Author: poetryfest

you came to me in a dream last night
like you had never left.
i knew the instant i saw you.
i held you tightly in my arms,
taking in everything about you.
not as if you had slipped from my memory
but because it had been so long
since the image i had of you
was one with you living and breathing.
and suddenly i forgot i was dreaming–
you and i were together like old times.
the past had been rewritten
to form the reality i once wished for.
in an instant my eyes opened,
greeted by rays of light and silence–
the morning mocked me with its likeness
to the day you took your last breath.
and i stayed there, just as i did before,
knowing that every day after,
i would awaken to a life without you.

Despite hunting
the balm of hymn or mantra,
I’ve yet to grasp the prayer
for the death of an idea.
There is no altar.
Nowhere to lay my flowers down
as tears fall from my mind’s eye
into the ocean of all I’d dreamed.

There is no sacred place for mourning
this picture of a life. Made fiction by
reality (or, my sorry choices).
Still, I ache for all I had imagined for myself.
The silver edge of possibility
worn down, made dull
by sand in my hourglass.

– Grieving Expectations

A secret system
A hidden way of life
someone out there is finding
finding out what the world is about
finding the answers
someone out there is searching…
on a cold winter night
1000 years ago
a knight stood guard at a castle
with a grey mist
came snow
the knight fell asleep
he became feverish
and soon he woke
his body burning
no feeling left in his fingers or feet
he jumped at the sight of a blue jay
And the green spring trees
he had slept
like a hibernating bear
through all of winter
when he walked through the streets
he knew something felt off
the whole town had left him
in the spirit of frost
as he walked out the castle
he glanced over his shoulder
there was a dark soul behind him
The knight turned and swung
but the soul was lost
it didn’t even jump, it was the spirit of frost…
the knight left the castle
and the spirit
is still told to be near.,
the spirit is here
today
learning the ways of the modern world
but as time ages
the spirit fades
his soul becomes more and more lost
his dark shadow fades
and he becomes tired
he knows the answers
he’s been here all along
but the more our world fights
the more he fades
all he has
are his old ways
the way we find the answers
is if everyone fights together
when that knight ran 1000 years ago
he ran from the answers and the spirits below
The answers were in that castle long ago
people came around to see the spirits show,
he sang and wept and spoke aloud
“Everyone has a place”
“You just need to make yours”
The spirits are all around with answers and sounds
some are the wind, and when you hear it howl
they are speaking and screaming
even though it might sound calm or creepy
the wind has the answers to our worlds legacy.
When you hear a fire roar and light with woosh
Spirit burny has awakened
you’ve started his journey
He crackles and roars
rages out loud
these are the answers
flying around
each ember
is a world that someone created
each ember is an answer
as the fire dies out
it fills with answers
answers to our worlds legacy.
When you hear the spit of water from your sinks spout
thats spirit Liqo coming out she makes herself known everyday
billions of people use her day by day
when her rush is heard her answers are spouted
she has the least
she has shared the most
she has made a legacy.
The knight from 1000 years ago
lost frost in the warm spring glow
ever winter
when the cold snow falls
hes there
at the beginning of spring when the frost builds on the grass
hes there
When the cold creeps into the night
he’s there
when you get a frosty chill down your spine
frost is there…

Tuesday, January 17th
I was worried about what to make for lunch.
She’s a picky eater and I can’t buy groceries until Friday. It’s only Tuesday.
(They were worried you weren’t getting enough oxygen)
I went to work, feeling a restlessness.
(You went to sleep. Did you feel scared?)
I was home by four pm.
I started homework and thought about dinner.
(You slipped into a coma. What did you think about before that?)
I went to bed that evening, you were in the back of my mind.
(Rich was there. Your family was there. You were already gone.)

Wednesday, January 18th
It’s quiet today. There’s a melancholy peace. Tomorrow, the 19th, is my parents’ anniversary. And I am
thinking of you.
I felt it before I knew for sure. I felt you were gone. I felt scared and panicked at what was to come.
(January 18th you took your last breath. They “pulled the plug.”)
The world lost a humble and loving and caring man, a veteran, a coworker, brother, friend.
But it still kept spinning. How could it? How dare it.
I hold on to the truth that heaven rejoiced and you were healed and whole and happy.
(Garret, Garret, Garret… can you hear me say your name?)

Thursday, January 19th
“Hi, can you give me a call?” was Rich’s message.
“Is it Garret?” I asked, but I knew.
(“It’s not good news” he said. It was not good news.)
I didn’t call him.
I couldn’t.

Friday, January 20th
“Call me this morning.” It was a Friday morning.
I called him. And I listened to everything that happened to you since the previous August. And I cried.
Then I hung up and I sobbed.
(You were being fitted for your wings, asking question after question about life, I am sure.)

Saturday, January 21st
I brought my daughter to TJ Maxx. It was morning. I walked around, trying to be ok but I wasn’t ok.
The tears came back in the Kitchen section and they didn’t stop until later that night and that’s because I
fell asleep. They came back when I woke up and stayed for five days.
(Garret, Garret, Garret. Did you hear me whisper your name? Do you see me mourn?)
I didn’t go to your funeral. I couldn’t.
Rich said it was a beautiful service. You deserved a beautiful service.
(You were there. They saw you, he said.)

Wednesday, January 17th
One year later.
I still feel the punch in my gut. I still feel the lump in my throat.
I still say your name three times whenever I think of you. And I think of you all throughout the week.
I will think about you forever, while still worrying about what to pack for lunch and what to make for
dinner, while the world still carries on without you as it should.
How dare it

Fog, but light.

These canyons,
his voice beside.

Rain; mirrors.

I fail to walk
and not see his face.

The loss of life.

Roads sparkle dawn,

but his voice is here.

(a weird sort of
resonance)

Through canyons
and canyons.

A clotted sky.

The air is dull, stagnant and stale, infertile and barren…like an empty page,
Filled with grey, black and white, added to a drab, simple shade of beige,
Silent and still, without dazzle or sparkle, shimmer or shine,
Absent of pastry or cream, pizza or coffee or juniper or pine.

The feeling is sullen and scared, lost without found…somewhat sad,
Built over time, lasting forever as if molecularly clad,
The absence of fragrance, like a game without a score, deeper than an empty soul,
It’s not a matter of wealth, luxury or poor, it draws all within like some far away black hole.

As if caught on a breeze, a waft in the air…something aloft, something, just more,
You are instantly awash in it’s draw, gasping for more, you needly implore,
The scent catches you in awe with its sudden approach,
Drawing ever nearer it begins to enthrall one and all with a relentless encroach.

What is it, this unique fragrance that before was never anywhere near,
Maybe it made olfactory entry as an invasive, and welcome, thought so, so clear,
Its as if, its encroach was not as a sense, not a taste nor a smell,
Could it be a potion or spell that suddenly under, you befell.

As the scent becomes strong, and eyes turn to gaze,
You see around her, a special kind of glow, yet far from being a cloud or some haze,
The reason becomes known and quite abundantly clear,
She is authentic and pure, always completely, instinctively sincere.

She carries herself with power, inside and around, setting her free, satisfyingly free,
The scent you smell could never have come from any blossom, spice, fruit or tree,
Intuitive yes, incomparable too, she is indeed the reason for this redolent aroma,
It’s far from man’s creation, manufacture nor an essence from any fauna or flora.

Once she’s near, the origin is clear, its completely, intrinsically her,
Beautiful never had a better expression through declaration, siren, or stir,
The fragrance is more, so very much more,
Made of elegance, allure, with attitude and strength, upon wings that allow her to soar.

It’s her…yes, her…all that she is, all that she was, all she will forever be,
Never duplicated, always regenerative, all that you feel and all that you see,
Completely congenital, adoptive and consanguineous, natural and innate,
It came at a price…the great price of sadness and joy, of loss and love, only she could translate.

Feel her, see her…touch her, a total of every sense, take her in,
It’s extra…above…icing on top, as well as deep from within,
Beyond all feelings, all senses, including a magical sixth, a complete and total ensoul,
In truth, despite old theory, the sum of all parts is far greater than the whole.

There is no safe word
the pull of his face as he stares deep into its depths
He can’t tear himself away
consumed by an all-encompassing lure

the fish flash their tails, wondering who is this man?
billions of dollars have fallen into his trap,
this trap to snatch the attention away at a moment’s glance
like super-glue adhesive, his face appears bigger, closer, nearer

in the mirror, it says that things appear closer than they appear
and for him, this is true as well

he tries to recall wether or not if he can swim?
He’s not positive exactly if he can, but he may as well lie

The valley’s and dips float past the stream, and he reaches his fingers out

He feels the coolness of the water’s surface,
wondering if it were some sort of trick

He had never heared of water before —
His tongue is dry, and he longs for his throat to be quenched
he wonders what it might taste like, he’s forgotten the smell
Taking off the mask that he always wears on his face,
he sniffs at his wet fingers

Disappointed, he leans closer, studying the way his jawline fixes
his eyes glowing with the curiousity of knowledge. He knows now
that he has a beautiful face.

He touches his lips, the fullness of the bottom, and the curve of
cupid’s bow, two small points like a cat,
Kiss me, his lips seem to say, as they move in the reflection

He sees her appear, the woman of his lusts and dreams
standing right behind him
but he’s no long able to tell wether or not she were a figment of his imagination
she talks to him and he doesn’t answer

she crosses her arms since it’s evident that he is blind and deaf to the
all of reality, time and space

she flexes her arms, as he begins to drown, trying with all her might to pull him away
but he won’t fight for his life,
water won’t splash as he chokes,

he thinks this is air, and she screams for help

her face is ghostly, as he stares up at her now
a woman in a flowing white dress, her attention on something away
He doesn’t see that she is beautiful, but he wonders if she might be

as he becomes one with the water, consumed by a tasteless,
odorous liquid

he feels, for once, like he were no longer lonely

A flower appears at the feet of the girl,
she falls to her knees to look at it properly

Narcissus, she whispers.

The man who knew how to love himself

I held you like a pebble
but you were a boulder on my chest
I have found a safer way to
seduce the cold
than by burying my breath
beneath your weight
I have tip toed in the fairest parts
of your rigid soul
and I have found that we are
synonymous with
trickling drops of weighted rain
waiting for some great hand to wipe us away
if you are happier with speckled features
then hold me to all accounts
for my foreboding tongue
has a way of twisting knots
out of fragile situations
and my fabled feet
have made a living
at evading
I once saw us in starlight
and now on brighter nights
I trace a skyline
sewn together by empty verse
and I can almost taste
the breath
that I had captured with the cold
I can almost feel a pebble
where stone met flesh and bone

Why does he close the door to say goodbye to me.
What doesn’t he want our friends to see?
I imagine that his roommate—my friend—
is peering through the peephole
and I imagine there are people
walking down this hall
I imagine what they’d think
of the embrace he’s giving me.
But nobody’s there to confirm what I see.
And later, when I have my suitcase and we’re
pausing by the staircase, wordless, my ride waiting in the garage—
I drop my disguise and grab him again
I hear him drop my duffel and feel both his arms
wrap around me.
Any question of love automatically answered
by the pressure on my ribs.
I know it’s not possible. I move to let go but he pulls me back into him
briefly, takes the
air out of my lungs with the force of it.
My chin brushes his hair when he lets go.
Anything but a kiss, I know.