Fading Key

I'm dancing around
the door to freedom
with fear as my partner -
steadfast, and oh-so-true.
But I think the song is ending,
and I think the key is fading.
So I dance faster, step harder.
and hum the unsung question:
"Are you going to let go?"

Soul Uncertain

There is a vacancy here
Inside this space
Once saved for a certain soul.
Now dusty and distant
From what used to be
The soul was not certain at all.

So now, lost, it wanders -
Remembering its place, forsook.
Where is the I
When the soul has gone?
What meaning has "my"
When the I is lost?
 - Nowhere and None.

Coming Without You

(Old Poem, written 4 Aug 02. Posting here to show someone per request)

I cried last night
After coming
With that man on top of me
And I continued still, to cry
After he got off
I did not know why
Until just now
As I, touching myself,
Trying to come again
Realized
I am desperately trying to feel
You broke my heart
Into a million pieces
And like the first time
This happened
I want you, again, to mend it
To feel again with you
Beneath me or atop
But mostly just beside
That is why I cried

NaPoWriMo!!!

It's National Poetry Writing Month!!

The challenge is a poem a day.
I just heard of this wonderful thing on the 1st, already in the evening...so I got a late start.  Here's my one from yesterday.  I'm aware that is quite crap...but I'm on a deadline, people! ;)

We close our eyes,
but why?
(If seeing is
the knowing.)
Don't we want to know?
Ah....no.
Because from knowing
we can never go back.
And if we want one thing, it's that:
To always
be able
to go back.

If we open our eyes to see
the beauty that can be,
deep within our souls
a terrible bell does toll.
Like hope on the lip
and the symmetrical sword -
to see is to know,
to know is to need,
or else forsake salvation.

Why can't Jack ever be a master?
Because he holds too tight
to all the "what-ifs."

Writing leads to thinking
Thinking leads to feeling,
to seeing,
to knowing;
to turning over rocks,
or ripping off of barks,
and scattering from sanctuary
all the roly-poly fears.

Nobody asked why
and I never said goodbye,
but that hasn't changed a thing.
Somethings just are, regardless.
Is that fate?
It is...
what it is...
Right. But is IT fate?

The redundancy annihilates my patience.
Ah...and forces me
to be.
What?   To see.
How?
To be me.
To see how,
clearly.
Let
    it
      all
          Go.

Poem from a few months ago-not finished

My heart is broken
facing the unrelenting permanence
of real -
the real that keeps us apart.
And I linger in the sorrow
for want of any idea
of what else to do
The other real, will also not retreat
I prefer the latter to look upon

Real of my soul
and the radiance that grows
when you and i reach out
and find one another

to want and want what cannot be