And Then We Walked Away

We could have talked it over
Worked through fears
Gaps in understanding
It seemed too much work
Prying at old walls
That made it possible for us
To remain aloof from the fact that
The house was falling down
Around our ears
We hadn’t sense or
Wherewithal enough to
Save ourselves and all we’d built
So we stopped talking
We turned our backs on one another
And then we walked away

M.B. – November 2009

Pensamientos de un Pescador

Attached by a small hook
Hangs the brightly colored painting
By the artist whose name is no longer recalled
That inspired such joy each day
Upon opening the eyes that it was carried
From home to home, city to city,
Even though the joy was no longer there
When gazed upon with the eyes
The soul pondered the losses – so many losses
Attached to the times, the places, the people, the spaces
Where the bright colors brought joy
Now… nothing

M.B. – November 2009

Despacio

Instead of
Rushing away from
The love we’d lost
Like the rapid current of the
Yellow River
That curves behind the neighbor’s house
Under the overpass and
Along side the cemetery
We meandered
Out of each other’s lives
More like
Bayou St. John
En route to the lake
Motion barely perceptible to the untrained eye
Which upon first glance
Would not likely notice the flow
Or imagine any movement at all
From bayou to lake
To canal to river
To gulf and finally
Out to sea

M.B. – November 2009

1. Write an explosion poem.
2. Write an implosion poem.

Without Warning

Implosion of the soul generally occurs without warning. – m.b.

It was so sudden
I did not anticipate
The extraordinary pain
From the gaping hole
In the center of my chest
Where my heart once sat,
I thought, safely nestled
Inside my rib cage
Cradled gently in soft tissue
And muscle until the day
I understood
That you never loved me and
Never would and
All those years
Of trying to be good
Didn’t soften your heart but instead
Bred distain
So you could easily rip
Mine to shreds over and over
From childhood ‘til now
Until finally
The light dawned
– not like soft candlelight
But like sticks of dynamite
Strategically placed
To cause my soul
To collapse onto itself

m.b. – November 2009

Clouds the Mind

Nebulous, dark storm clouds of thought
That in another space and time
Would have incited riotous rebellion
Now cloud the mind with fear, anxiety, self-doubt
Driving self-destructive pursuits
Wine, rum, sweets, and … ah yes… sweets
Light finally breaking through
Confusion giving way to meditation, prayer, peace

M.B. – November 2009

I encourage you to join me in the quest for our inner poets by participating in the November 2009 PAD Chapbook Challenge or at least enjoying some of the lovely poetry written by other participants.

Peace.

M.B. – November 2009

Waiting

Hanging
Like the bed sheet
Out on the line
Longer than necessary to
Dry in the summer breeze
Flailing on the line
Day turning to twilight
Twilight to night
Waiting for dawn

M.B. – November 2009

Laugh Lines

His face was still the same
Kind of, sort of
Harder-edged than I remembered
Formerly smooth
Now with deep creases
At the sides of the mouth
Except when he laughed
Really laughed

Then the boy, no – young man, I knew
Shined through
Glinting brown eyes
Tiny laugh crinkles at the corners
Harsh lines transformed
Almost their former selves
For just a moment of
Unrestrained joy

M.B. – November 2009

As the Sun Rises

In solitude but not alone
Between prayer, sleep, and vision
Learn ancient tongues
Secret lessons
Of herb, water, and spirit
The power of word
Oaths of silence
Strength renewed
Faith reinvigorated
Re-enter the world of mankind
As the Sun rises to
Meet the new you

M.B. – November 2009

If Only the Possibilities Were Not Endless

If only the possibilities were not endless
I would not be able to imagine
All the tiny and great things that
Pass through my mind each day we do not speak.
Was it the careless remark I made that day?
Or, was it the time I didn’t answer the phone
When you called because
I was cleaning the bathroom and
Didn’t hear the phone ring?
Or was it the ex-girlfriend
Who looked you up on Facebook and
Started reminiscing about those old college days?
Or was it the ex-wife?
It could have been the ex-wife.
Or, could it be that I shared too much
Too soon and didn’t make great efforts
To hide my flaws because it seemed
Disingenuous to pretend that I was perfect
When, well, who is?
Maybe you were abducted by aliens?
Wishful thinking, perhaps.
If you were abducted by aliens, then I could
Put to rest all the amazing, and not so amazing,
Ideas that pass through my restless mind.
If only the possibilities were not endless.

M.B. – November 2009