You held them in your hands,
those leaves,
my trust, my love, my honesty.
"They're fragile things," I said.
"Those leaves,
they tend to tear too easily."
You said to me,
"Those leaves,
they'll be forever in my heart."
And so I let you hold
those leaves,
remember this, our start?
But then you took
those leaves,
And yes, in your heart they went,
but you forgot about
those leaves
And all that they had meant.
I found the first,
my trust,
and you had ripped it all apart,
and then you watched
my trust
in you gradually depart....
-D.B.
4/20-21/2010, 9/26/2012
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Leaves (Part 2)
Then when nudged by
my love
you thought it best ignored.
And thus, neglected felt
my love
and that great leaf was torn.
And now you see
my honesty,
but what to do with this?
How to take
my honesty
and crush it in your fist?
You try and try but
my honesty,
resilient in its youth,
can't be but
my honesty
though I left it all to you.
But, my dear, when all
those leaves
of trust and love are gone,
the one that's left,
my honesty,
will not last for too long.
The edges of
my honesty
with time will start to tear,
and then all of
my honesty
will die when I can't care.
-D.B.
4/20-21/2010, 9/26/2012
my love
you thought it best ignored.
And thus, neglected felt
my love
and that great leaf was torn.
And now you see
my honesty,
but what to do with this?
How to take
my honesty
and crush it in your fist?
You try and try but
my honesty,
resilient in its youth,
can't be but
my honesty
though I left it all to you.
But, my dear, when all
those leaves
of trust and love are gone,
the one that's left,
my honesty,
will not last for too long.
The edges of
my honesty
with time will start to tear,
and then all of
my honesty
will die when I can't care.
-D.B.
4/20-21/2010, 9/26/2012
to you. (Part 2/2)
...I will never write to you.
But I am trying to write about you.
Which is less than you have done for me, mother.
I am grateful.
You gave me away out of love, so
I like to think.
I will never write to you.
But I am trying to write about you.
Which is hard; I do not think about you.
We are not stereotypes.
I have cried about it once and I
have not worried since.
I will never write to you.
But I am trying to write about you.
Which was bound to happen eventually.
I am not upset.
For a poet with my past, this is just
an occupational hazard.
I will never write to you.
But I have tried to write about you.
Which I hope you understand.
This is not a letter.
This is meant to be about you, it is not
to you.
-D.B.
4/26-27/2012
But I am trying to write about you.
Which is less than you have done for me, mother.
I am grateful.
You gave me away out of love, so
I like to think.
I will never write to you.
But I am trying to write about you.
Which is hard; I do not think about you.
We are not stereotypes.
I have cried about it once and I
have not worried since.
I will never write to you.
But I am trying to write about you.
Which was bound to happen eventually.
I am not upset.
For a poet with my past, this is just
an occupational hazard.
I will never write to you.
But I have tried to write about you.
Which I hope you understand.
This is not a letter.
This is meant to be about you, it is not
to you.
-D.B.
4/26-27/2012
Monday, September 24, 2012
to you. (Part 1/2)
I will never write to you.
But I am trying to write about you.
Which is less than can be said for mom.
She raised me.
God bless her soul and send her
straight to heaven.
I will never write to you.
But I am trying to write about you.
Which is less than can be said for dad.
He is my hero.
I have always been daddy's
tomboy princess.
I will never write to you.
But I am trying to write about you.
Which is far less than can be said for big brother.
He is my soldier.
No matter what life throws at us, I have
always loved him.
I will never write to you.
But I am trying to write about you.
Which is more than can be said for father.
I do not know him.
The poor man crosses my mind
less than you.
I will never write to you.
But I am trying to write about you.
Which is more than can be said for siblings.
They might exist.
By my own choosing, I
will never know....
-D.B.
But I am trying to write about you.
Which is less than can be said for mom.
She raised me.
God bless her soul and send her
straight to heaven.
I will never write to you.
But I am trying to write about you.
Which is less than can be said for dad.
He is my hero.
I have always been daddy's
tomboy princess.
I will never write to you.
But I am trying to write about you.
Which is far less than can be said for big brother.
He is my soldier.
No matter what life throws at us, I have
always loved him.
I will never write to you.
But I am trying to write about you.
Which is more than can be said for father.
I do not know him.
The poor man crosses my mind
less than you.
I will never write to you.
But I am trying to write about you.
Which is more than can be said for siblings.
They might exist.
By my own choosing, I
will never know....
-D.B.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
grey clouds
smudged on a canvas of blue
soft as the sand.
a lazy artist
swirling the murk to life,
formless but living.
shafts of grey
slide to a mirror surface,
feet stepping on each other.
the ocean,
undulating to unheard rhythms,
a blend of swirls and ripples.
grey clouds
set free in waves and foam,
dancing to the shore.
D.B. 5/11-12/2012
smudged on a canvas of blue
soft as the sand.
a lazy artist
swirling the murk to life,
formless but living.
shafts of grey
slide to a mirror surface,
feet stepping on each other.
the ocean,
undulating to unheard rhythms,
a blend of swirls and ripples.
grey clouds
set free in waves and foam,
dancing to the shore.
D.B. 5/11-12/2012
Friday, September 21, 2012
when handed white paper i (part 2)
when handed white paper i (part 1)
add some
blue
navy and sky
rain and tears
flooding
the bottom border
wanting to drown me
but they won't
because next comes
yellow
sunny and mellow
sprinkles
on the whiteness
like sand
turn to
spikes
above the
blue
and in between is
green
to connect them
and to be itself
because
green
is more than just
blue and yellow
it is
green
and it points
north
south
diagonal
around
arrows creating
movement
around my
creation
green
the color of
me
not my favorite, just
me
i can be
yellow
happy as a buttercup
diligent as the bee
i can be
blue
sad as my tears
serene as gentle waves
but i am
green
as well
as much
yellow
as i am
blue
but
green
in my own right
because i am my
own
not simply a mixture
i am
nature
i am natural
beauty
i am nature's beautiful
hope
-D.B.
5/1-10/2012
add some
blue
navy and sky
rain and tears
flooding
the bottom border
wanting to drown me
but they won't
because next comes
yellow
sunny and mellow
sprinkles
on the whiteness
like sand
turn to
spikes
above the
blue
and in between is
green
to connect them
and to be itself
because
green
is more than just
blue and yellow
it is
green
and it points
north
south
diagonal
around
arrows creating
movement
around my
creation
green
the color of
me
not my favorite, just
me
i can be
yellow
happy as a buttercup
diligent as the bee
i can be
blue
sad as my tears
serene as gentle waves
but i am
green
as well
as much
yellow
as i am
blue
but
green
in my own right
because i am my
own
not simply a mixture
i am
nature
i am natural
beauty
i am nature's beautiful
hope
-D.B.
5/1-10/2012
Sunday, September 16, 2012
dear can't you see
dear can't you see where I have brought you to,
the place of beauty's soul?
beyond the shoreline, in the mists,
where lightning rips, where thunder rolls.
dear do you fear for I have shown to you
a dark and empty hole?
it waits for you, you are the key,
you'll bring My light, the light it stole.
dear will you listen to My silence?
it embodies all you know.
when all is calm and storm has left
and you're still here
but not alone.
-D.B.
10/2011
the place of beauty's soul?
beyond the shoreline, in the mists,
where lightning rips, where thunder rolls.
dear do you fear for I have shown to you
a dark and empty hole?
it waits for you, you are the key,
you'll bring My light, the light it stole.
dear will you listen to My silence?
it embodies all you know.
when all is calm and storm has left
and you're still here
but not alone.
-D.B.
10/2011
Sunday, September 9, 2012
[silence]
i would do better
alone in this world
with no one to speak to me
just leave me alone!
i just want some peace
can't you see in my eyes?
i despise human speech,
it just takes too much time.
i don't care if you sit there
and just shut your mouth,
you can be in my presence
but you need to learn how!
it shouldn't be hard
to be silent for hours
but from my experience
no on else has this power.
i just want to go
somewhere secluded
where no one else knows
and everything's muted,
no voice but my own
and a peace never ruined.
-D.B.
4/25/2012
alone in this world
with no one to speak to me
just leave me alone!
i just want some peace
can't you see in my eyes?
i despise human speech,
it just takes too much time.
i don't care if you sit there
and just shut your mouth,
you can be in my presence
but you need to learn how!
it shouldn't be hard
to be silent for hours
but from my experience
no on else has this power.
i just want to go
somewhere secluded
where no one else knows
and everything's muted,
no voice but my own
and a peace never ruined.
-D.B.
4/25/2012
Friday, September 7, 2012
11/15-16/2010 & 1/2011
With that beginning note
starts the memory of the heart,
seventeen notes later
the strangest pangs will start.
The song brings back a memory
of something that you've lost,
a time that you won't have again
and so you take a pause.
And as you listen to this song,
those pangs will pierce your soul,
they'll soon become addicting
and your heart will pay the toll.
But amazing how those blood-red notes
assault your heart like darts,
they course right through your pulsing veins
and infect your beating heart
with feelings known from times gone past,
they're liquid now, they're flowing fast,
the notes pour in, your heart is drowned
in pools of blood-red liquid sound.
-D.B.
starts the memory of the heart,
seventeen notes later
the strangest pangs will start.
The song brings back a memory
of something that you've lost,
a time that you won't have again
and so you take a pause.
And as you listen to this song,
those pangs will pierce your soul,
they'll soon become addicting
and your heart will pay the toll.
But amazing how those blood-red notes
assault your heart like darts,
they course right through your pulsing veins
and infect your beating heart
with feelings known from times gone past,
they're liquid now, they're flowing fast,
the notes pour in, your heart is drowned
in pools of blood-red liquid sound.
-D.B.
Monday, September 3, 2012
There is no silver lining on my cloud in the blue
it was not made for shimmers but for humbler hues
like the soft shade of purple just for me I think
that is lined by the love of my innocent pink
-D.B.
1/29/2009
the sun shoots beams of radiant hues
orange pink and gold overshadow the blue
they shine so bright and glow so intense
blinding, overpowering, they never relent.
but that is not we, that is not us
we are the blue, the soft colored dust
the lining on our cloud is not overbearing
it's perfectly, lovingly, wonderfully....
-D.B.
9/3/2012
The first poem is the first real poem, in my opinion, that I ever wrote back in 2009.
The second one is one I started to think of in August 2012 and while making the original, which has been lost in the deep depths of my wandering thoughts, I realized how much it sounded like the one I wrote in 2009. The second version of the 2012 poem is the one that is here and here's the deal with the end of this one:
There is a reason why I'm posting this poem before it's done. I have a word that I want to use as the final word of the poem but it is very presumptive. God willing, I will one day be able to put the final word in this poem....someday.
-D.B.
9/3/2012
it was not made for shimmers but for humbler hues
like the soft shade of purple just for me I think
that is lined by the love of my innocent pink
-D.B.
1/29/2009
the sun shoots beams of radiant hues
orange pink and gold overshadow the blue
they shine so bright and glow so intense
blinding, overpowering, they never relent.
but that is not we, that is not us
we are the blue, the soft colored dust
the lining on our cloud is not overbearing
it's perfectly, lovingly, wonderfully....
-D.B.
9/3/2012
The first poem is the first real poem, in my opinion, that I ever wrote back in 2009.
The second one is one I started to think of in August 2012 and while making the original, which has been lost in the deep depths of my wandering thoughts, I realized how much it sounded like the one I wrote in 2009. The second version of the 2012 poem is the one that is here and here's the deal with the end of this one:
There is a reason why I'm posting this poem before it's done. I have a word that I want to use as the final word of the poem but it is very presumptive. God willing, I will one day be able to put the final word in this poem....someday.
-D.B.
9/3/2012
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)