Revisiting Old Poetry

I've been looking through my archives and I'm choosing to share these poems because it reflects how I feel at the moment. Enjoy!

Moments and Memories

Moments past and moments renewed,
Have only brought hopes of anew,
Memories that chill and times of glum,
Are only times past and forever forgot.

True memories and unforgettable times,
Are made with love and fortune,
With cheerful hopes and smiling hearts,
Do we cherish in an endless chain of memories.

Do not regret, do not fret, for we are learning,
The mistakes we cause, the misfortunes alot,
Are merely preparations for a time unforgot,
Wait for those moments, wait for those times,

For it is those memories that define our lives,
It is those moments that we remember and cherish forever.

Exuding with Hesitance

During the coldest of nights, during the warmest of days,
I feel your breathe, your beat, your lulling soft voice,
My chest exudes with hesitance, willing to escape
Whenever my minds stumbles upon your face,
No, I am not infatuated in your existence,
Nor am I joyful during your presence,
I am shocked, I am astounded, I am paralyzed with hope,
A hope to look onwards for the next God given day,
That I will see your face and given the chance to embrace your grace,
It seems to me, your existence is what keeps me safe,
Keeps me grounded to reality, whatever that may be,
You've given me the chance to experience a precious piece of life.

Snowy Hill

From this snowy hill, I can see the city lights,
The silence is impeccable, the falling snow, beautiful,
Lights are the heartbeat of the city,
My vision, a painting.
There are thousands of people in front of me,
Yet I do not see them,
Words are exchanged amongst them,
Yet their whispers are inaudible,
And so I sit here, unable to find proof of their existence,
But all I need to do is believe they're out there,
Living.

And so I sit here, with a smile on my face,
Underneath the silent sky,
Underneath the snowy night.

Hopeful and Hesitant (Stream of Conscious)

Eyes and ears stare gently at the glass pane,
The candle lit beside me reflects endlessly,
Each flicker appears to be its last,
But until the end comes near, I will stare.

An image emerges with each flick of the candle,
Unlike the flame, the image does not falther,
No reflection, but it stares back at me.

Someone I am familiar with, a person I know,
Miles away now but is here in my reflection,
Are you here to haunt me?
Are you here to tell me?

The flame begins to sit, to remain still,
The image flows intensely,
The image becomes clear,
I know who you are,
Why are you here, disturbing my peace?
No, you need something, but what is it?

An answer that I have avoided for years,
A truth that I will confront,
An action I will avoid at all costs,
I too need what you seek.

The time is now to change who I am,
For too long have I imprisoned myself,
For too long have I fiddled with my conscious,
Nobody except for me knows what to do,
And why I must do it.

Streetlights (Stream of Conscious)

Placing step after step, a heart beat
Is heard around the street corner,
But nothing to spark my curiosity,
As I approach the road, I look to my right,
Lights, sound, a crowd is seen,
Under the shadow of the streetlight,
I stare at the crowd, staring at the people,
The streets are dead, but this place, alive,
An irony I'll never understand,
Across the street, a man sleeping,
Under the warmth of the moon, he shivers,
The music, the people, never have I seen
Such cold hearts, blind ambitions,
An apathy that clouds the mind of the most youthful,

But as I stared through that man's soul,
There's a greater essence to his existence,
A vibration to his humanity that emits a form of happiness,
For he sits and wakes, for he lives and breathes,
Under the shadow of the streetlight.

Look Up

I edge my foot just over the ledge,
The fall is far, frightening to comprehend,
Someone pull me away, save me,
A breeze beckons me to look up,
The view is breathe-taking, heart warming,
The sun is setting beyond the ocean horizon,
I can see the earth's curvature, the end of time,
I take a breathe, hold, and close my eyes.

This Window and the Rain

I can hear the rain drops thud against my window,
The glass is thin and cold, I can feel the drops,
Beyond this window, a voice is heard,
But the rain drops morph that voice into a murmur,
My eyes open to search for the voice outside,
The rain blends the dull colors, but a shape is seen,
A girl, that's all I can hear and see,
Is it someone I know, or someone I do not?
Your presence mystifies me,
My curiosity compels me to meet you,
But this glass window, the rain, stops me from knowing you.