Countdown

Three
      Two
       Once again there
Where pain and love merge
           into One

Not Haiku

The murmur of love,
the song of a bird, can lie;
plumage bright hides truth from sight.

After All

Battleship gray at the beach
     or is it gunmetal blue?
Living with myself
     versus living alone;
Incapable of self-love,
the promise of always
proves to have been too arrogant
after all.

Were I Him

I close my eyes
     begin to pray,
tears of sorrow streak my face.
     Love ended today.

Were I him
     whom I should be
my flaws might fall
     to let you see
just what I am,
     that I am me.

So walking alone
     even shadow deserted,
heart beat slowing to allow
     pain from what I did
to swell inside, growing
     to mistrust of those around
from whom now fleeing
     my life might ground.

A Tough Season

Drawn by time
inexorably to his winter
an ancient soul, emptied of life,
bound for the sacrifice
reflecting on just how hard the fall was
now that the hour glass
has been fixed to the table;
that was not his best season.

Making mistakes
for which there is no grace,
pain threatens the heart,
the life to which it belongs,
but shows not on his face.

Competing theories abound,
who's right, who is wrong,
now passing as ships in the night.

Haiku 8

Strange, and fearful sight;
her lips move, and speaking not
of descending sun.

Sometimes

Sometimes in the morning

I catch a falling dream

streak across my screen

and I think about a someone

that I will never see again

and now it's only me again.

Sometimes in the morning

I think I hear a phrase

drifting through the haze

from just out of sight

something that she said one night

before we went to bed one night.

Sometimes in the morning

I go back to sleep

trying hard to keep

my memories so deep

wishing she were near

whispering in my ear,

My Love.