Poetry from Alwayslooking
{ When I Knew } { Dreaming }{ The Meadow }
{ Close of a Perfect Evening } { The Conversation }
{ When You Are There } { Waiting }
{ Back to Alwayslooking's Page }
These poems are dedicated to L.S.
Like a snapshot, the moment
Returns when eyes close.
You at sunset.
Standing in the grey coat
You seem to always wear,
Eyes filled with laughter
As the long day's tension
Flowed away for the night,
Hands in pockets, smiling,
You seemed aglow from within.
Beside you, I began to dream
Of the touch of your lips,
Of shouting for joy,
Yet, stunned into silence
By the beauty before me,
I simply stood and watched,
Basking in your gaze.
Amid the friendly night sounds
I could only hear my breath,
Your deeply rhythmic voice,
And a song which now
Invades my every waking hour:
A song of God's own making,
Telling me I have come home.
This is the photograph I carry,
Not where it can be seen,
But braided into my soul:
You at dusk, lit by inner flame,
And me standing, first hearer
Of a heartsong you created,
Which I now shall hum forever.
{ Dreaming }{ The Meadow } { Close of a Perfect Evening }
{ The Conversation }{ When You Are There } { Waiting } { Top of Page }
I reach out to touch your face -
Feeling warmth, hearing delight,
Thumb tracing gentle tear's progress -
Soon enclosed by gentle arms
Drawing me to the place I most belong:
There, next to your heart.
Sadly I awake, to meet a world
Of brutal formality, lacking touch,
Where eyes, duller now, speak words
Of friendship's brittle peace.
And that place within me,
Which, in each night's dreams
Offers up a prayer of pure joy,
Curls up a little tighter
Against the blows of daylight,
Buffeted by the cold within
Born of love's forced silence.
Bowed by the ache, I walk alone
Along the path my life has set,
Anxiously awaiting the coming night
When, deep in sleep, I touch your face.
{ When I Knew } { The Meadow } { Close of a Perfect Evening }
{ The Conversation }{ When You Are There } { Waiting } { Top of Page }
I walked through the forest green,
Aware of beauty, reaching for rays
Of sunlight drifting through the dark
To single out a blade of grass,
Breathing deep the scent of pine.
It never yet occurred to me
To want for greater loveliness,
To ask for greater joy.
Then the siren meadow bade me enter,
Calling me from cool forest pleasures.
Stepping into its glittering vastness,
The vague chuckle of silvered stream,
The sward of grasses humming
With the life unseen, unknown,
I was warmed by sun's brilliance
Claiming my shadowed, pine-filled life.
So, now I lie upon the loam,
Amidst the scents of living earth
Awaiting what I do not know.
Perhaps the gentle, loving sun
Shall offer up a sea of blooms,
Overwhelming every sense
In hues of heaven's passionate abandon.
Or maybe this is all there is.
I know not. Nor do I care.
For what I have is rich enough.
This meadow has become my home.
Now, either way, I am no longer
A dweller in the forest places.
I have the gift of richest sunlight.
And though I yearn, I do not need
The brilliant shades of flowers in spring.
{ When I Knew } { Dreaming } { Close of a Perfect Evening }
{ The Conversation }{ When You Are There } { Waiting } { Top of Page }
A stifled yawn. I see your attention
Drift aimlessly toward the dull nightscape
And all the woes which moderate
Your careful, daytime face
Fade with the setting moon.
In this twilight of nearly sleep
You honor me most, beloved.
For here you keep no guardians.
Defenses lowered, you edge toward dreams
And trust another to keep you safe.
Would that were my role forever:
Sentinel of your silent hours.
For, in that aura of sleep's abandon,
I gaze unheeded at your beauteous warmth.
And once again, I dare to dream.
{ When I Knew } { Dreaming }{ The Meadow }
{ The Conversation }{ When You Are There } { Waiting } { Top of Page }
In the peaceful passage of evening:
A flicker of candles, a harp-drawn melody,
Suddenly the words of my life spill out,
Bidden, against my will, by your eyes.
Laid bare, I brace myself again
For the flip slice of sardonic humor,
The cliche answer to which
Life has made me accustomed.
Yet it never comes.
I glance up into those dark pools again,
And am captured, held close by a glance,
Warmed by understanding not my own to carry,
A faint smile, a self-depricating gesture.
Ah.
You are as imperfect as I, it seems.
You hear me with ears which usually turn inward,
And understand my distress from visceral core.
My heartaches ring of similarities.
Of such things can love be made.
I find myself, with hand outstretched,
Grasping our mutual imperfections
To make a world.
{ When I Knew } { Dreaming }{ The Meadow }
{ Close of a Perfect Evening }
{ When You Are There } { Waiting } { Top of Page }
It came as a shock, almost electrical in force.
You told me you could barely remember joy.
Imagine, I thought, not carrying within your breast
The Christmas morning's shivering thrill,
The pounding heart of sandlot victory,
The soaring lightness of being in love.
How deeply I longed to offer you
The very richness I have found inside
Simply from your presence in my world,
To hand you a piece of the thankful heart
Which sparkles here, like the bubbles
In a flute of the best champagne.
Yet, I cannot infuse your oh, so weary soul
With the light you've given my own.
All I can do is be there in your personal dark,
A hand to clasp when paths grow impossibly dim,
In hopes you may some day find, deep within,
The fire upon which my spirit floats.
For this has never been a flame kindled in solitude.
It shines when your smile flickers with warmth,
Or I hear the throatiness of your laughter,
When your eyes land upon me with gentleness
And tell me of a welcome which is mine alone.
Then it is I find my joy: when you are there.
{ When I Knew } { Dreaming }{ The Meadow }
{ Close of a Perfect Evening }
{ The Conversation }{ Waiting } { Top of Page }
The woman who brushes by me
Pegs me instantly as odd,
For I sit on a wall, in the chilly morn,
Just watching the world wander by.
"Nice jacket," another says.
A street tough smiles, and salutes.
And none understand the delight
With which I meet the day.
It is a skill you taught me,
This ability to wait without tension.
To glory in the common joys
Which always before I hurried past.
So, sitting here in morning calm,
Faced with autumn's special rainbow,
Midst blue sky and the air's crisp tang,
I revel in my heartbeat and in you.
The other weights and worries glide
Into the background of my being,
As I enjoy a personal parade -
Humanity's variety, laid out before me.
All the bustle I would have joined
Dashes by, leaving me alone
Until I feel your gentle touch.
Then, swept away, I wait no more.
{ When I Knew } { Dreaming }{ The Meadow } { Close of a Perfect Evening }
{ The Conversation }{ When You Are There } { Top of Page }