
In hopes you’d see, you would feel and remember.
He may not have much to give, and he knows
But this is just one way his feelings he shows.

Can you hear

Posted: April 29, 2014 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Image: The Rain Room Is Unveiled At The Curve Inside The Barbican CentreCan you hear the rain outside?
It taps out the rhythm of my heart
And even in the darkest hour I can’t hide
The way I feel when we’re apart.

The clouds cover the morning rays
And somewhere a bird is calling
Perhaps soon, together we shall spend our days
There is no stopping, I have fallen.

And should you suddenly decide
You want me much the same
Then the torrent rain outside
Shall bring us joy most every day

It started with a word,
You said it when you met me
And then my world turned
So I’d like to tell you three.

That day you said “hello”
Your blue eyes smiled softly,
Now you want to go,
Too much rum in my coffee.

I never said those three.
The three words I’ve been thinking
Will they set me free?
This ship ‘s bound to sinking

Those three words are burning
Yet their meaning remains true,
And as my world ‘s turning,

Dare I say : I love you

Source: http://a.rgbimg.com/cache1nS11H/users/s/sa/sailinjohn/300/ml1eyG2.jpg

Source: http://a.rgbimg.com/cache1nS11H/users/s/sa/sailinjohn/300/ml1eyG2.jpg

I’m not a man of many words
just scrawling letters through the turns
I don’t have any clever lines for you.
As the seed grew up to be a rose
I traveled down the road I chose
And now its brought me right here next to you.

Come away with me my dearest gal
We’ll canvass the world from here to hell
Life is great so long as you are here with me.
As the night turns into day
As the colors fade revealing grey
Together we’ll discover what it means to be free.

As we sail through the darkness
I’ll be for you a guiding light.
Should we encounter evil demons,
For our lives, till death, I’ll fight.
As we battle through the lightning,
Through the thunder and the rain
I’ll cover and I’ll shield you
Through the dangers just the same

As for me you are a saving grace
A heaven found in mundane space
The angel I have always hoped was not a dream
After the dawn the grass will shine with dew
The winding road has brought me here to you
And together we shall make a winning team.

So often we walk side by side,
Wondering what the other has to hide,
Before we even dare to say a thing.
Every time you turn away,
Every word you had to say
I didn’t think the truth could sting.

(more…)

I’m Tired…

Posted: November 6, 2013 in Prose
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

“You look good today, Kevin”, Claire chirped, handing him the usual.

“I’m tired”, he said with a sigh.

Kevin, his head low, eyes staring at the drink sitting in front of him, barely glanced at her as she appraised his disposition from across the bar.

“Long day at work?” she asked.

“No, Work was fine.”

“What’s wrong then?”

She looked him over again. His suit: sharp. His shirt: Ironed. His hair and beard: neatly trimmed and kept. Kevin wasn’t here for his daily gin and tonic. Normally he came in after the gym, in jeans and t-shirt. His corporate job required business dress, but he always changed before coming in for his drink. No, she thought, something else was up here.

“Nothing”. He pulled out his cellphone and gave the screen a few taps. Shaking his head, he put it back in the front pocket of his black jacket and reached for his drink.  “Nothing at all, just tired”.

It’s more than that, thought Claire, as she continued her deductions. The cellphone was a clear clue. He was expecting something. A message from someone. In a tidal wave, the image became clear.

(more…)