History, a word that carries memory,
transformation,
success, and failure.

Though written in skewed remarks
By the victors of the time
The truth will out.

It is not until
The Kool-Aid runs out
That one can begin to question.

Relentless, Time’s tide
As it flows onward ever so fast.
Each second slips away,
Creating a moment passed.

This world turns, yet my heart
Stands still, a hollow echo
That your laughter used to fill.

The sun will set on another day
Alone in the sky, it will happily stay.
But not I.

The stars explode with brightness
But still, I feel alone, no longer known.
A page will flip as the calendar burns;

Each season changing in its hue
And with every breath, I think of you.
For life can no longer be the same.

(Inspired by a poem posted on FB without a title or a credit to who wrote the one I used for inspiration.  Do any of you recognize the premise?)

"It is like a wildfire that you cannot stop",
Burning all around, you in the middle,
Until all is burned down.
You stand looking out, wondering
How you made it through,
Made it out only slightly singed.
Life is a wildfire that you cannot stop.

"It is like a wildfire that you cannot stop",
Burning all around, you in the middle,
Until all is burned down.

You stand looking out, wondering

How you made it through,
Made it out only slightly singed.
Life is a wildfire that you cannot stop.

"I am a poet"
That is what our ego tells us
What we tell others
What others desire for self
What we desire to hear
So they tell you that you are
Quid quo pro
We stroke one another
Manus manum lavat
When I die I hope "they'll" say
"A poet has left us"
But then as now
I will not know it

You by my side
You standing near
You next to me 
You I hold dear
You are a need
Which I fill
As often as possible 
You are sustenance

It is Love that has to be believed to be seen.

Deep within the heart, My World, the illusive passage

Tremulous feelings emerge into a light, which becomes You.

This poem can be read 2-3 ways.  Read the whole poem.  Next read only the ones.  Finally, read only the twos.

1 You are beautiful
       2 inside and out
1 And you were gifted
       2 bone and sinew
1 Muscle and brain
       2 within your mind
1 You can find all
       2 the strength

The last stanza is inspired by Mary Huxley's poem, If You Return

Your needs are calling, and I should go

Yet, I cannot this moment, for
I must write while the words flow

The pain of losing you
Before you're even gone

Is too acute for me to carry on
Yet, we all must, for in time we all go

And you will soon and so must I
We cannot turn to look back

Yet, when you return, no need to knock
For my door has memorized you

Stand near the cotton candy maker;
What a carnival atmosphere!

Sugar permeates the air we breathe;
The taste briefly lingers on the tongue.

Yet, the thing sweetly desired obtained
Becomes a sticky mess.

Stand near the cotton candy maker;
What a carnival atmosphere!
Sugar permeates the air,
    
We breathe; moisture glistens on our skin,

The taste briefly lingers on the tongue. Yet,
The thing sweetly desired obtained
Becomes a sticky mess.

The label read: Clarifying Shampoo
So I thought I'd give it a try.

Skeptical as I was
I lathered and I scrubbed,

But clarity never came.

The scissors marched across her forehead;
When Mommy stuck her head in
Baby Girl said

"Not now Mommy. I'm cutting my hair."

And sure enough, the horror was true.
Baby Girl's hair lay there on the floor
In little tufts of such pretty curls.

A tear rolled down Mommy's cheeks like a tiny pearl.

At times we are all fragile.
Casual words spoken at the time
Can cut to the bone
Leaving you hurt and feeling alone.

It's not another's responsibility to nurture you.
Only you can keep "you" from feeling like a fool.
Thus, tap deep into the core of who you really are
And all the good you may have wished to do.

Then ask yourself: What part did I play
In making the world the worse or better today?
Could my next actions alter those next casual words
Said with such disregard or even said in mirth?

The only "I" that is within my own control
Is the better "I" that slowly comes to the old.
That which has the hardest time erasing pasts acts
Can bring the knowledge that all things change and pass.

Even self-worth.

I'm not a cat, you will see, you wussy!
And I'd not be trapped anyway,
With that ball of string, I already played.
It is a tired old game for stupid *******.

My skin drum beats the message
Deep from within my chest sending
Out the rhythmed vibrations
Hopefully, the sound will pound
Upon your own heart

If I were a bird
You would be my nest.

You are the bed
When I need rest.

My ears had heard
But now my eyes see.

I come to know the depth
Of what you mean to me,

Life and love, and breath.

In the style of Marc Morais

Become a boulder for
Those who need a place to lean
Between solitude and stress
A tide for the jagged shore
For those who feel unmoored
And no longer want to be moored

Mighty strength to meager strength
Wrap your strength around mine
Become all things to all things
Then in this act, you will find
Two become mightier than one
And many hands make lighter lives

My strength in you, yours in mine

You could be my lungs
For you give me breath.

You could be my heart
Because it beats for you.

You were already in my head,
Now you are in the heart
Within my chest.