Poem – “A Farewell to my Father” – Fathers – 11/20/2020

I hold
What seems to be
Time’s cruel carelessness.
A hand that masks itself
Under coats,
Though wasn’t the cold to tremble
His fingers,
But fear.

Age
Wants him to move
To a place
Where a future can prove
Everlasting.
A broken man,
A hollow man
Who stains the air with his stare,
Sunken in sickness.

Love
Moves him to a place
Where slowness breathes for him,
Fading him,
Keeping him in the arms
Of a one who knows to caress
Shoulders that bleed for shoulders,
Swipe tears that yearn for hands
Of utmost comfort.

Tides carry him
Towards seasons of cold,
Where blood can run so old.
To warmth’s remaining concealment
Of a patient son
Who can fold his arms around
His dying father,
Can set him apart from the winter.

To hope’s return
Where ongoing life
Can remain.

Poem – “Father’s Woe” – Fathers – 11/20/2020

Tiredness
Speaks more upon the sunken lips,
Than the grave to welcome him
Under the iron that has stilled
Like the halting train.
For I feel no pulse
To take him on
Past the feathers in his eyes,
Past the weather on his cheeks.
For all peace,
With every morsel of his age
Has lasted him
Until breathing moments
Come undone.

Lakes
With canoes to ripple us past
Certain moments of history,
Leak me, the pleasantry
Of a thousand more nuances
I could now favor.

With eyes cast for oceans
Of tidal waves to emotion,
I stand here,
Counting the cracks in his palms,
Forcing the storms away
From his side.

A bleeding man
Whose comfort now resides
In the wilted universe,
Of a death, where no sighs
Come unheard.

Poem – “Another of Many Pains” – Loss of a Father – 9/7/2020

Blinded, as I am
By the streams of your brightest light
Of a Heaven I know
Your screams cannot be.
It is a pain I forget
Before the face of a gracing love.
Though, a pain
I will not deplete myself of,

In recollection of arms I knew as a child
Wrapped around me for
The protection I had adored.

I will not obey darkness,
I promise you.
My love for you shines somewhere,
As words cannot always release
From a desolate current
That sometimes
Streams no water.
Upon your memory
I cry forward.

I plea,
I see
My waters running off my side,
My stains becoming a newness,
My eyes branding my hands,
My love rising against the tide.

Poem – “A Dying Father on the Back of a Wounded Woman” – Romanticism – 5/18/2020

Who do you grieve for,
When the night has no stars?

When the ice of the silent universe
Encompasses the space in your mouth,
For whom do you scream?

He died
To your satisfaction.
He bled
For your wounds.

He left,
With the wetness of your appetite,
Still remaining to dine.

I once was trapped in the four walls of a womb,
As I am trapped in the four walls of a house.
Blood smears the walls as I can barely breathe,
Let alone see
What a monster you've turned yourself.

Do you love yourself?
You will not forgive yourself
Without the cunning for a million more matters
Used to silence me.

We are brittle beings
Needing protection.
As I am a petal
Offered a thorn.

Poem – "A Father who never Left" – Family – 3/24/2020

Deep in my past

Where horses ride

Over roadways and train tracks,

I fall away

Into memories

Full of the same shelter,

In how I gave love

To anyone else.

His arms

Brought my misfortune to fortune,

And in what I learned

Was that grief is but a symbol

To never grow beyond

To something diseased.

I have used all my ambition

To feel what I feel

When I am asleep

When I will close sheets around me,

And feel his warmth.

One face,

Two cheeks,

And three realms to kiss.

My father

Had for me

Everything I could keep

And never let go.

Poem – “Oh, Mother; Leave All Evil” – Personal Poem – 10/22/2019

Your spirit resides in turbulence,
But, a moth rests itself atop your temple,
A grave sits before you, idle and waiting.
There’s a place in Heaven, for you,
Near the place Christ left, for you.

There’s evil that runs so free,
Seemingly freer than love, itself.
Why do you find yourself in comfort,
During when your son has shown sides to him,
That only you could ever know?
Though, you show faces twisted and scorning,
During when your son has shown a world for himself.

I matter for your approval,
Father has died,
A world has been separated
Alike sprinkles of color
Atop a cake of black and white,
And I require the remembrance,
Of you.

Death seems to soak itself,
As I am a pessimist,
Around myself;
That, is where death drowns itself,
Bathes itself
In my mind you seem to dub to be wretched.
A life, in love with a woman,
And you disapprove.

You desire comfort, nestle yourself near comfort?
Is it all you crave?
What way is there to send you
To places that are not of comfort,
But are going to spill tragedy’s mark upon
Your delicate forehead?

Mother, your son
Has found,
Has found enough, from you,
And for you.
And, he has found for himself,
A place in a woman’s heart,
Though, you’ll continue
To show a starving face,
In the wrong direction.

Poem – “Father, Have You Lifted?” – Father’s Day

Father, have you lifted,
Away from the pain I now share,
With a world so very bare?

It is because I have done as you asked,
And cared for another among a division
Of untimely selfishness.

Is it wrong to despise someone,
Who loves only themselves?
This world has no promise of love.

And yet, I make what I can
From the smooth ashes that cake my ankles,
And the fires, I make for warmth, as bodies burn.

Ashes that fell, and ashes you breathed,
As towers fell and towers leave.
They were once tall, and now, they are up to me.

I am in love,
With a dashing extravagance,
Because I have no more guidance.

There is only the music, of remembrance,
That makes me breath a fragrance,
One that is soft and represents a cushion.

One that is a cushion and shows the skin,
Of those in need.
Their blood raises upwards, and I see.

I see a world without the shame,
Of people who ignore shame,
Of people intolerant of shame.

I see a world unlike you or me,
I see, and only see, the madness of those without a clue,
To be able to differ the old from the new.

There is so much beauty left forgotten,
So much truth unprotected by the dome of love.
That when I see you, I begin to see me.

I see the fires and the waves on the shoreline,
And I don’t see myself as needing,
Other than the occasional sentiment of gratitude,
Like you, as humble, in the efforts towards safety.