Seasons

Snow melts slowly
                               into spring.
 A twisted river idles by
                               her hands.
Her voice comes in whispers from
                               wilderness.

Words in smoke rings rise, change
                                        meanings.
 lilac lips tell of winter birds flying to
                              foreign shores.
Tears roll down my throbbing cheeks in
                             twisted rivers.

                     
Promises of last summer, strewn like
                               broken flowers.
Words freeze up, in a lump in
                                 my throat.

April Afternoons

Clouds hover over April afternoons.
Their shadows hang heavy
like curses from old friends.

I long for raindrops on window sills
dripping into forgotten crevices
caressing my aging soul.

My past hovers over April afternoons.
Naked, gaping holes staring.
Empty wanderings, meaningless choices.

Aimless scribbles over coffee tables at dusk.
The heavy breath of darkness
surrounds my withering longings.

Evenings creep in, like age.
Empty promises of rain,
like wishes, like fleeting loves
haunt our days, nights, seasons

The guitar strums slowly

The guitar strums slowly

Songs in the wind, hurt and lonely.

Play in my head, like rainy evening

Empty neon roads, thoughts of loving.

Cloudy nights blur my vision.

Of past loves, rejection.

Of years that flew, like whirlwind

Nights, cigarettes, life's cruel grind.

Only raindrops, I held tight

Few embraces warm, on a cold night

Moon shining on a naked body

A song of life, like parody

Plays in my ears, my mind's eye

and wine stained thought.

A city on Friday rushes by.

Beer and happiness, sold and bought.

The guitar strums slowly. 

Hey Jude, they weep, like in love.

 
in my songs, sad and lowly.

With dew on the grass, and the clouds above.

Alone, on a Nameless Street

Where the dusk wanders, in search of darkness,

Dim twilight rests on your cheek, with a soft caress.

There, we shall meet.

Alone, on a nameless street.

Where your laughter melts into a smile,

Your deep eyes stretch, that blissful mile

.

Where tragedy turns to grief, too cruel to bear,

Sorrow in your moist eyes, sheds a soft tear.

There, we shall meet.

Alone, on a nameless street.

Where our alleys meander, to November graveyards,

Teeming life stares at death, from its fertile barnyards.

Where our crowded cities merge into lonely suburbs,

Its million voices rise, civilized silence it disturbs.

There, we shall meet.

Alone, on a nameless street.

Where our slogans turn to poetry,

Our pamphlets script a new history.

There, we shall meet.

Alone, on a nameless street.

Have you ever been a song?

A spring gliding down the mountain top,

snaking through the plains, an urban backdrop.

Have you moved like rivers, floating in melody?

Lived like a song, through life's tragedy?

When the candles were out, and the sea looked black.

Waves whispered like voices, and her hair fell back.

Jazz on the radio, bodies moved in a rhythm.

Have you kissed like a song, like women in freedom?

When tender fingers caress old, dusty pianos keys,

moonlight melts into sonata, silence in the humming of bees.

Raging fires and passion stand still, a dead volcano.

Have you ever been a song, a warm soprano?