I’m a programmer, which means I tend toward logical, analytical (read: boring) thinking. Every once in a while, however, I attempt to free myself from those shackles and tap into the creative half of my brain. I don’t always succeed, but hopefully you’ll enjoy at least one of the poems below, if you’re into that sort of thing. Of course, you won’t find on this page any of the deeply personal, horribly written, or in any other way incredibly embarrassing stuff that I’ve produced, and I assure you there’s plenty.

Sorrow's Joy

I'm certain that I'm happy –
Ask anyone I know.
I'm quick to smile and laugh and joke –
I love life and it shows.
So why do I find comfort in
The melancholy song?
Why when sweet chords of sorrow sing
Must I too sing along?
For all my hopes and dreams reside
Where sorrow can't be found,
Where hearts will never bleed nor break,
Where peace and joy abound.
Yet still the somber blue-gray tones
And wistful weeping strings
Disturb the secret silent pools
Of long-forgotten things;
The smiles, tears, the joys and fears
From inner sanctums flow
And spreading calm like soothing salve –
It’s sorrow’s joy I know.
So now I rest with heavy eyes,
But heart as light as air.
A smile creeps across my lips –
No reason for despair.

 

balsam

Sift this marrow's
    wayward, scattered,
    torn and tattered
skyward hope and
    sorrow spattered.

Paint these colors
    bright and blended,
    star-descended,
down that rope of
    dreams intended.

Lift this sparrow's
    trembling token,
    songs awoken;
pray her voice is
    never broken.

Feel in bones and
    art and singing,
    mercy ringing,
from on high the
    balsam bringing.

 

out an airplane window

i watch the wishes slip across the wings
and search the clouds for endless fading dreams
where white on blue is never what it seems
and hollow hands of hope hew mighty things
but just as every skyward wonder bows
and bids adieu to exit heaven's play
so too these ghostly glories glide away
to leave behind the empty whys and hows
yet in this wake of fleeting fantasy
there drifts the breath to rise and build anew
while ever guiding eyes and heart to see
undying light that pierces through the blue
and so on lands that hide at break of day
we build the dreams that never slip away

 

tears on a rose

with heavy heart I watch the endless tears
meander down to river's edge, then fall,
like lemmings, to drown in the blue current
all the reasons for their troubled being.

and on the banks the trembling daughter cries.
oh, how I wish she'd raise her jaded eyes
to see the budding rose spread out its bloom!
but I've no voice inside this graying gloom
where clouds refuse the sunbeam's gentle clasp
and broken words slip through my hollow grasp.
no, here is where our fear and pain enslave
and gliding shadows come to make their grave,
where splintered hopes are burned to warm the night
while every bitter beast shrinks from its light.
and in the fog the mourner bows his head
and all that's ugly crawls into my bed,
'till stepping out I hear the lonely dove
still weeping for each lost and fallen love ...

but as I turn my eyes back to the girl
who holds the radiant rose up to her lips
I realize I cannot tell her tears
from beads of dew that grace the petal tips.

 

Of Eden’s Fruit

Forbidden fruit ebbed potent love,
To trust that all unknowns are known,
That all we had was good,
That knowing bad is not our own,
Before the sour serpent should
Spin from this will
His evil ill,
And all of Eden’s young ones kill.

Forgiving fruit stems from above,
A salve to soothe the souls that sigh,
That groan in torment’s sun,
It passes by, away we fly,
Before the sinking serpent’s done
His last deceit,
Then death’s defeat,
And Eden’s sons the fruit will eat.

 

a wish dissolved

one vivid gem
   with luster glows
two smiling eyes
   in silence close

one longing heart
   with patience stands
two furrowed brows
   and wringing hands

one question cold
   in winter rain
two ages pass
   before the pain

one wish dissolves
   in shadow's shroud
two searching hearts
   pass in the crowd

 

A Question of Digestion

I huddle in my bed and hide my head from winter fury
And safe within this womb I leave no room for doubt or worry
But with the howling of the fray
Intent on keeping sleep at bay
I think perhaps to pass the time
That I should occupy my mind
Upon a riddle so sublime
No earthly wisdom could divine.
"If bluebirds fly, then why can't I?"
Asked she of Kansas fame,
And when they eat, they save the treat –
Why can't we do the same?
And thus I ponder by what twist of fate or trick of wizard
Was granted to some creatures, be it feathered fowl or lizard
A gift so handy as a pouch to counter indigestion,
And so with lonesome stomach I'm stuck wondering this question;
While outside in the darkness whip the lashes of the blizzard
My heart will burn 'till I discern why I don't have a gizzard.

NOTE: There's a silly story for why I wrote this, but it's not important.