Category: Poetry book 2 (Page 2 of 2)

A Balance in Love

February 19, 2019 / Tom

I have felt,
Swayed so in my fears,
Lost in my happenstance,
Creating illusions from the shadows on my wall.

Who is she,
This fragrance unforgettable,
The one raising my conscience soul,
From the slumber of 2000 days?

Who am I,
Or rather who do I wish to be?
The one who was carved from stone,
Or the shards left strewn about at the mercy of the breeze?

What is love,
If not the breath of mountain air,
A salvation from all exhaustion,
The miracle that pulls us from the tomb?

What is love,
If not the hand that steadies me when shaking?
The idea that comes to me in the absence of my mind,
It is what I’ve been born to know.

Steady me when my ground is shaking.
Breathe life into me when the end seems near.
Be there when that final bell,
Of that final round,
Rings and all I can do is shout your name.

I can steady myself for sure,
I have done it a million times before,
But what is love,
If not my acceptance of the hand that holds it?
If not the breath of life renewed?
If not the face that guides me beyond that final bell?

Know, that in your moments of unsteadiness,
I hope my hand is the one you reach for,
In the moment you feel you can walk no more,
My name brings you to your feet.
In the second that you face the demons in your mind,
You know that my sword is unsheathed to protect you.
Should you call,
I will answer.

For what is love,
If not who I am?
And who am I,
If not the gentle pools you bathe?

Unconditional (A Poem)

February 18, 2019 / Tom

I remember when there was this dream I had,
She’d be sleeping in the dark,
And all I could do is hear her breathing.
Something would make her stir,
Perhaps it was desire awakening in her dreams,
Or the way the spring breeze bathed her through the window.
Whatever it was,
I remember I could hear her say my name,
And I replied, “Yes, my love,”
She said then, “I just wanted to make sure you were there,
That I wasn’t dreaming,
So that if I was,
I would not awaken,
Tonight, tomorrow, or any other day.”

I remember the tear that spilled from my heart that night,
With her still sleeping in the dark.
And in my soul prose was written that would endure eternity.
I would not leave her,
and she would awaken,
Just because she could,
Me doing nothing but watching her sleep,
Honoring the solemn sound of her breath,
Protecting her sacred space.
With the chrysalis broken wide open,
In the morning I knew that she would fly,
And I’d be witness yet again to what was always amazing.
I could only hope to keep up,
To the one who was surely born to fly.

I uttered a prayer as her breath returned to sleeping,
Nothing but the simple want of a man born to watch her soar.
A prayer that someday she would grow to realize her authority,
And see how the willows stand tall to meet her gaze,
And the grasses bend softly to hold her resting form.
Perhaps then she’d still love me,
Tickle my senses with the flowers blooming in her field,
Kiss me tenderly as the Moon undressed us in its light,
Know love as I held her tightly to keep the dew from forming on her skin,
Listening to her breathe,
Always answering her call when she stirred awake
Before the morning light,
Waiting for the morning Sun to announce its sweet arrival,
And I watch her fly again another day.

That Power That You Are

February 12, 2019 / Tom

Oh, My Goodness,
I see the power that you are,
The power that you share,
The power that brings demons to their knees.

You are the power
That lifts the Sun above life’s horizon,
Like Love’s sweet tempered mallet,
That breaks the very bonds of dawn.

You are the power
That moves the ether to a breeze,
Moves the grains of sand of every mountain,
Your breath gives the beaches to the sea.

You are the power
That dots the evening sky,
Changes darkness with a twinkle,
And points this mariner to home.

It’s you, for you are the power,
That floats the birds to kiss the clouds,
Do not doubt this,
Lest they all fall to the ground.

Now give yourself silently to prayer,
Let the words rise up within you,
Touch the hand of love that sits upon your chest,
And know the power that you are.

I Know Truth (A Poem)

February 11, 2019 / Tom

I run in fields,
See the butterflies as painted in a picture,
They call to me,
Then laugh at me,
And push me far away.

I see the sunrise,
The bright star piercing through my soul,
First warming me,
Then burning my tempered, weathered skin,
Where dust is I shall return.

I speak your name,
I hear it echo in the caverns,
An unrequited song to my own ears,
Through snow and muck I run to you,
A tear cleansing my dusty face.

Distant paths have led to here and now,
Suffering, my great sculptor,
Though tired I may be,
I’ve spent forever for this moment,
Enduring just to stand beside you in the unfolding.

I beg life to leave me smiling for once,
Have I not earned this moment in the Sun?
Have I not paid the price to see her bloom?
Surely I have chiseled away the stone
That kept me from my truest self.

Though fog today hides the mountains from my eyes,
I see them clearly in my heart,
I climbed them once just for my own view,
I climbed them again just to reach the top,
Now I climb them just to get to you.

There we dance around the fire,
Kindled by the wisdom of our union,
Unique though we are we are so much the same,
I know you in the caverns of my Being,
I know you in the orange flicker of that flame.

I know myself through years of understanding,
I know love through years of soulful solitude,
I now know something else in the depth of our communion,
In the sweetness of your voice,
In the waves of passion gifted me in your touch.

I know truth.

Truth granted me in your sacred arrival,
Blessed through my own falling and rising,
Rising and falling,
In silence and in the chaos of this mind,
Seen now in the flowering stillness of soulful love.

Though conflicted I may seem to be,
In battles waged between heart and mind,
I know some sweet remembrances in this lifetime,
In those conflicts waged I know this certain difference,
Love now has its due on this battlefield.

So take my hand,
The hand you’ve known for many lifetimes,
The hand that will always support you,
Even though you stand completely on your own,
Oh, love, the marigold blooms on her own even while dancing in the breeze.

Like two pieces of one big puzzle,
Know our union will not need change you,
But will certainly help complete the picture.
Like the wind helps the flower share her fragrance,
And the flower shares moonlight in her glow.

So blessed I am,
To know truth in the way I say your name,
To know truth in the way you whisper mine.
I now sleep, waiting for the new day,
When I run in fields not afraid of butterflies.

~TG