It’s not only
the Liar
who prefers
lies;
it is,
often,
that the
Hearer
favors
them
even more.
Category: poetry
Night and Day
Your love
wakes me up
and
lulls me
to sleep,
and I
can
scarcely wait
for tomorrow.
Firestone Friday: Poem XVIII
You speak
different languages
between
the morning
and
the night,
and I love
the way
my name
sounds
in every
single
one
of them.
(Happy Valentine’s Day.)
Cold Embrace
Standing
in the
brutal air
of a blizzard,
I think,
longingly,
how
unexpectedly
fortunate
the flakes are
to have fallen
where you sit,
caressing you
as they descend.
Startled,
I look down
to find myself
standing
in a pool of water;
the snow has melted.
On the Future
I hope
you never
ask me
how you look.
How ridiculous
is it
going to be
when
” like my future”
comes out
before I can
stop it?
Wordsmith Wednesday: Poem XVIII
I
can
hear
my
kingdom
crumbling
in
your
voice.
Touchstone Tuesday: Poem XIII
People tell me
they don’t get
poetry.
I want
to tell them
if they’ve ever
fallen asleep
with a
broken heart
or cried
as their child
wrapped their hand
around their fingers
for the first time,
they not only
understand poetry:
they’ve been
living it
for years.
Sirens
The sirens
have left the ocean,
and they’re
walking on land,
singing enchantments,
dragging us
down
to the
bottom
of bottles.
On Ridicule
Consider it
a good sign
when someone
ridicules
your dream
or
your effort;
if it brings
no one to jeer,
it’s hardly
outrageous
enough
to make
a difference.
_________________________
Poems you might love:
Growth
You either
grow
flowers
or
weeds,
and you only
have so much
water.
Faith, Health, and Other Musings 