I Almost Do

I almost give my heart to you-

I almost do-

Want to make one soul of two,

And trust in you.

I almost do.

I almost love you.

 

When I say “forever”, it’s almost true.

I almost do-

Want to spend my life with you;

Exchange vows and rings too.

I almost do.

I almost love you.

 

I almost want to marry you.

I almost do-

Want to bind myself to you.

Stand by your side through and through

But to repeat those two words to bind us two,

I can only say “I almost do”.

 

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If I Don’t Come Home In Time

I pull into the drive after a long day at work.

I am tired and hungry.

It is dark and silent.

I turn the key in the ignition.

I shut off the lights-

But I don’t leave the car.

 

I place both hands on the top of the wheel

And rest my head upon hands.

I breathe slowly, in and out.

I unbuckle my seat belt and gather my things.

I open my car door and step out of my refuge.

I mentally brace myself for what I may find.

 

Three steps to the back door.

I fumble the key into the lock and turn.

The door opens,

I call to you.

You answer and I am relieved.

Tomorrow the process will repeat again.

 

As long as you answer I know you are here.

As long as you answer I know you are alive.

As long as you answer I know you won the fight.

 

I fear for the day you don’t reply.

I fear for the day I walk through the kitchen

Down the dark hall

Into the room and find you there:

Sprawled on the bed

Surrounded by bottles-

Perhaps covered in blood-

With gun in hand

staring blankly at the white ceiling

with dark, unseeing eyes.

I fear for the day I don’t come home in time.

Into the Sky

If I took a leap and fell into the sky

Am I truly falling,

Or is this how I fly?

Will I tumble forever among the stars?

Will I soar ever higher?

Is there a limit how far?

If gravity now ceased to exist

If the laws of the universe called it quits;

Could I fall skyward, past all that is known-

Touring the depths of the universe forever to roam?

Could I dance through the darkness-

Rejoice in the light?

Could I create something of the nothing

That we call the “night”?

If I took a leap and fell into the sky,

Am I truly falling or is this how I fly?

Lilac and Orange

I had never seen a sunset like it before;

Lilac- the sky

Orange- the clouds.

Soft purple rimmed with blush pink-

So soft and romantic, like the flowers of a bride’s bouquet.

Glowing orange and lined with fiery gold

Like a fire set among a meadow of flowers

Burning but never harming the delicate petals.

Slowly, so subtly it changed without detection,

The sky deepened to violet.

The clouds became red.

Still beautiful- so beautiful.

I watched, mesmerized, the lilac sky.

Autumn

*I promised to post this earlier, but I got busy with the first week of school- classes, homework, adjusting to a new schedule etc. In any case, here it is. *

Autumn

I stand outside just before a rainstorm

Staring at the mountains filled with brown, green, red, yellow, and orange

Contrasted and enhanced by the muted grey sky.

Even the breeze dances quietly.

No one and nothing makes a sound.

Black silhouettes of birds beat against that silent, silver sky,

But none call as they push onward to the south.

I am within a painting.

 

Winter is quiet, fantastical, and dead.

The silver, white, and grays of the holiday season are beautiful at their first appearance

But the monochromatic landscape turn the mind to despair.

Spring is inspirational, renewing, and loud.

life re-awakens and colors return-

with it comes sounds of returning migrations and breeding to distract the mind

From the beauty and peace of contemplation.

Summer is warm, active and busy.

Colors and activities under a glaring blue sky excite the mind and body-

Exhilarating but also exhausting.

 

Autumn is balance.

It is life quieting down,

Nature slowing down for a rest.

Flora and fauna alike wind down for a nap.

It is this silent procreation that promotes the wellbeing I seek.

 

Only as the heavy raindrops begin to fall

can I bear to break myself from these thoughts

and leave this beautiful landscape.

I am reluctant to depart this spiritual stillness.

 

Lonely Introvert

I am an introvert

And I get lonely.

This is not a paradox.

It is a loneliness that sits deep in the soul,

Infusing itself into every atom of my being.

It covers me like a latex glove.

It suffocates me

And weighs me down.

Yet, I am an introvert.

I do not need someone physically near me.

I do not need you to hold my hand or stroke my hair.

I just need to know someone cares for me,

Loves me,

And thinks of me.

I still need space to breath and think and just be.

I am lonely-

Not because I AM alone,

But because I FEEL alone.

I Couldn’t Find the Moon

A poem about the loss of a friend. Looking through posts I saw that I promised to post this poem at a later date but got busy and forgot.

I Couldn’t Find the Moon

I couldn’t find the moon tonight;

It hid behind the clouds.

I cried, thinking of you and how

You loved to watch it rise.

I searched

As crickets sang,

And the soft wind danced to their song.

But I couldn’t find the moon tonight,

Just a few, sparse -spaced stars.

I stood there in the parking lot

As I do every night.

My head turned toward the sky,

I searched for you in the moonlight.

But I couldn’t find the moon tonight,

Though last eve’n it was full and clear.

I sought in vain

To see you there,

Watching me down here.

I couldn’t find the moon tonight,

But still, I could feel you.

It’s not just in the evening time,

or in the moon,

that I see you.

Pioneer Cemetery

Posted in honor of Pioneer Day, a holiday celebrated with greater fervor than the 4th of July in Utah.

 

Pioneer Cemetery

Nestled between two large, box-shaped suburban homes

Overlooking the picturesque valley,

Lay a quiet cemetery no large than a backyard.

Each grave marker is a small, foot-high, bronze plaque-

Evenly spaced in the manicured enclosure.

All around the peaceful graves are sidewalks with even-placed benches.

In one corner there is a statue of a pioneer family

That watch the peaceful slumber of the graves from their place in the bushes.

In another there is a tall stone engraving- each name of the buried is listed here.

Dotting the lawn are stories of several laid to rest in this place.

At the gate the red roses dance in the breeze-

Mimicking the flag waving above.

Pioneer Cemetery- the ornate entrance gate reads-

Though few care to take notice.

Empty of visitors and hidden in plain site on the cliff’s overhang.

A peaceful place-

A stunning, inspiring view.

The perfect spot for solitary contemplation.

A gem found

nestled between two, large, box-shaped suburban homes.

 

Summer’s Night Sky

Cooling the air to a comfortable 65 degrees

And providing a strong challenging wind,

The cold front brings with it rolling, grey clouds.

This atmosphere promises an early summer storm that is never delivered.

Instead, the waning gibbous moon rises brightly behind the mists and vapors.

There the moon prominently hangs;

Allowing the condensed waters of the failed storm to dance before it.

It dyes the shadows silver-blue as it radiates its glory.

A great bird of illuminated clouds shines in the evening

as the water, light, and shadow paint the sky.

It is a sight so beautiful it pulls on my soul.

I stare in open-jawed amazement-

A vision that could never be paralleled in the light of the sun.

All too soon the vision fades as the clouds glide onward.

The beauty was in that fleeting moment.

Motion

Inspired by “Be Somewhere” by David Habben

*A special Thanks to Mark Hedengren owner of  Red Finch Gallery*

 

Like Chinese ink paintings each stroke of the brush

Is an illusion of chance

But a reality of purpose.

Each composition is far too fluid and graceful

To label as merely “abstract”

For each piece like a surreal landscape-

Some gentle, pastoral, and quiet,

Some wild, mountainous, and full of adventure.

Still on the page and yet moving- breathing.

The bold black ink glides across the stark white;

The unpainted space as telling as the painted.

The beauty of motion captured in the lively stillness of ink-

Inviting you to dance to a wordless song-

The rhythm fast and energetic then slow and contemplative.

The swirling echoes of a hand through air

Or a graceful leg arching through space- mimicking the sound.

The drawings, the landscapes, the music, the body, the space-

Most importantly, the space in-between,

Is always rolling, flowing, moving-

Always in motion.