I am no poet I am an observer A curious wallflower Peering into the places most do not dare The voyeur blending in and watching Keenly aware of the scene and vibe
I am no poet I am a witness A lyrical historian Peeling back the layers of what is obvious Making note and taking measure Commenting on the beauty and the bruise
I am no poet I am a documentarian A mental photographer Describing the visage of the soul Capturing the form of feeling Casting light on dreams
I am no poet I am an illustrator A linguistic artist Scratching lines on paper Forming images from curves of ink Building portraits from words
I am no poet I am a woman A single breathe in the wind Performing no obvious magic Sharing the same life experience Human and divine
Here is you bear All worn from love Or perhaps adorned with it Your partner in your slumbering adventures Defender against all that scares you It is your beacon in the darkest night It's felted heart doused in the Nostalgia of your mother's perfume Tangible reminder of lingering embraces That will greet you again in the light of morning Goodnight my little bears Hold each other tight
I am looking for the counterpoint to my melody A voice both hauntingly harmonic and intriguingly independent That when blended with mine creates a masterpiece
Love feels like Pandora's Box of contradicting experiences Love alights you upon a mountain top of elation And sequesters you in a dungeon of anxiety Love can feel like Elysian Fields And Dante's Inferno Love can make you feel like an accomplished genius And the village idiot Love gives your soul wings And your body two left feet Love makes poetry of your dreams And salad of your words Love inspires amazing highs And devastating lows Love is celebrated when it arrives And mourned when it departs Pleasure and pain separated by fate's coin toss A game of chance we cannot stop playing
I want to revisit the joy of cartwheels in summer grass Serenaded by the wing beats of bees and the chorus of hummingbirds and sparrows I want to drowse amongst dandelions while playing Warshak games with passing clouds in azure skies I want to hide beneath curtains of willow branches Making friends of the trees with whispered secrets
I want to run time backward To when summer days were never ending And daydreams frolicked in the warmth of long lazy unburdened afternoons I want to sit suspended in the amber of youthful memory Its glowing lens casting every scene in warm nostalgic hues Golden hour light cast upon fading Kodachrome images That compose dust mote-filled summer slideshows of my heart
You smile uncomfortably Staring into the lens of the camera Your shoulders pulled high All of your self consciousness visible in your eyes You don’t know what to do with your hands You do not know how to drop your walls on request
I wish you could see yourself through my eyes The photographer’s eyes Eyes that see the sparks that spill off of you Every time you laugh The natural glow on your cheeks The beauty of the asymmetrical smile Caused by the single dimple That only appears when your face Is animated by genuine joy The unguardedness of your body language When you are feeling safe and comfortable Hands animating your stories with Increasing enthusiasm as you speak
I want the viewer to see the three dimensions of you Hidden within your two dimensional portrait I want the viewer to want to know you Drawn in by all the small clues of you Leading viewers toward the vastness of you I want the viewer to discover your dimple Question what crinkles the corners of your eyes Be captivated by the joy radiating from your natural smile
If I have done my job well Your photo will feel familiar to a stranger You will appear as approachable as any friend If I have done my job well I will have created a likeness of you That asks you to befriend and love yourself As much as those of us who know you love you If I have done my job well You will have premised me to alchemize A tiny fraction of your soul So all who come to know you through your image Will wonder what magic they missed in the opportunity to know
My significant other Is more other than significant now I wish I felt better about this fact I do not miss the now of him I’m still in love with the then of him When love knocks you can never know The beauty or horror in its entourage You believe love can conquer all And learn that love is often not enough My significant other left A significant mark on me That is hardly insignificant
And so comes the end of the heaviest chapter The plot twisted dramatically In the hands of an unreliable narrator Linear time fractured Slowed Ran backward Perspectives shifted Creating more confusion than clarity
Muted colors of nostalgia dull recollections Emotional sharpness blunted The hollow ache of a long goodbye Completed with the deliberate placement Of an arch-ending period.
The next act begins with a page turn “THE NEXT CHAPTER” written atop it
Words Wishes and Wisdom 