I have seen the bliss
before the morning's dawn .
I have taken kiss from a woman
as she slept like a new born fawn .
I have seen the sun and moon set
together in a western sky .
I have seen all the reasons now
as we let our loving die .

I have seen the fog at times when
there was nothing one could see .
I have seen eternity from the mountains
all the way down to the sea .
I have seen love's kind embrace and
felt it's breath upon my skin .
But I don't even dare to dream
there will be another like you again .

Oh , I have seen paradise through
The yellow of the glass .
Tasted it upon my tongue
And it was so very nice .
I have smelled the rose's fumes
And it permanates the air
For evermore I assumed
But now face cold realities stare

I have seen the petals fall
one by one by one
I have seen the fingers slip away
until there were none .
I have this empty feeling
at the bottom of my pit
God it is so unwilling
I think I'm feeling sick

Our love has evaporated
After summer's rain  
Leaving steaming memories
Heat and searing pain
But I have not seen
Nor think I ever will
See a love again like this
Forever that's so real

Why Men Cry in the Bathroom

For so many reasons.
I will tell you the why.
I think you know,
Or perhaps, you think you know.

Men are always O.K.,
Even when not.

We expect the worse,
Accept the worse,
Nonetheless,
We are forever unprepared.

Wearily, we cry,
In the bathroom, in private,
Lest sighs slip by,
We be unmasked,
Early warring, strife signs warning.

Copious, tho we weep
Before the mirror confessor,
It is relief untethered,
Unbinding of the feet,
An uncounting
Of beaded rosaries,
Of freshly fallen hail stones,
Of night times terrors
By dawn's early edition's light,
and welcomed.

But look for the mute tear,
The eye-cornered drop,
*** tat, that never drops,
But never ceases formation and
Reforming, over and over again,
In a state of perpetuity of reconstitution,

The tippy tear of an iceberg revealing,
And I see you peeping, wondering,
What is beneath

Look for:
the torn worm-eaten edges of spirit,
thrift shop bought, extra worn,
grieving lines neath the eyes,
where the salt has evaporated,
discolored the skin.
worry lines,
under and above,
browed mapped, furrowed boundaries.
the laugh line saga,
where better days are stored,
recalled, as well as recanted,
publicly, privately.

Why just men?

I don't know,
Perhaps,
it is all I know.


Jan 6, 2013

The moon hums in a new style
Ah, pretty little beauty spot, opens a slice of sky
On the door of tomorrow in the serene shadow of night
Keeping the ears down, alleyways of stars lie down.
The sea too rolls out high waves of rhymes
Only then will the veiled mystic night  
Opens once a kohl-dark, enigmatic eye
On the door of tomorrow deep down the night.

It may look like I'm silent
But don't let it fool you
I'm holding back the will
To say that I love you

ITS OWN GOOD SELF

no God just
the sweet rain blesses me
with its own good self

a robin
unaware
that he's my prayer

the miracle of sunlight
playing
with a kitten

wind sings
in a choir
of trees

I tried for days
To write a poem
That captures all
The joys that
We have known
And all the problems
We have solved.

I  made a list
Of all the times
Our tie was
Stretched near breaking,
And I marveled
At the unseen strength
That pulled us
Back together.

The years have not
Been kind to me
But you have been
Forbearing -
Always there
To lift me up
And keep us
Moving forward.

So as we start
Another year
We’ll face it all
Together.
In a bond unshakeable
That binds our love
Forever.
ljm

Like an old fashioned clock
That has been wound too tightly
And too many times
I don’t always get it right.
A few minutes fast
A few seconds slow
But the sun always sets
When it’s supposed to.
ljm