Thanksgiving Poem

This poem was written by my partner and lover of 9 years, Ralf. Though english is not his first language, he always had a way with words. (he is German) His spirit taught me so much about attitude and perseverance. He is an old soul. Though we are no longer together, I believe we still have a connection. I am honored and gratified to have been his lover. Thank you, Ralf. With love, David

Happy Thanksgiving to all my friends out there. I hope you have warm, smiling eyes to gaze into and laugh with as you break bread together on this most universal of holidays.

Thanksgiving is a moment to remember
How little we can do to move the stars.
All we are and have we must surrender,
Nor is Earth less inscrutable than Mars.
Knowing this, we know the need for friends
Sharing both our pleasures and our pain,
Giving, though it may not serve their ends,
In joy the love that will our love sustain.
Very much like water in a lake,
In sum we serve as mirrors to the sky.
No one alone can heaven’s picture take.
Given friends, we know the reason why.

by Ralf

Sonnet for M

Some impressions you have formed of me
tell you I wear the mantle of a snob,
(since I seem proud, opinionated and free)
and given the public successes in my job.
Yet I’m more fragile than it seems.
Lacking wit, I’m vulnerable to pain
especially when my heart with love does beam.
Dwelling in paradox, I am target for disdain.
You are a puzzle waiting to be solved,
though fear keeps you from letting love evolve.
But I’ve no key and your heart remains locked
So I feel I intrude where I ought not.
Your face is blank emotion. Do I belong?
I only wish to please you with my song.

Technorati tags- sonnet, love sonnet

Feeling Safe

Safety comes in many forms.
Most are safe from the weather and storms,
from rain and cold, but some are not.
What would it be like to be in their shoes?
Could we think pretty thoughts,
Of love and affection, and colors for our rooms?

There’s another kind of safety which concerns me more.
It comes from within, from our minds and our thoughts.
I feel safe in my brain most of the time.
But then sometimes I realize I’m blind,
that I really feel covered only when I build a hat
to block my conscience from saying
I’m safe because they’re not.

Gratitude helps me feel beyond my hard head.

Technorati tags- gratitude, poem, security

Seasonal Poems to Warm the Soul

Happy Winter Solstice! I may not be religious in the traditional sense, but I understand and cherish the importance of the “spirit of the season”.

As many of you know, Jesus wasn’t born in December, but his birthday was placed near the pagan Roman holiday of Saturnalia by Constantine to encourage pagans to join the church. The celebration of light and rebirth appeals to all.

Over the years I’ve written various poems for the season. Some are just ruminations on the mood, some are about the solstice, but all, I think convey universal sentiments. I’ve linked to some and printed others in a list here. Enjoy.

—
Rhythms of the Seasons
—
Noël
—
Sacrificial Tree (two poems)
—
Jingle Ironies
—
A Simple Gift
—

Inspire Beauty

Beauty calls and yearns for your attention,
it gives rise and dimension to your soul,
a reflection of your truest goals.

Lest we forget, our hearts are fueled
by a love enduring beyond our lives.
And beauty is its chaperon,
a spark through the dark nights
on the long walk
to the light of the mountain top.

All we have is each other.

May the comfort of love be with you.

Writing a Poem

I see the shapeshifting reality bulge
around the illusory hibiscus I could never match.
Veils of words needs constant shattering
to lighten thick, moldy layers of thatch.

My heartbeats come forth, secretly billowing,
burning new myths from a crimson flower.
I can’t help but lose myself, drowning,
reborn in this burgeoning, transformative power.

Staying open is toughest, free falling and bare
naked and hanging, having dropped from the sky.
Then the petaled plate tells me with it’s one eyed glare
to listen and watch, with laser focus, and try

To write these gossamer sheets of implausible power,
wispy, tenuous wings, burgundy eyefuls of red meat.
I tally this time to sit and stare, hour to hour
and find it’s telling me to just sit, watch and be complete.

I wrote this on a challenge to create on the spot from Jessamyn on her post, Sunday Scaffolding.