A Poem a Day

Keeps the heartache at bay

Tag: Art

  • What is Comfort to an Anxious Mind?

    Free of pain, the easing of grief, the alleviation of distress. 

    I yearn for the comfort I once knew. 

    The tilt of a smile, the tickle of a laugh, the thunder of peace as it washes over you.

    There was a time that comfort was so much more than 

    a rainstorm, the sand between your toes, roaming clouds in a starry night sky.

    Has it always been measured in moments? Sporadic continuous efforts to 

    Hold on to a peace that is fleeting, and yet can alter time to stretch 

    a second into a minute,

    a minute into an hour,

    an hour into a day,

    a day into a lifetime. 

    What would a lifetime of comfort be like? Would grief bow to it?

    Instead of pain, would the thought of a lost loved one bring me serenity?

    Would the thought of their absence in this realm console me?

    Would my days be filled with warm teacups overflowing with coffee? Hot stew on rainy days?

    Would dancing in that rain bring me relief? Would it dull the daily aches of being alive?

    What is comfort to an anxious mind? 

    To calm the panic that is constantly on the rise.

    Three things that are true,

    You are loved, and that love is warm,

    You exist, where there is pain there is life,

    You are in control, all it takes is a thought.

    Three things that I can see,

    My hands with which I create the most beautiful worlds,

    A blank page for those worlds to take shape in,

    A pen, to release whatever form this world chooses to take.

    Three things I can hear,

    The racing of my heart,

    The shallow end of my breath,

    The voice inside my head.

    I am nothing more than a connoisseur of tranquility.

    Measuring all that is and may be harmonious with the turmoil that drives me.

    Seeking solace in the sunsets of the lives that existed before me, 

    The stars that twinkle above me,

    The sliver of wonder in which we all exist in the same lifetime. 

    Can you imagine it, perchance? Can you see the awe the world created when it allowed us to be here together?

    Making creatures of comfort, monsters of habit, and spirits of peace.

  • Love at First Write

    I fell in love, but not in the way one would think.

    I fell in passion with cadence,

    Fell in between the lines of a stanza.

    I gave sestinas and soliloquies my everything,

    And I gave the feeling of it all, half of my heart.

    I fell in love.

    And it wasn’t all at once.

    It was a slow sweet conquering.

    Lifted words off the page, branded them against my memory.

    One by one I inhaled the letters of the alphabet.

    Learned how my tongue twisted around each one in every idiom my mind could remember.

    I caressed them with ink tipped fingers on any blank page I could get my hands on.

    Can you imagine such a catalyst?

    I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.

    Let’s make love on this page

    In between every line.

    Let’s pause on commas,

    And end on exclamations!

    Or in them if you rather.

    Talk to me about verbs and nouns.

    About how adjectives did you in,

    How sensory details flirted with your desire.

    Until all you could do was inhale me off the page.

    Until you could taste me on your nerve endings.

    Until you could see me in your imagination.

    Until you could hear the soft mornings of italics, the sweet thunder of bold.

    Until your fingertips created the dotted lines of my body.

    Moving up to my beginning, and caressing the end.

    Using past and present participle to finish me off.

    Deliver me in cadence!

    Deliver me in song!

    End me with a period, in finality, our resolve.