Poem: There are things we kept secret

you gazed at me from the corner of the eye

as I drifted miles away, dazzling thoughts and a tempestuous heart

every now and again, I get lost in this man-mad madness

as we sail this mortal coil

from out of that darkness, headlights appear

many have wandered down this path

always stopping at red lights

every passenger has his burden to carry

words said can't be forgotten

thoughts have a way of becoming an opinion, a critique

and they seem to glue themselves to our very existence

there are things we kept secret

after all the butterflies flew out from our mouths

but you seem to know the song I'm singing

and I give you my body to share its fragility and strength

*

Written for a poetry prompt by the real toads.

Poem: Houses breathe us in

Photograph by Margaret Bednar

"I'm always drawn back to places where I have lived, the houses and their neighborhoods" - Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany's

*

houses breathe us in

their walls dripping with time past, entwine lifelines

the museums of our triumphs, failures and milestones

all filled with stains from which we grew

places we've been to are wired like electrons to our memories

returning, revisiting at any moment

from the forests where the battles of history unfolded

to the mists of the April rain showers

and the sunlight of the evening catching your desires

you were there,

                that's why it matters

a certain feeling, a sound - like a silk tread

pierces through our hearts, evoking a traveller within

*

Written for a prompt by Margaret at the real toads.

Poem: I knew you

I knew you,

although I'm sure 

our paths haven't crossed before

I knew you, 

like I know my toes

sipping warmth from the soil

I knew you, 

like I know my fingers

steeped in paint

I knew you, 

like I know the rhymes

I form from out of that internal dialogue

I knew you, 

like I know the crooked smile

I leave when I do something mischievous

I knew you, 

like I know that if we wore the same shoes

the steps we'd take would be unique for each one of us

despite the difference of opinion

or for that reason in particular

we are to be and love one another

*

Poem: Imperfections

above the treetops

                birds extend their wings of freedom

the thoughts you hold inside keep your mind captive

after a certain amount of time spent

you grow accustom to this silence between the walls

disrupted by a rhythmic spreading of the lungs

as if wind were dusting off the dirt

that the road has left on us
 

the world we create

                forces us; to convert our values

- our faces to fit the made up standards

making a race to keep up with the money-making machine

selling youth and beauty, labeling age as a disease

friends turning into numbers, and we're adding them up

on screen, once they have passed the test

                caved in under the pressure

into a swirl it grabs us

some never realize the slaves they've become

others shed a tear for the person they could've been

                                  *

I listen to your voice

                taking me places I've never seen before

and you said: »I love the moon for its imperfections.«