Oh a poet’s heart
can love a stranger from the start.
She can dive deep
or force her heart to leap.
With one simple talk
her heart can be shown to walk.
Reality does not hold her down;
not when love can be found all around.
If you would like to read more of my poetry please take a look at my portfolio or watch a few of my poetry readings.
I walk multiple paths in life.
My life is a combination of journeys,
all taking place at the same time
all taking their own time.
I look at the journeys I walk
and try to see where I’ve been
to see where the path leads.
I look back to see where I’m going
seeing the past as hints to the future.
On one journey
I am an artist;
dancing towards acting
while I write my paintings,
soon I’ll sculpt my imagination
trying new ways to shine my mind,
but always keeping pen near paper
to pour my emotions out with ink.
On one journey
I walk and journey
alone and with friends.
We talk in the silence
and let the silence talk for itself,
with my voice starting soft
growing as I crawl along,
only being able to be heard
when I discover myself around a bend.
Then love like a flood starts to pour out
and I learn to love by loving;
I learn to be loved.
On one journey
I am alone.
friends beside me,
Family supporting behind me
and God leading ahead of me,
but no one of my own.
On this journey there is an air of not knowing.
not knowing,
Is this how it will always be?
I look at the journeys I walk
looking back to see where I’m going
seeing the past as hints to the future.
I see a loved artist,
a strong, loyal friend,
and a happily single adventurer.
I needed a vacation,
so I took a walk.
When needed a nap
I sat by the ocean,
and when I needed to feel love
I watched the sunset.
You see I don’t need much
just the ocean breeze,
a warm bed to lay my head
and the beach to remind me of my home.
I walk down a hard grey path that has tiny bumps that would be unpleasant to walk barefooted on. There are dwelling places on both sides of this path with some green ground coverings. I walk down until I see an artificial looking hill that uses a combination of flat surfaces and tiny smooth cliffs. I walk down this built hill and find that the land below it is different.
This land has no path and is not as solid as the path or artificial hill. Â Tiny grains of tan, white, and brown move under my feet as I walk. I am moving the land under me as I hear a rhythm of strange movement. There is a massive body of liquid creating this musical noise. The liquid mass stretches far beyond my sight and moves up as it sounds its rumbling music, but then it is pulled away. I pause and the clear liquid rushes over my feet. It is cold and I do not dare go in any further. Although what rushed over my feet was clear as the volume grows it becomes hard to see the ground or what is in the liquid.
I stay on the moving land before going back to the artificial hill and down the grey path.
I took a walk today to give myself time to think. I walked down to  the beach, thinking inspiration will find me with my feet in the sand. Yet, even before I stood on the shore I was reminded of my mind and a muse came whispering in my ear. He said, “feel your feet on the rough ground below. The asphalt hurts the soles of your feet, right?” Yes, the road below me was rough and hard to walk on without any shoes being worn. Still, I walked on knowing that the rough road would make the soft sand feel that much better.
I got to the stairs that led to my destination of cooling sand on this wonderfully peaceful evening to find that the night had long-held claim over the steps. The darkness of this alley way was caused by the two homes that blocked any moonlight or street light from entering. Still I felt the each step on my way down knowing that once I turned the corner there would light once more.
Now, at the bottom with my feet in the sand and my eyes taking in the romantic moonlight, the ocean breeze blew cold. For a moment I thought it was too cold, but when my ears opened they heard the breeze creating a melody with the ocean’s waves crashing on the shore and the distant wind chimes singing like bells, I knew that no cold would be too much for this beauty. The breeze then felt fine and reminded me that my body was still hot from the workout at the gym. The wind became a comfort not a burden, calming me instead of shutting my senses down.
I walked along the dark shore keeping my senses aware but my mind was thinking. It realized that although the road was rough relief came. Although times were dark,I light was found around a corner. Finally, my mind realized that although it may seem like the wind is cold if you change your perspective something that seems like a burden can be a comfort.
I walk with sand on my feet
with water rushing my toes.
My eyes point down
I lose reality
picturing a warm hand to hold
contradicting the cold ocean water
happy smiles on his face
as we silently walk in companionship
joining our hearts with friendship
and learning love through our eyes.
I walk with sand on my feet
with water brushing my toes
and dream a dream
I never really wanted to be mine.
Ghazal
A Ghazal is a poem that is made up of an odd numbered chain of couplets, where each couplet is an independent poem. It should be natural to put a comma at the end of the first line. The Ghazal has a refrain of one to three words that repeat, and an inline rhyme that precedes the refrain. Lines 1 and 2, then every second line, has this refrain and inline rhyme, and the last couplet should refer to the authors pen-name… The rhyming scheme is AA bA cA dA eA etc.
In a meadow I walk
with a friend I do talk.
Among the blooming flowers,
amidst tall bladed grass we talk.
Swept in a fantasy land
our imaginations are explored as we talk.
In a field I walk
with a friend I do talk.
While we converse
we explore all things about talk.
How can language be used
what ways can we talk?
We tell each other about fantasy lands
and let our imaginations talk.
We describe the flowers among us
and hear the words of the grass that we talk.
In open and in nature I walk
with a friend I do talk.
I’m not sure if I did this right. What do you think?