Coffee, Sea and Me

A cup of coffee and the sea

And a little bit of you and me

A burst of wind blowing towards the land

And the entwining of my fingers with your hand

A setting sun, mirrored across the water

While we look on, marking our happily ever after

Tongue Tied

He wondered if I’d ever written something with him in mind

Confessing he’d been scouring for a piece of him in every word of my pieces

I could only smile and say no

Little could I tell him though

That his disappointment was misplaced

I yearned to tell him so

But I

I could never do justice to the embers he ignites within my soul

For I’d never be able to write anything for him

There just aren’t enough words

Or pages

Or lines good enough

To sum him up

So I write

Day and night

Of everything

But him

In the hope

He’d notice

That he has me tongue tied

Street Lamps

Did I ever tell you about the love stories trapped in misty, yellow street lamps?

Of cold winter nights and foggy, dewy mornings?

Of the sweet partings they’ve witnessed and the unshed tears they’ve hidden from the world by dimming their own glimmer?

Of happy reunions, drunken songs, smitten glances and lingering fingers, unwilling to let go?

Of forgotten paths from childhood days

Of forsaken crushes from teenaged forays

Of forbidden meetings and notes exchanging

Of broken hearts, dragging feet, slumped shoulders and endless pining

Ah! did I ever tell you about the love stories trapped in misty, yellow street lamps?

Broken Words

I speak in broken words today

On behalf of something else that’s been broken

Time and time again

I speak in broken words today

Of the unkindness within each one of us

That rears its ugly head

Ready to strike

When someone shows us the least bit of care and concern

For it feeds its ego on the tears of our friends

I speak in broken words today

Of narcissism, sadism, toxicity and inflicting pain

As a way to make ourselves feel more alive

I speak in broken words today

Of the lost art of breathing free

Smiling even more freely

Caring with abandon

Loving without caution

Giving, with no expectation of receiving

I speak in broken words today

On behalf of a heart

That’s barely been beating

Because it chose

To live heartfully

While my words may be broken, my poetry imprecise, my thoughts may be scattered and my breaths out of rhythm

I resolve today to live kindly

Because this world is not meant to be

A graveyard for broken hearts

Blogmas Day 1 : Of Living and Loving

Happy first day of the last month of the year. And oh, what a year this has been. A lot of what it brought along was entirely unwelcome, yet there’s a lot to be grateful for.

So while this year comes to an end soon, it’s important to remember that we have no inkling of what the next one holds (other than the hope that it’s very different and the pandemic would no longer exist). It behoves us to be slow down and be more mindful of our blessings, chief of which are our loved ones’ health and happiness. Check in on your tribe.

If nothing more, this year has been instrumental in reminding us of what really matters and what we hold most dear. So go hold them, cherish them, nurture them and love them.

Live a little, love a lot. Isn’t that a very generous thought?

Labour of Love

I read somewhere today that there is plenty of work for love to do.

What a simple statement and how very profound. It made me pause in awe of its full meaning. Truly a wonderful motto to abide.

So let’s get busy loving in these lives we’re living because there’s plenty of work still remaining.

Do you feel songs?

If songs could be held

I’d send you a warm hug

From Sinatra, Elton John and their ilk

And serenade you to some Bryan Adams

Suade you till you danced

A slow waltz to a jazz

With your usual endearing pizzaz

But alas, you’re miles apart

And I can only feel songs

Happy-ness

I’ll find my happiness

Where the sun shines

And I’ll share it with you

From noon till night

Under a clear sky

Where only the wind chimes

Requiem for a Dream

Can you tell me where dreams go to die?

In the dreamer’s tearful eyes

Or in the broken pieces of his still beating heart?

Or the soft sound of your receding footsteps

Silently tearing me apart?

Micro Poetry #39

There’s a lot still left to write about

But tonight I’m content with the way you feel