The Foolish Heart (take two)

I made a promise to myself that I would pass by and leave no wake...
that I would respond to those around me with a benign disposition,
not cold....and certainly not hot.

The foolish tend to declare the unlikely...
so it is with me.

I have shamelessly fallen...

I have seen the spark of Love within my bosom again...
i once thought it to be forever gone...
trampled under the feet of a heartless brood.

No...my heart is not dead...
This fool declares it so.

Rome

Marked as spam When she  walks towards me...I am as a ghost... quick to fade. Others see her for her obvious beauty ....her smile, her eyes... I do too....and yet... I have seen another side of my beautiful " city.".... her laugh, her cries, her heart that still loves despite the torment that fate has bequeathed upon her. I see her frame that still stands tall... despite those that would have her fall. I want to tend her gardens...I want to carress her and keep her safe from the darkness. Does she know this of me?  Have I kept this secret for too long? Should I leave these shores my Love and come to you? Will you call for me?      How shall I recognize your voice? Will I hear you through the distance? Am I just a hopeless romantic to experience his own shipwreck? I know of the gulf between these two oceans ~ and I am forever drawn to chase away the distance.. So be it.... I have seen these shores far too long... So be it. Gregory

Wonder Tree

Like you, I change with the season...
like a shape-shifter...we seem to always alter our appearances
to fit the model...the design....
but unlike you,
I morph into a multitude of sentiments...
until only a mirage of my former self remains.

...now i am a stranger to you,
and even to myself.
...i close my eyes and wait for the Spring to come.

gregory

shopping madness notes

the crowds are stampeding through the mall,
spending what little they have,
anticipating sales and "events"...
packed in aisles...backs to the wall.

what is it they really hope to find?
something small, something big...
one of a kind?

no...just deeper in debt...
more stuff...no job to pay for the stuff...
and a new calendar to plan for next year's
blackest of Friday's.

sitting....

so i sit.
staring at this wall...
neither alive,
or dead.

somewhere in between...
i am.

somewhere folded upon my breath...
i rest.

somewhere touching the icey cold window pane...
i look.

it is this stillness the gives me identity...
neither irish nor american...white....nor black...
male nor female...

...just still awareness...
i am.

notes to the Elves...

i walk these paths with ease now...
still pondering the choices i have made,
still hestitant to claim my innocence,
or my shame.
i look for your dwellings that once gathered in clusters
'round the Oak Groves of days past.
i search through the brush hoping to find a trace
of my "traceless friends"...
hoping you will share your words with me,
and listen to another lonely voice.
i am a stranger, except here.
this truth i have known for many, many years.
i come to this grove if only to discover what i have lost;
gather what i have gained.
through the branches...the leaves and brush...i see the fireplace waiting
to warm my feet.
i will return to my small cabin,
still to look over my shoulder for your footprints in the snow.

Epitaph

He was prone to tolerance...
and yet steeped in bias.

He searched love...
and when it found him,
he ran like a coward from the field.

He loved life...
and yet, never really lived.

He dabbled in music, prose
and poetry...
Yet struggled to understand the
obvious.

Here he lies...
Under the fallen leaves and ton
Of dirt...