turning rhymes into prose

turning rhymes into prose,
old thoughts and dreams
deconstructed and rebuilt,
to please the only ear that
can stand to hear them
after all this time alone
 
untangling stanzas and
couplets while rearranging
shelves full of notebooks,
elbow deep in words about
love and lust and betrayal,
epiphanies wink out when
compared with the truth
 
roping it all in with a lasso
made of twine, there is no
way to corral the hopes
in this pen, galloping off
with ideas that were not
quite concrete, leaving behind
hand prints that set too fast
 
longing to get feelings into
a form that means something
to someone in some part
of the world, traveling the thin
line between appreciation and
disparagement, flicking the pages
over the horizon, blurring with
the lines in the ledger
 
stars on the water show
the way home, darkness
slides slowly across the tablet,
leaving creation to touch and feel,
concepts bloom, pushing
perceptions through the
barrier between thought and
truth
 
glb /// “turning rhymes into prose”

alluding with alliteration

my spine is like jelly
my head on a spring
my feet stuck in concrete
something has clipped
my wings of creativity
doing their best to keep
me grounded, i should
be soaring and swooping
and diving and playing
with words, dancing
with phrases, alluding
with alliteration, but
the bucket is empty,
there’s nothing left
in the till, i don’t
seem to come up with
anything even by
sheer determination
and will, so i’ll hang
up my pencil, set
aside my quill and try
to rhyme for someone
else…
 
glb /// “alluding with alliteration”

i can’t paint

i can’t paint,
but the colors
that come to mind
when i think of you…

are bold and bright,
don’t run from anything,
don’t blanch for anyone,
soar on your standard,
representing your soul,
full of love,
full of life,
full of dreams fulfilled

by sparks of laughter and joy
on an ocean of brilliant stars

bringing happiness to my heart
every time i unveil you
on a canvas
painted with my words

glb /// “i can’t paint”
originally published 11/03/2018

it happened

it has to have happened
one time
someone believed
the story i was telling
someone picked me up
looked into my eyes
and saw that
i was still there

it has to have happened
one time
someone saw past
the gibberish
i was speaking
to an empty chair
and put their arms
around me
so i wouldn’t have to
go through it alone

it has to have happened
one time
i sat and stared
out the window
trying to convince myself
that i had
a place in this world
and someone
encouraged me
to take inventory
of my life
to look at everything
that is inside
to be proud
of who i am

it has to have happened
one time
you took a chance
on loving me
wholly
giving me
a place to rest
something to count on
the ability
to be free

it has happened
over and over again
i fall asleep
and wake up
knowing that
you are with me
holding my hand
a kiss on my cheek
smiling with me
feeling more love
than ever before

glb /// “it happened”
originally published 09/13/2017

words

you know how I love words
how I love to pick them up,
look them in the syllables
and scrunch them in between
two others to create a crazy
collection of amaziing alliteration.
but there is more to it than that.
I want to accumulate the perfect
gathering of lines and stanzas and
couplets so I could create the
ultimate poem for you. if I could
do that every day, for as many
days I have left, I would always
have a smile on my face and I
would be content to pass on
like that.

glb /// “words”
originally published 08/28/2018

traces of life

words spill from my brain,
scorch paper,
leave immortal marks,
anger, love, frustration, loss
ashen traces of life
i struggle to recall

pain pulls up to the table
clinking knife to glass,
demanding some wine
to acccompany this horror show
immune to cries
from shattered lives
left in its wake

i am never going to be
what i set out to,
corners turned,
alleys dark,
bring new
colors i have not
dreamed before

i pull pen from paper
reseat my mind,
and eye,
refocus energy
on well worn territory

alternate paths
to subjects hard to reach,
becoming my own
crier,
echoing similar refrains
through the caverns
of my imagination
repeated so many times
it is hard to prove
their veracity
only knowing that
if uttered enough times
they have to be

glb /// “traces of life”
originally published 10/11/2017

69 times

i feel it tighter
the flow moving slower
i anticipate
the flow stopping

nothing passes
all is possible
one encompasses
serenity

i have always been here
it feels so new
since the first time
i hold it to my chest

omniscient waves break
over the bow
everything for all
who feel the spray

gather round and listen
to the voice of wisdom
to the voice of treachery
to the voice of reason
they are all the same color
they are all the same
they are tighter
they are flowing slower
the flow
stops

glb /// “69 times”
originally published 02/20/2018