Reminder

And yet soon was two months ago
Or thereabout

And hearing your voice on the phone tonight
Made me remember
Remember to think, remember to write
Remember
And on and on I read, kept reading; until-
Until I remembered
Once again, and picked up my keyboard quill
To type.
But wait - I can't remember - or somehow
The words...
They're just gone, their beauty faded now
Where'd they go?

And I am left here staring and hoping
And dreaming.

Ocean Day Dreaming

Top hat, coat tails
Crisp cuffs-
Details
The music swells
And hearts
As well
The orchestra
Tunes up.

She smiles at him
The lights
Go dim
He takes her hand
For ovations
Stand
Ah someday,
Someday!

hmmmm

Prosetry...

the word just presented itself to me at the end of a short thread of thought (if one can call the disjointed bits and peices that run through my head a thread... but certainly thought)...

i like it. prosetry.

(prōsětrē)

And Then?

So, ok.. listen:
I'm not stupid, you know
But sometimes I wonder
Especially when I feel so.
Stubborn? yeah that's me
But what did you expect?
I'll pretend i don't care
And stifle weak regret.
A smile - a laugh
Yeah, so what?
Sometimes
You feel like a nut
Sometimes you don't
Know what I'm saying?
The disappointment inside
Won't keep me from playing.
So anywho... that's
That for tonight.
Maybe more later
Till I get it right.

cloudy eyes and sailing thoughts

Again on watch, as my poetry goes
It seems like my only inspiration these days.
The olympiad sounds from the screen behind
But it's near three am so it's all replays.
If you'll wait a moment, I'll make a note
In the duty log, zero three hundred -- secure
Four and a half hours left, thank god!
Then out of this uniform and in bed for sure.
I'm distracted you know, so much going on
In my head: a constant tornado of sorts;
And I'm exhausted, can't wait for my thoughts
-Dissapointed ships- to secure in their ports.
So, driving home, soon - not soon enough
I'll breathe "Deo Gratias" at the thought of my bed
I so welcome sleep, which keeps me from thinking
And for a moment erases the things that were said.

a Passing Thought.

Why is it that boredom
Is the push that I need
To write anything of substance?

Or rather that tired
Sensation of thought
To stir up creative silt...

Like to sit at the edge
Of the pier, sun-tired
And notice an elusive flash

That jostles the brain
Imagination bulldozer
For an innovative foxhole

well...

Standing Watch

I thought about writing tonight,
But haven't got the heart
Waiting on the pale sunlight
Another day to start.

Fighting sleep and dreams
I'll write anyway
My brain with nothing teems
Tired fingers delay.

Forgive these sleepy lines
Better some than none
More in daylight times
For now I'm done.