Monday, September 30, 2013

Tock

I cannot make my mind run as I would;
I cannot make it sleep by my command
Nor can I order it to think it good
To have my love live in a distant land.
In vain I tell it of the wondrous things
I shall achieve in time spent far away;
By day, to such my self-cognition clings
But by the sky and clock it is not day.
In such a time as this, I cannot force
My mind from where it would all day remain
Did I not channel it a safer course
To keep it, half the time, a working brain.
But as night falls, it turns again to her
And to her side, by which I wish I were.

Wrong City

At every corner that I turn, a part
Of me imagines that you will be there;
While that sly smile that imbues my heart
With every kind of love prompts me to stare
And have you shake your head, impatiently
Asking why that look is on my face
So I can answer most untruthfully
It doesn't matter, and go on apace
Still thrilling with the image of your smile
Treasured in my eyelids' afterglow
Pretending for a momentary while
I can ignore its captivating slow
Fade out of view. But every time I turn
You are not there, and I must simply yearn.

Fading Image

I do not want to hold you in my mind
Just as you were when first we came to meet
For I prefer to know the you I find
By living with you - never yet complete,
Never made final, never done or set,
Forever changing as I change with you.
The people that we were when we first met
Are gone, and the time they lived is through;
Instead I want to see you as you are
And love the person you have come to be;
Not like the beam flung from a distant star
That can shed only its past light on me
But like the flicker of an inner fire
That burns with present love, trust, and desire.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Midnight

There's something odd about an empty room
That's small enough to be a single one
Yet feels it isn't destined for that doom;
That seems as though, before its time is done,
It should be filled by happiness for two
But still is not. It is a limbo place
That stands between what yet is left to do
And has come. The human mind can trace
The future echoes of a time unmet
Which seem to glisten between darkened walls
After the solitary sun has set
And yet before the comfortable night falls
Shining companionship from endless stars
Upon the future and this room of ours.

Saturday, September 21, 2013

Est

I find I can't dispute I've lost some skill
In speaking of my heart with eloquence;
It isn't that I'm bad at making sense
But rather that, attempt it how I will,
No matter what I say, it must seem ill
Because it cannot equal the immense
Pleasure it in theory represents
And since there's always pleasure left to fill
However much I pour and pour in words
In thundering great coalescing herds,
I feel inadequate; my utmost best
Can never in its greatest moment cope
With all my love, nor challenge it in scope.
My words are always worse than what's expressed.

London City

The days here are exciting, but the nights
Are strange - and by the nights I mean the hours
When London shuts itself to foreign sights
From eight o'clock or so - when all the flowers
Are closed against the not yet quite here dark.
Those times are when it would be best to stroll
An almost closed and yet wide open park
And sit with you upon a shady knoll
Watching the clouds go by and people stream
Into the Tube and back into their homes
Skimmed out of London City like the cream
Off milk, as planes to aerodromes
Dive sparkling down. It's strange to watch alone;
As if my sense of sight were overgrown.