I look up and breathe.
Both my eyes close
as I exhale. I see you
take a breath after
I take mine. The air
between us thickens.
The energy flowing
means that tension
is growing. The air
between you and I
forms an invisible
wall – one too small
to see through. The air
between us dances
back and forth.
Recycled over again,
the air between us
is more than a gust.
The air between us
knocks off the rust.
It shakes off the dust.
I look up and breathe.
I smile and take in
the air that we share.
Haunted by voices, the only child sees
shadows pass by. When he closes
his eyes, he can still see the demons
haunting him. Noise fills the still air.
Haunted by those who won’t leave,
he stays up all night. One night,
the only child hears his name being called.
Afraid and awake, he walks toward
the voice calling his name. He gets
close enough to see a ballpoint pen
lodged between a blank journal.
The only child picks up the pen, filling
up the blank pages. He writes, “I’m not
real” over and over. The voices stop,
and the shadows disappear. The only
child closes the journal, then the curtains
are thrown open. The shining light
illuminates his transparent face.
The light shines right through.
Surrounded by life, the only child sees
his future then jumps into the past. It felt
so real for him. He almost forgot, he was
a lurking shadow, once alive and well.
The only child visits the blank journal
now and again to encounter memories
once made, remembered, and forgot.
This is where I be.
This is where I’m free:
away from people
and near the sea.
I float away. I cut
all burning ropes.
This is where I be:
caught in-between
being alone
and feeling free.
Like the ocean
breeze, I create
a flow I know,
and I just go.
This is where I be.
This is where I feel
myself. I am me:
just where I need
to be – living
next to the trees.
The consensus is I must mention
the five senses. Our eyes help us see
different human beings. It can be
a sight to behold when people fold.
Smells expose our noses; we know
what is rotten based on the smell.
We can tell when people go bad, too.
We can have a taste of the good life
if we work day and night. We must
touch the hearts of those who are
feeling down. We must feel for all
things under the sun and those
under the gun. Most importantly,
we have to look out and see life
for what it is and is not. Think
about the energy you put out
into the world and ask yourself
if you are truly being yourself.
We must wake up and smell
the roses on a constant basis.
Feel the love – ask for help.
Take the time to see yourself
shine and remember to breathe;
we cannot forget to breathe.
Take me home: the place I love.
Let the positive vibrations take
me away. Let the rhythm solve
my problems. Take me into
your place of refuge. Take me
to a distant place: a foreign land.
If you can, take me by the hand.
Take me, and teach me about
life, love, forgiveness, and truth.
Reggae, stay; continue to play.
Take me closer to myself –
I could use your guidance.
The waves of sound wash
away the worry: no hurry.
I can breathe and clearly see
the place you wish to take me.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 