London Poem: Day 303

16 June

We suffer to forget
Because the pain that gives
Reason to suffer pauses life,
To focus only on what man
Has created.
Stuck between two poles:
A pain on either side,
With a sweet sigh being
All there is to give.
Swim with me, move between
The two so the action will be the
Only thing remembered –
Because in the end,
All things must come to an end.

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London Poem: Day 302

15 June

Forget the arrows,
We’re still in mourning.
Lingering further, and
Sinking nearer, I listen
For the cupping clink
To echo into the night.
There will come a time surely,
When you can wait by waiting’s
Word no more.
But, for hope’s sake I pray
That is a long way off, because
Even in death love is a living thing,
To out live even our memories.

London Poem: Day 301

14 June

One day gone,
The sounds are softer
And break apart, cracking
Like tiny slivers of ice
Under foot, but I still hear them.
I hear the long, sonorous cry
From months past; I can hear the moan
For love in what appears to be my ears,
But as just in memory.
Sound or dream, I hear it,
Making it no less real, and the
Longing for one last look
No less painful.
In recollection, steps not taken
Stand bright against the love
I wish I could give now.

London Poem: Day 300

13 June

The poor machine sleeps now,
Turning softer, gentler eyes
Upon the forgotten world.
A hushed sleep dreams no more,
But our dreams grow full with
The whispered sounds of your life –
What lives in dreams lacks the
Parts to grow into life, and back.
So, we let it rest for good,
To live in dreams, and wait
For the day to hear you breathe again.

London Poem: Day 299

12 June

Anti-climatic and still hungry,
What is supposed to be never
Satisfies, and never lines up.
Tick, tick.
The ongoing tumble leading to,
Well, know one really knows, but
We still quietly clamor for
Something that doesn’t not, and
Will never exist.
All we can do is wait,
With thumbs twiddling.

London Poem: Day 298

11 June

The glass glistens as we
Peer through, providing our
Eyes with the knowledge that
What lays between you and I
Is separated by a thin,
Transparent line.
It’s difficult to see, absolutely,
But, to live with that between,
We go without influence so that when
The line breaks, we will be
Who we are without the other,
Dictating the end.

London Poem: Day 297

June 10

It’s difficult to find love
In the newest drama.
The blank curl of your lips
Tells more than the eyes,
But, my heart is lonely and
Needs more than to give –
Please allow it to receive.
To speak singles out the hearts
Vulnerability, so I won’t bother
With the risk because all words
Do is turn and face me, to give
And to give some more.