One of these days, when the sun
comes down as the children
play, I will have nothing to say.
I will just sit there and smile
knowing that life was worth while.
One of these days, life will have
showed me all that I needed to
see. I will have learned lessons
that are taught by time. Experiences
of mine will seem divine. Old
thoughts and feelings become
less appealing. One of these days,
I will love to the point of happiness.
I will give gratitude and hate less.
One of these days, I will feel alive
before I look death in the eyes.
One of these days, my dreams will
come true before my nightmares do.
A Poet’s dream is to be heard
and not seen. A Poet’s dream
is to create, to wait, and to
discover one’s own fate.
A Poet’s dream manifests itself
in words, sounds, and mounds
of half-written ideas found
under the surface: underground.
A Poet dreams a dream brighter
than the sunlight and better than
a good night under the stars’
inviting sight. A Poet’s dream
is to change the world –
to rearrange things to release
one’s hidden pain. Just like
ghosts, Poets do not show them-
selves, but they do know them-
selves. A Poet’s dream
is to live a life that can manifest
itself before and during the night.
I haven’t seen you in years.
I forget what you look like.
You are quick to avoid mirrors
because beauty is out of sight.
I push through looking for you.
I try to find what’s out of sight.
I try to turn black skies to blue:
to let you know I am alright.
I search for what we once had;
I do my best to not be sad.
I know that you left before dawn,
right in the middle of our song.
After all these years, I remain
searching for love that heals pain.
You have been out of my sight,
but I know that I will be alright.
After many tries, I looked within –
to places that I have never been.
I found the ghosts of us smiling,
within myself, in a place of hiding.