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.

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 

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 

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

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