I Love You, Big Jim

Away he goes, right on back to the mines

And she, with unborn child sits, just waiting.

Soft voices quietly revealed the signs,

Her head spinning, her conscious debating.

She won’t touch her breakfast of eggs and toast,

And the table has never seemed so long.

His seat, far away, holds the marriage ghost,

And now believing she did something wrong.

All that is left to do is to just forget,

Forget the words that were softly spoken,

Forget the mistress who she never met,

The unborn kin will not see the broken.

And so she does nothing but wait on him,

Rehearsing her lines, “I love you, big Jim.”

Tragedy

Empty. Just empty.

Love me, I’m tragic.

Hold me, I’m fragile.

What is there to hold onto anymore?

My inner desires are buried deep in a mass of weeds and dandelions.

What I’ve always known is right along with them, intertwined with the roots.

I’m searching, searching for something that I cannot find.

I’ve searched under the sea, across the plains, through time and I cannot find it.

It’s lost in the darkness of my bedroom before I close my eyes.

Like an atom it appears in front of me and in a mili-second is gone.

It wont let me have a flicker of feeling. It took away all feeling from my bones.

I shiver because its so cold inside of this body that lay alone, with nothing to hold onto. When I leave, what will become of this place? Will it rot to the ground? Will it fall apart? Will it build itself up to be the most beautiful?

Get me out.

I am empty. I am searching.

Three Short Words

A dozen budding red roses sit

In a transparent glass vase,

Comfortably on a fireplace mantle.

His deep blue eyes catch hers,

And his knees turn weak,

And she draws in a heavy breath,

Quiet and rigid.

He whispers three short words,

His lips like a quivering bow.

His voice is just loud enough

To be heard.

I love you.

The dozen roses come full bloom

One by one.

She stares at

all she’s ever wanted

and uncovers

Her pearly white teeth

stained with coffee.

She nods in silent agreement,

His shoulders drop

And he throws his head back with laughter.

The dozen red roses will wither in time,

One by one,

Comfortably on a fireplace mantle.

Seen

A place where quiet seems

Overwhelmed by a buzzing radiator,

Two tall boys sit with ease at two blue chairs

That are in an array of what was once a circle of five.

Their gaze is glued on conversations

On a flat, black screen.

A vast blue sky and a bright orange sun hover,

Over the painted stark-white ceiling,

unseen.

This is a place where quiet seems

Overwhelmed by a buzzing radiator.

The Beautiful Ballerina

Fragile hands reach to the music box.
Multiple eyes of bewilderment are drawn to a ballerina.
The tiny, plastic figurine spins slowly
In rhythm with a quick piano interlude.
The little eyes are mesmerized.
Come time, the ballerina is ready,
Ready to be held,
Ready to be discovered,
But the fragile hands won't touch the ballerina,
No, the ballerina is too beautiful to be touched.
Too beautiful to be dancing too long.
Too beautiful to be discovered,
For if discovered, the ballerina might not be beautiful anymore.
They might find her to be just plastic and paint-
Machines and mold.
But for now she is beautiful enough to be gawked at.
Beautiful enough to be shown.
The fragile hands pull away from the music box,
She is too beautiful to be loved.
The ballerina stops her twirls.
Away she goes to darkness.
The little eyes go away, because she is only but a show,
locked in the music box.

Take Me To Eternity

Take me to eternity.

Chill my bones and create me, free.

Take me to eternity.

Carry me above the horizon,

across the rippling sea.

Take me to eternity.

Cross my path with the unknown,

show me the beauty.

Take me to eternity.

Saddle me with wings-

-and fly me higher than man has seen.

Take me to eternity.

Gently hand me a face to rely on,

now and forever.

Take me to eternity.

A Minute of Your Time,

Colossians 3:23

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men.