Tradition

Tradition is a tree 

with deep roots,

Do not discard 

that which anchors you 

to this earth, 

climb upon its strong limbs 

and stretch your arms out
to the heavens.

Shine

Let your silence 
speak your secrets 
to the light. 
Hide no longer.
You, my darling
were born to shine.

The Aftermath: An Anti-Haiku

Two ghosts sewn to each other. 

After all these years,

I can still smell your shadow.

Keening

"Write me a love song, my darling," 
she begged. "Sing of the stars and the moon.

Say that our love will outburn the sun, 

sing it and make it be true."

Promises made, a song he would write her, 

a ballad of their very own,

Promises broken, unwritten love song, 

maybe she'll sing at his tomb.

Peanut Butter Jelly Time

You are the key to my locked door,

the bridge to my moat,

and the password to my email. 

You are the breath behind my songs 

and the glasses on my face,

and the gasoline in my car. 

You are the peanut butter to my jelly

the sunshine in my summer,

and my dog in every fight. 

You are the pillow on my bed 

and the shoes on my feet,

and I love you.

The Next Best Thing

Rich in questions, answer-poor,

Needing something, wanting more

What do fates have now in store?

Hesitant to even ask

So much unknown about the task-

Hide the fear behind a mask.

Beg the heavens, plead your whys

Search for answers in the skies

All the answers in your eyes.

Always

Love always stays

darling, even though,

sooner or later, 

people must leave. 

Find It

Find it;

seek it out like a bloodhound-

unwavering in your pursuit.

Do not let the darkness 

dampen the sunshine with gloom.

Find the song 

your heart was meant to beat out;

Find the light that was born 

to shine in your eyes.

Two Years Gone

There is senseless evil 

in this world 

my love, 

but do not waste your tears-  

wet and 

sticky as the blood others spill- 

begging to know why.

Evil needs no reason, 

although everything within you 

demands some explanation,

pleads for logic.

There is senseless evil

in this world 

my love,

but do not fear.

I am all the love and logic 

you will ever need. 

National Bad Poetry Day

Write bad poetry, beloved. 

Write it for its own sake-

to hear the words that you have been 

screaming silently 

out loud: 

finally released 

into the wild white. 

Worry not about meter, 

leave your rhymes unschemed. 

Pour yourself, 

unpolished and uncouth, 

onto the paper. 

Sprinkle it with your tears, 

smudge it in your coffee's condensation.
Write bad poetry, beloved, 

for I will treasure what you write. 

Despite it all,

all the words are yours.

Degrees of Sorrow

They had been so in love- 

so smug in love. 

So certain of forever. 

She understood that 

the worst was not over. 

What remained would be duller 

and blunter, 

and she would have to 

stuff the hollows 

that sharp pain left 

with something that 

didn't quite 

fit. 

The End

Their silence had become, 

it seemed, 

a matter of mutual consent, 

and he'd forgotten who had begun it. 

They had gently pulled away 

from each other 

and settled into a mutual politeness 

in which unprovoked speech seemed rude 

and physical contact brazen.

Quit While You're Ahead

It was as if, 
while trying to touch up 
a painting, 
he had inadvertently 
washed out the entire thing, 
so thoroughly 
that he had forgotten 
what he'd been trying to paint 
in the first place.

Skin Deep: A Found Poem from The Lost Wife

There are 

sensations of skin 

you will 

always remember: 

the first time 

you fall in love- 

and that person 

holds your hand- 

you are sealed 

to the other 

for eternity. 

I fall into memory 

like a soft-cushioned chair. 

I smell a lifetime 

of happiness. 

I close my eyes 

and see us 

growing old 

together, 

our hands knotted 

together- 

wrinkled and brown. 

The Canvas

I am only a 

smear of paint,

my love,

but you-

you are a room 

full of perfect 

blank canvases.

Let me stain you;

I will bring out the 

greatness

that was 

always

yours.

You Can't Measure Love (No, You Just Have to Have Faith)

You can't 

measure love 

the way you can 

the length of a road 

or the height of a building. 

You cannot 

weigh it 

like a bunch of grapes 

or a nugget of gold. 

Leagues will never measure 

its depths, 

nor light years 

its farthest reaches. 

You cannot 

hold love 

in your hand:

it has no color, 

no shape, 

no texture over which 

you might run your fingers. 

Love has 

no scent, 

no taste, 

it is nothing you can hold 

under your tongue 

or between your teeth.

And yet-

who among us is foolish enough

to doubt the existence of 

love? 

The Witch of Portobello: A Found Poem

She didn't want to answer 

that question 

and so I asked it again: 

when mouths close, 

it's because there's 

something important 

to be said. 

That was the 

only time I 

dared to ask her: 

"Why do you love me?"

She replied: 

"I don't know 

and I don't care." 

Love simply is.

Once in a Blue Never

Once in a blue moon 
just isn't that rare, 
it's the blue sun that's rising 
that makes people stare. 

Small Things

Let me fix the small things, Love

I dare not try the big.

You're hungry?

I will make a snack.

Tired?

I will sing.

You've hurt yourself?

I'll kiss it, 

or a bandaid I will bring.

Let me fix the small things, Love

I cannot fix the world.

They hate you?

I can't teach them love.

They spurn you?

Then just go.

They'll hurt you if you let them, Love

I wish it weren't so.

Let me fix the small things, Love