Loving in silence;
much like solace and despair
vying for power.
Misery and ecstasy;
clashing in between heartbeats.

Last night you told me you don't love me anymore
You said you are now into bad girls in leather jackets
Wearing cigarette smoke like perfume
And I stuttered. But stopped.
I wanted to cry but I didn't.
Considered being what you want but
Instead, I showed you a wicked smile while
Thinking of running away to the big city


This morning your words taste like freedom.
And I stay just where I'm at.
Instead, you move to the moon
And I am stargazing on picnic blankets

My dear friend, to whom I can only wish life,
I take this moment to write these last words—
words I could only think to send to you.
You, whom I have lost forever,
and who, for all your sense, could not find
the right path,
the righteous path.
(You did not follow my path).

No—
I am not one who can determine
right and wrong;
for every drop of insight in your glass
is one emptied from my own.
But I can say I do not understand
what brought you to this field,
what stole you
from my grasp,
what led you
to the wolves.

As I sit here in my bed of sorrows
and relive my life’s distress and delight,
and the wind rustles
through the leaves of the trees—
and my peers surround me,
whispering the end of days—
I ponder the failings
I never took the chance to weigh.

And you have not left my mind
for a moment
in our decaying world.
(You could not leave my mind,
for where would you go?)

Oh, my friend,
there is not a moment
I do not wish for something to
bring you back to me
so to return you to my side,
to a place where you
are safe.  

But who am I to control your fate?
I am not your keeper—
if only.
You chose your fate and I chose mine,
and those decisions saw us to our place,
here on life’s arena.

It is all I can do to hope and pray
for one as
bright as you shine
to hold on to your place in this world.
I beg you to see this through to the end,
and mourn me,
For I would lay down my own life,
Be it that you could live.

Mike Hauser had a brilliant idea to “Pass the pen” and see where it got us.  This, Friends, is the result.

I write of the stars
I write of the moon
I write of the things
That I love to do
I write of the lies
While telling the truth
And when I am through
I pass the pen to you

I read the things
that went before
and add my thoughts
for you to write more
of things we love
and things we hate
so here's the pen,
now contemplate!

I wait like a kid
the anticipation
breaks my quiet
like a train in station
with thoughts
pouring out
like the traveling weary
so here's the pen
"now what's my hurry?"

While looking at this
And studying that
As our poetic peruse
Comes up to bat
With much more in store
From the writer's’ knack
I jot down my last line
Then pass the pen back

and now it get's fun
with my lines and yours
at least it keeps me
from doing my chores!
fingers be nimble
brain be quick
I finished this part
now here's the Bic.

With words tattered and torn
I have you here to mend
Don’t know where I’m going
Brain lights on dim
With little or no warning
Here it comes again
All on a whim
I hand you the pen

*so who will care
if we make no sense
“these poets here
must have the bends!”
but all the same
we’ve had our yen
it was a good run
let's retire the pen

One step behind the other,
I keep my eyes ahead.
I'll keep myself together
If I watch where I have tread.

I'm sure I'm being hunted
By monsters in the night.
Not sure if I've been stunted,
Or if this is their true height.

But if the shadows wavered,
Or gave way to my stare,
I'd sing instead of quaver
And stand with shoulders square.

No time to sit and panic
Or just wait for the dawn.
Until I leave the manic,
I must keep trudging on.

Wait until I'm with you,
And then I might break down.
Take comfort when it's through,
When at last pain makes a sound.

Just save me a seat in the closet
I'm fighting my fears now:
Fear was the one to cause it,
But I will answer how.

He was so stubborn like the thorns of the cactus.
She was stubborn too,
To soften his thorns.