This Woman is a Poem

This woman is a song

her voice plays a gentle sound

with no more a pleasant syllable

to ever pass me.

This woman is a poem

her movements a graceful meter

with such soothing articulations

I read her thin lines out loud.

This woman is a flower

her passions blooming

with effortless substance

and quiet grace.

Though she won’t know

my words are for her,

I whistle her tune

I recite her lines

I cherish her petals…

and oh when I see her,

how I smile

at all this woman is to me

yes this woman,

she is a poem.

I hope she knows.

Only a Moment

Don’t give up

for sometimes,

on a blue hammock under green trees

under a warm blanket of bird tweets

owl hoots

and cricket chirps,

I can touch peace

ever so lightly –

with just my finger tips.

Please be brave

because occasionally,

in a calm bath

listening to slow piano

under red lights

I can feel serenity,

she is weightless

soundless –

kind to me.

Reflect in that possibility

the eternal chance

to touch a peace

feel a serenity

and be truly


empty –

If only for a moment.

Mirage of a Bluebird

There was a time

I experienced you in everything:

I saw your face in floating clouds

I smelled your clothes in spring gardens

I tasted your lips in every sugary summer cocktail.


the presence of you

has washed off of my world,

for the most part that is

but every once in awhile…

like a man dying of thirst sees an open oasis,

I too see a mirage

so occasionally…

I rub a flower’s petals in my fingers

suddenly feeling your golden hair

flowing through my fingers again.

Or maybe I see a majestic horse

it’s muscles rippling in a full gallop

reminding me of how fierce you were.

So during these long days that I spend

learning the chasms of my mind

and mapping a new found independence

I maintain my distance from you

giving you complete space,

which hopefully,

soothes the scars

on your already worn heart.

but don’t you ever think

for even a single moment,

that I stopped cherishing those times

or believing in what you can accomplish:

you’ll still change the world

you’ll still heal the broken

just with a greater sense of peace now

for my most genuine apology:

is my absence

my last love poem:

is the peaceful whisper of a gentle ‘goodbye’

in the ear of those passing mirages

(whenever they come around).