3 poems

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:-)

 

Bait

 

I could say life's a gift

but that may full well repulse someone

to say: no, it's a curse.

 

Possibly. The curse

of giving what's already received,

the dark shroud of ignorance

masking the abundance at hand

almost itching to be passed around.

 

Occasionally rather than comfort

the itch may sting but don't scratch it

or the resistance to its presence

will most likely only seem more acute.

 

Cool it and let the skin tide drift

as it comes and goes or hops

like the redwhite bobber

tossed on the surface for the

(who knows what adjective) purpose

of indicating whether the fish

has clamped its unwitting jaws.

 

~~~

 

Heartsong

 

what I love is what I am.

what loves me is too.

is what? whatever longs

intensely enough to be.

 

I love you and you love me

and through our love

we escape the limitations

of our being. we stroke them

and reaching orgasm

they slip inside us

(never to be seen again)

ceasing to define the edges

of what we can become.

 

so on our way there

although my voice

may never tremble

its audible treble

I'll open myself

for the heart to step

out of its silent beating

turn all the senses into ears

and as long as the body

allows me to undergo

composition, sing.

 

~~~

 

Subway Morning Violin

 

the violin player slides again

and the day rolls on,

never allowed a moment's rest,

nor does it seem to mind

our presence, whatever

silly or seriousness we could do.

 

could the ocean ever tire

to the point

where it wouldn't wet the earth?

 

would you will yourself to sleep

if the miracle of all creation

begged you like a child for its mother

to simply let it enrich and enliven

the journey of your waking?

 

or how about give up sharing

simply because you're love woven

whether you live it or not?

 

no pressure though, the music is

sweet and something tells me

you'll see the truth of our fellowship

even if it takes the loss of you

to see.

 

- Tykal