jimowenswrites

Reflections on Life, Leadership, Mindfulness, Change, and other Important Stuff

Tag: love

Vigil

Through tired eyes

a glimmer still,

his furrowed brow,

his iron will.

 

I watch his chest

both rise and fall,

his expansive world,

becoming small.

 

We share some laughs

of days gone by,

I see him grin,

and wonder why.

 

Those blinking lights,

the greens and blues,

all dancing ’round

in shadowed hues;

 

What lies before

And what’s far past,

now matter not,

it went too fast.

 

All’s been said

What needed so,

when bells toll,

I’ll let him go.

 

His tender hand

now held in mine,

his gentle touch,

like sips of wine.

 

In weary watch,

my mind so clear,

I wipe my cheek

a trailing tear.

 

All that matters,

Is our now,

I’ll be alright,

he’s shown me how.

I should have kissed her

I should have kissed her

when we were standing there

in the shadows, amidst the silhouette

of neon and moonlight,

her cabernet lips plump, and tender, and moist,

her pupils wide,

her eyes aglow with reticent longing;

 

I should have kissed her

when my hand brushed against hers, and

I felt her warmth, and my heart throbbed

a comforting beat deep within my chest, before

the reckless hope of anticipation passed us by

like a wayward breeze on a hot August night;

 

I should have kissed her

when the wine and laughter had briefly thawed

the chill of my doubting, wounded heart,

before we offered one another kind well-wishes

of farewell, through despairing, half-hearted smiles.

 

I should have kissed her

when the possibilities loomed before us

like and endless desert highway at dawn, when

the tires thumped their brief but certain incantation of desire,

before my head overtook my heart,

and before mystery and enchantment gave way to cold calculations

of wisdom and logic, and before I had unwittingly given myself over to the deceit

to the cold deceit that this was not our time.

 

I should have kissed her.

Just out of reach

Arms outstretched,

His shoulders’ strain,

Reach for the bloom

And feel the pain;

 

His fingers brush,

From hands that ache;

Forbidden tastes,

Must he forsake?

 

Above he looks

In sunlight’s glare;

Reach further still,

Should now he dare?

 

Bends down the branch,

And begs the the tree:

Let go thy fruit

That’s tempting me;

 

Near to his grasp,

This thing he seeks;

So close and still,

Just out of reach;

 

He cannot stop,

Will not relent,

Until his hope

Has all been spent.

November Tune

Winds gently blowing

cross oat covered dunes,

I hear the sweet sounds,

of her November tune;

The ocean still rocking,

Against the white shores,

The sea’s tide calling,

A song all the more;

A gentle babe crying,

this unfettered delight,

I listen in wonder,

Pricked ears in the night;

Bare feet keep padding

Across the boarded walk,

A strange symphony rising,

This whispering talk;

I strain in the darkness,

Make no better choice

Than awaiting the morrow,

And longing for her voice;

This is no easy thing

This is no easy thing,

still loving you,

trying to heal this foolish broken heart,

trying to wipe of the stains of my tears for what could have been,

for what should have been;

 

This is no easy thing, sitting here,

wondering about what’s left,

what’s left undone,

wondering if there is anything that will rid me of this soul ache,

this hollow despair deep that permeates my body and pierces my belly,

hoping there is some way to deceive my heart into believing that everything

will be right once again—someday;

wondering if there is truly a time for all things under the sun will be such a time for us,

and if there is when it might come

hoping there will come a time

that wonderful, glorious day,

that day when my foolish mind no longer enslaves my heart;

 

This is no easy thing, sitting here, waiting,

hoping that I will hear the soft reminder of your love in the bell’s tinkling,

but fearing you now belong to another, someone more worthy,

someone who will erase me from your memories,

someone who captured you because I could not see,

because I was afraid,

and when I lay down and wonder about the things I said,

or didn’t say,

because I was afraid,

because I feared loss, more than I understood gain,

because I feared the uncertainty within myself and feared for you in that uncertainty;

 

This is no easy thing, sitting here,

not knowing,

waiting,

hoping,

pleading with the fate and the gods that rule it,

this is no easy thing, sitting here.

We Had A Bad Fight

We had a bad fight,

You and me,

All my sins,

You clearly see;

 

I know you’re hurt,

In such great pain,

But will you let,

My love remain?

 

You said those things,

In cold dismay,

And what I said,

I had to say;

 

Though I’m still lost,

In  this cold grief,

Some day soon,

I’ll find relief;

 

Won’t hold you hostage,

Or in angry chains,

Someday you’ll see,

My love remains;

 

When all my penance,

Someday I’ve done,

My hope is always,

Just to love you, son;

 

My life of late,

So full of sorrow,

With hopes that you,

Return tomorrow;

 

So I’ll just watch,

Accept my fate,

Until one day,

Your pain abates;

 

I held you often,

And wiped your tears,

Stood beside you,

Through all your fears;

 

Nothing I gave,

Shall I regret,

Nor will your pain,

I ‘ere forget;

 

The storm we ride,

In battered craft,

Was made so well,

‘twas built to last;

 

Oh yes, my son,

One thing is true,

Nothing will end,

My love for you.

Weird Dreams

Bears and cars and my grandmother

and the time I forgot my shoes

before a game;

 

Sometimes I’m the hero,

Sometimes I’m afraid;

 

Muff, the dog I had when I was a kid,

being late for the bus

and clowns;

 

Clowns?  Why clowns?

I’m not afraid of clowns.

At least I don’t think I am.

 

There’s the one about the dentist and

Bobby Joe yelling at me.

Sorry, Coach;

 

One time I jerked awake trying to

stop that man with the gun;

I’m pretty sure I did but I can’t

remember;

 

The ones that make me crazy are when someone

I know shows up but she isn’t in her

own body;

or he isn’t.

I mean his voice is the same and he’s saying things he

should say,

but he looks like someone I’ve never met;

 

The one where I see her in the crowd

and I keep trying to

make my way to her but never get any closer;

I think that means

I’ll never have six-pack abs;

 

Maybe I shouldn’t eat before bedtime or should get a book

to interpret them,

or go to Delphi and try to find the Oracle;

Or maybe I’m just in the Matrix,

Or maybe my brain is just a playground

of memories and hopes and

fears and love;

 

Who knows?

I have to go to work.

Dreams are weird.

Probably, this poem is too.

I Wait

I wait

and wonder;

 

 

And stare into

The horizon

Of desire;

 

 

A child

Of helpless

Longing;

 

 

Straining

In echoes

Of loss;

 

 

Warmed alone

by dim

memories;

 

 

How far

and long

this wandering?

 

 

Return

now

quickly.

 

 

Redeem

this orphaned

heart;

 

 

I wait

and wonder.

A Son at Midlife

When I was a younger man

So many things I knew;

My father’s wisdom wasted

Like the drying dew;

So confident and full

In my inner glow;

The younger man I was

Who had so much to show;

There was no need for him

To point the proper way;

For the path was mine

To climb each dawning day.

Now at midlife I find

There’s little to regret.

Though I sometimes wonder

How much I made him fret;

I’m certain that I did

Perhaps I caused him pain;

Yet he always loved me

Hoped for me just gain;

Whatever path I chose

He cheered me all along;

Helped me find the lessons

If ever I did wrong;

Listened to troubles

If to confess I dared;

He never failed to show me

Just how much he cared;

My mother there beside him

She did the same its true;

The day will come without them

Whatever will I do?

The gifts they’ve always given

Will never fade too far;

I’ll feel them with me ever

In the bright and wondrous star;

I’ll hear them in the wind

And in the birds of spring;

The smells of fresh cut grass

Will all their wisdom bring;

In smiles and hugs from friends

Who knew them both so well;

We’ll share them in the stories

That we all will tell;

When I was a younger man

So many things I knew;

Their memories and their words

Will ever ring so true.

Where hides now the gentle grace?

Where hides now the gentle grace,

that once beamed upon thy precious face?

 

What grave harm from thee hast stole

the kindness from thy weeping soul?

 

Why hast thou forsaken, gone, to flee

and cast me in this dreadful sea?

 

When whilst thou return o distant friend

thy strength and mine to ever lend?

 

Who hast taken thy loving glance

and left mine heart no more to dance?

 

Could I a sorcerer conjure some potion

and thus assure eternal devotion?

 

Would I a King compel you near,

and drive you by some noble fear?

 

Or if, a God would I command

come to me now, walk hand in hand?

 

Sure not true friend gone far astray,

‘tis not for me to judge thy chosen way.

 

But hold this space for thy return,

will I for thee and without spurn.

 

With open arms to hold close once more,

now, the ‘morrow, and evermore.