Sunday, July 13, 2014

Listen To Your Heart

Listen to your heart.
don’t let the ghosts of the past
dictate your future.

Listen to your heart,
look for the bright sun beams
and
ride them to your happiness.

Listen to your heart,
don’t be drugged by the letdowns.
Wake up to hope
and
ride the rocket through the pine groves.

Listen to your heart,
it will provide your map to your goal.
What you want to be
will be.
Remember, you are not alone.
We are with you in your journey
and
in your heart too.
Listen to your heart. 

to a special boy 7.4.2014

Friday, June 20, 2014

Information

I just named my current unnamed manuscript "In the Land of Wheatgrass and Oaks"  

Untitled VII


The vivid dreams

that were once my

realism

now lay stark

in the

threshold of time;

Collecting dust at foot

of attics door.

written in 1979 from  "Echoes From the Belltower"

Friday, May 16, 2014

Reflections of Boston

A placid sunset over

architectural feats,

arched bridges;

people

walking briskly with social grace

towards destinations unknown……

Jets

racing towards the clouds

.........reflections...........

from rooftop seats

overlooking the muddy Charles.

written in 1985 

Monday, May 5, 2014

Love Affair


You changed over the years
this left us many a day full of tears.
Your smile does not heal anymore,
your words…. Echoes
missing the substance they once had.
Your thoughts, too focused on yourself
which is ending our love affair.

We are hurt, felt detrayed
and most of all lost as parents.
You had such great hopes
all lost within your self
We hurt no more,
forever ever more
Farewell young man,
life will treat you as you treat it!

This is a work in progress 

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Wanderings

We

walked along a brook

through the night,

past the lampposts, rails,

neon signs and trails along the way.

We

saw people fade completely

out of sight.

Briskly the wind blew

on our stone cold faces,

sneezing from the bitter cold 

inhaling

frozen air into our tender virgin lungs.

We

walked across a pond

past a lighthouse,  a bench.

We

inhaled an ugly stench of

cities life.

We

ran to a mountains retreat

and we stepped briskly, briskly, briskly

towards the gangplank of desire.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

What It Means To Me To Write #2

I thought I would explain what it means to me to write poetry.  Poetry is a way for me to get inside my emotions and thoughts, much like assessing your subconscious with active words. Writing has always been a way for me to explain my thoughts, concerns, friendships, things that have happened, and love. What I could not say or feel on the outside I could write about from the inside. I was 13 when I began to write prose and shortly moved to poetry. It was a succinct way for me to get my thoughts across rather than some ballooned paragraph.  It has been a great way to express my purpose using alliteration and metaphors to really bring out the true hidden thoughts.  Writing, yes, is an escape but it is what makes me truly love life, people, and all the surroundings with a passionate feeling.

Many things inspire me to write and for the most part it is the relationship between me, people I know and my thoughts about them.



Bill 

Friday, April 18, 2014

Passages

I opened my eyes
and saw my sins.
I closed my eyes
and found my way
to weather another day.

I’m calling the ghost
of my past
to help me through the last of my long journey
to
meet my failing breath.

You came into my life;
early when there was lots of strife.
You
resurfaced yesterday when I
closed my eyes
and rekindled our sins and
unshackled my desires.
My journey has ended
as I look into your eyes and wait.
You are a new sun rising from the past.

4.14.2014 

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

The Cavern

Listen to me patiently,

I dream of happenings

lost in a cavern

bound in exuberance

discovered by you.

written in June, 1984 

Fleeting Thoughts on a Rainy Day

                                                            Change is relative
                                                             to personal thought:
                                                             therefore,
                                                             I have not changed.


                                                            I demand not a single thing in life
                                                            but gain nothing
                                                            though silence


                                                            Piano music in
                                                            the background - candlelight

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Daily Desire



Can you hear the harp playing,
taps in the background.
Can you hear the angels singing,
Welcoming to their palace.
Have you heard the trumpet playing,
as you enter the gate.
Can you hear your heart beating
against the echo of your desires.

4.1.2014

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Island Stroll


I closed my eyes
and drifted away
to places were we can play
for ten thousand days.

We walked hand and hand
feet squeaking in the sand
wind blowing gently,
hair waving happily.

Sweet smell of wild beach flowers,
overhead
sun soaked beaches
lovers getting drenched
in warm trade wind showers.

Sun setting over aquamarine waters,
waves gently crashing,
passions and love continues to blossom, each hour
constantly rehashing
latent beginnings
opening new doors.

Eyes dotted with green sparkles
blue spheres
body, lightly tanned
walking closely together with another man
exchanging profound words
harmony
hand in hand.

New partners playing together
Not so oddly
as life begins changing
creating a new horizon
slowly, calmly
their focused thoughts
on a lonely beach
together forever
savoring the day’s sun.

Friday, March 14, 2014

Reflections #1

A placid sunset over

architectural feats,

arched bridges;

people

walking briskly with social grace

towards destinations unknown……

Jets

racing towards the clouds

.........reflections...........

from rooftop seats

overlooking the muddy Charles.

Thursday, March 6, 2014

Reunion #1

Voices from the past, 
and from the present
all brought together 
by the net.

A joyous gathering;
some not heard from for many years
creative, jovial
a close knit family who honors 
friendship and work 
brought together... forever
by a place called Cahners.

3.6.2014

Friday, February 28, 2014

Somewhere I Belong



lonely, confused, and sad,
it feels as if i was just a shadow of the day,
in light i exist and in darkness, i am gone!


what am i searching for?
when i have nothing else to search for!
surrounded by all sides, i try my best to survive,
but i have only 2 hands!


i run, i run as fast i could,
till i have no breath and no roads left,
but i end up where i started from;


drowning in my bloodshed tears,
searching for a place where i belong,
i stand alone, wandering and wondering
What am I supposed to do?



by Praveen from Poetryoflife.com 

Open Heart

Hear my heart throb
in the stark of night
out of sight
and beating heavily 
as the stars twinkle 
bright.

Sun catches the first glimpse of treetops
pillows soft and cool
as I wake up in new light
in a warm pool
of life.

Gone are the fears of fallibility
even as I am feeble
in my thoughts,
my heart throbs lightly
and hold on to those things
not bought
love. 

Saturday, February 1, 2014

Return

Twenty years

of quiet travel transcended by

blowing winds traversing through poignant canyons

as short tidbits have been telegraphed to a wayward star.

Forgotten is your flowing hair

like the distant sunset in the West.

Echoes of laughter, arguments

cloaked in naive

love.

Years asleep, I revisited our familiar meeting place

and

as assent prevailed, bright light was slowly overcome by

darkness,

I heard again,

the Echoes from the Belltower.


Unconnected

A light footed morning step

casting a cautious shadow

before the earth rise.

Streaming fingers of light,

brighten a breakfast feast.

Seen from above the cast

is a beard of thoughts,

stubble from yesterday's cleansing walk.


Monday, January 27, 2014

Turbots Creek

I walked into your abandon room

stare at charred pink hair

ribbons that

soon

evoked

memories of your pet frog

and you

as I shut the door behind me.

Friday, January 24, 2014

Lost

I’ve been sitting here, wondering,
how I ended up in the place I’m in.
Where do I go, where am I from?
All I know for now is how far I have come.
Hopped in my grave, the chemical route,
til she grabbed my heart, and pulled me out.
As I sit, I remind myself
who helped me figure what I’m all about.

How did I let this catch hold of me
and turn me to a ghost to be.
I know this road would always end
and at the expectation of my best friends.


written by Derek 1.1.2013 or so 

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Dreamscape


I am nothing but a dreamer,
thinking as I stroll along a lonely road. 

Sunlight knives through the tree tops
warming my heart with a picture show. 

I am nothing but a dreamer 
and I want my dreams to come true,
you know what I mean
so help me see the light
and
escape the night.

Join me on my trip
remember I am only a dreamer!!. 

1.22.2014

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Child's Thought

Thunder,

lightning bolts from Thor,

blinding, scorching power.

Calm,

little feet and welled up eyes,

a mixed and broken sentence;

touching power.

Serenity,

a light rain shower.

laughing rainbows,

budding flowers.

Thunder,

sunshine, a sideways sneaker,

a powerful call....

Daddy, I love you.

1.7.2007


Monday, January 13, 2014

Mountain Climber

A mountain climber

soaring upwards towards

the snow white

clouds.

Breaths short, yet

clear.

Weaving in and out through

pines and birch

etching his way tediously,

slowly,

perfectly painting his way.

Flickers of sunlight thoughts,

birds flying freely

gliding beyond his reach.

Night befell the climber

as he sleeps beneath

a living tree. Hoot owls

crying matefully into the night

dew drops sprinkling his

sandy balding hair.

Again besieged by the top,

so clear

in the new day.

Finally climber ascends to reach the tree tops

and without falter

finds his dream

top.........free and fresh

SMALL EXPRESSIONS

Thou you see my passions never unrolled,

this young poets tale will never be

told.

He is at a loss of expression, and

will someday teach the world a lesson.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Daybreak

Morning.............................

Reflections-reflections

a cracked window pane

rests on cluttered pasts and fond provoking love.

The incumbent passer

throwing a deflated dream

to an invisible receiver

never reaching

that lovely passing beam.

Sunset........................

no reflections

searching

as though it my seem

Morning..........................

Personal Politico


I impeach my thoughts

veto my aspirations

and what do I end up with,

a epitaph written in

the tide washed sand.