Posts Tagged ‘HUman’

I would not choose to be a fish,

always staring with jelly-globe eyes.

True, glittering scales are one consolation,

but always the threat of being eaten,

and always (excuse my vanity) that stupid, gaping mouth.

I would not choose to be a frog,

gulping air by the barrel-full each day,

and always the threat–

if I keep my current sense of direction– of

dessication, because I leaped

far away from a blue crystal pond,

and ended up far from any body of water.

I would not choose to be a bird,

for if the human sense remains,

I would never soar too far off the ground, and

would wind up tangled in a telephone wire,

because I have to wonder if both my and a bird’s attention

spans are about the same short length…

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Yellow light has become our new carpet.

Light, like grief, reveals

us. And the lilacs gather bees

as my friends gather affection.

Light is my sour token.

Wind is the other.

 

Here is this summer light, but

people would rather wait

for news of stabbings, shootings, and massacres-

though, being human, won’t admit it-

and choose shadow.

But this is ordinary.

Even ornithologists do not fully understand

the language of birds.

Status of Humanity

be diminished by

Past questioned, Look, Voice-

and- Expression- thereby-

For- in Our minds-

We try to measure- Eternity.

This is one Fault of being Human-

the Impossible, We’ll try.

No less an organ

than the cardiac muscle

and sinew

of a regular human heart.

This heart dreamt.

It dreamt of love

in two hands, clasped;

in four eyes, twinkling;

in lips and words, whispered

and shouted,

and gestures and laughter

and memories

that have yet to be made.

Some of these dreams

turned into wishes,

and the wishes became so strong

they turned into prayers-

much like a chick

turns into a fledgling,

than spreads its wings

and flies.

The heart was shattered

by promises

that held as much weight

as stardust,

sweet words

that disguised the taste of cyanide,

and its own dreams

which it believed too much in

and had its natural rhythm disrupted by.

The shattered fragments

of the glass heart

belong to me.

They dig into my ribs

and say don’t believe

too strong

in dreams.

Love, friends, is

the real double-edged sword.

 

Human love can be absent

on one heart’s part

and thus be sweeter than a lie,

poisoning the other person.

 

Love is what can split a man

in two.

Love is what can cut a man deeply-

losing love, that is.

As humans

we look for love

in the in-sync beating of two hearts.

Which is why we are fools

who destroy

love.

 

But love

can be taken

and melted down

into plows,

and till the fields

so that buds may push

through and taste the air,

and blossom into strong stalks

and stand against wind and rain and storms.

Love is always there.

Even if the stalk is knocked down,

some seeds were shaken loose

and stuck in the fertile ground.

There they take root.

 

Love, dear friends,

is never a lost cause.

Words are

sometimes

the hardest things to find,

even for writers.

While writers have plenty of time

to search for a word

when seated at their desks,

in bullet-paced conversation

they have little

time to plumb the depths

of memorized vocabulary,

and they stumble

as all humans do.