Apologies...

I suppose when you get older, you start to think about purpose in life. Well, we do when we are younger, sure, but I have started looking back more than forward, seeing what was lost, all that could have been gained, and the middle path: what actually happened. 

It is tough to love someone and they do not choose you, or life inevitably chooses something/someone else for them. If you have ever had to deal with this, I am sure you understand. And it can be hard to forgive that love and harder still to be forgiven for loving, for only being human. In the end, one must forgive one's self for this purpose as well. I wrote the following piece some years ago, since edited it here and there (as I always do), but... it was a start down the road of forgiveness of self through the window of time, of course. I do not know how much further I have come since then, only that I am older and doubtless not that much wiser. Still, I like the poem mostly because it takes me on the journeys I have loved most in this life... and that is well, too.


'Apologies'

I walked the shores of midnight seas,
Reveled in days that did not end,
Wandering ancient forests, 
Sleeping upon verdant fields
But a time, a soul would not wait,
And the longing could not fade.

Paths mattered little as I roamed
From city to town, hillside to beach,
Traversing storm-tossed crossings,
Metallic thunder racing the night
Yet a heart, a place could not wait,
And the yearning did not fade.

I sat watching the world amble onward,
Doing as it should to survive,
Embracing an enduring wonder, 
Reaching for unbridled joy...
But the heart and mind cannot wait;
For hope eventually wastes away.

It was not my wish,
But what happened remains;
And longing for yearning toward hopes of love,
Must like all things... 
Slip away.

C.

Golden Bay

I suppose, technically, I am referring to Wainui Bay, a place of indelible beauty and comfort (at least to me), north and west of the Abel Tasman Track on the South Island of New Zealand. It was one of those places where you could be wading in the ocean and yet see some peaks in the distance still covered in snow. The imagery in this place was quite staggering, as were many places, really, but I felt I could lose myself (and depending on the tides, trap myself) in the nooks, coves and small beaches of the area. Sometimes, I wonder if I still do... memory being what it is. So, what follows is a little stream of consciousness/blank verse about thoughts and such while walking across the bay and the area. I had written these thoughts down while in New Zealand but was finally able to put them in some cohesive format (um, at least for me I guess :)

'Golden Bay'

A drifting illusion on water
Amid such quiet calm
Waiting...
Beyond a distant twilight,
Lingering upon a gentle shore.

A passing thought in silence
Burdened by the tempestuous wind
Hoping...
Reaching toward your caress
Within the memory of simpler days.

Moments of serenity...
Lost to vanity and pride.

An image of a wistful dream
Borne in a sea of stars
Wishing...
To yield our tempered passion,
Hidden beneath the scars of night.

An illusion on water,
Carried by the wind.
Wanting...
Seeking some hope of resolution,
Upon the solace of your distant shore.

C.

Haikus...

I have never really attemped haikus before. I mean, I knew how to do them, but something never really clicked. However, I started thinking of some old work and wanted to see it in haiku format among other things. Funny, I was vaguely inspired by an old 'Calvin and Hobbes' strip where Calvin offers a haiku to a sleeping Hobbes... quite funny, if you are a fan of the classic comic. In any event...

'Fontevraud Abbey'

Crumbling ruins...
Whisper in silent repose
Duchess and King.

Ok, so one old piece... the following is new.

'Golden Bay'

Such quiet calm...
Comfort upon a distant shore
Warm... your caress.

C.

Memories Of This Life...

'Memories of This Life'

A tempering calm amid the burden of sin,
Instinct laughing in the weathering face of time;
Resolve eroding with every 'might-have-been',
A singular, tangible moment our only crime.

Remnants within seconds lost to the gulf of night,
Awakening upon the beauty of a far-green shore;
Distant echoes of indelible days unfurl beyond sight,
A heart yielding yet wanting for more.

For all such solace beyond the thoughts of love,
I can put aside the ache and shadow of our strife;
A wandering soul with nothing left to prove,
Hope fulfilled in the memory of this life.

C.

Cheese

One of my favorite quotes is G.K Chesterton's comment about poetry and cheese: 'Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.' Well, I am breaking my silence on this matter this morning after thinking of the many moments when I would be quietly getting a piece of cheese out of the 'fridge when all of a sudden Merry (a very small shi tzu/ schnauser combination) is right next to me waiting for her share of the goodness. For being basically brain-dead (she barks at everything, even me), she is awful clever about food :)

'Cheese'

swiss cheddar
gouda brie pepper jack too
little growl tail wagging
waiting for a bite
grated unwrapped block
sliced matters not
always knows ready to beg
little growl tail wagging
so cute
provolone shredded deli
style too
smiling laughing antics
so many times
swiss cheddar
little growl tail wagging
off with her prize...
dogs and cheese
who knew?

C.

Solace of Love

I actually wrote an entry called 'Solace' a long while back, but it was more a question than the subject here, the idea of solace within love, which is certainly an ideal to seek for, and what love usually brings, or can bring if we are willing to let it.  So, I just put a few words regarding the subject down and then went from there... sort of how it works with me.

'Solace of Love'

I long for your solace...

Gentle thoughts of unending days
Memories fresh in glorious repose
A tender caress eases so many
Aches of a weary heart.

I yearn for your comfort...

Quiet calm in the deep of night
Time lingering between seconds
Yielding to an enfolding desire
Union in depths unbound.

I wait for your touch...

Elegant splendor amid the joy of 'morn
Moments beyond a cradle of stars
Rest embracing all existence
Manifest in this light of the soul.

I long for the solace of your love...

C.

Company of Your Heart

Switching gears, I wrote this almost immediately after the previous poem, perhaps my subconscious recognizing I might still have a little of the romantic left... or what can pass for hope in my constant waking dreams. This is also a little different from a stylistic point of view, reverting to a more traditional... sonnet, one might even say, though I would digress. I was simply thinking, or in this case, writing aloud.

'Company of Your Heart'

I ask for nothing save the company of your heart,
Giving all I must in return.
I seek only we do not remain apart,
Discarding the burden of expectations and pride.

You reveal so much more than I know,
Reaching through an instant of time.
You bespeak wonder burning within the soul,
Aching in the shadows of furtive dreams.

I yearn for but the tenderness of your grace,
Enraptured amid such a passionate respite.
I seek the enduring comfort of your sweet face,
Ending finally the storms of my regrets.

I ask for nothing save the company of your heart...

C.

Memories of Distant Roads

I suppose it must be easy, considering my past, to try and read into what I write... hell, I do it. The following poem was sort of an exercise in writing, though I did feel a sense of sadness and regret as I let the words escape me. The subconscious can be a powerful motivator, and it often has more to say than I do at times. Often times, though, I still do not know what I am saying, only that I have to say it... or write it, as it were.

'Memories of Distant Roads'

Your heart...
Tho' I may never see
Such indelible beauty
Revealed in the fullness of your light.
I know...
What may one day be required
For the sake of memory
Adrift upon a darkening shore.
We see...
Eye to eye even in the
Harsh glare of today
Hope tempered by who we must be.
I understand...
Sorrow must eventually fade
For the sake of yearning
Cast upon the embers of love.
My heart...
One you might never reach
Across this gulf of moments
Lost in a waking dream.
We know... we knew.

C.

Open Mic Night in Golden Bay

Well, thought I would have a quiet night waiting for the rain to clear before I moved on. Instead, I stumbled upon a pub that was having an open mic jam session, so with the help of some kind folks from the hostel, I did some readings from some of my newer works and from my second book. Thankfully, I had some background music to help out and make me feel a little less overwhelmed (it was actually a decent sized crowd for a very small town). In all, I think it turned out ok and helped a tough day end well. In any event, it had been a long time since I had done something like that, so... all was good.

C.

Upon Queenstown Hill

This particular poem was inspired by the starkness of the water and mountain views from atop Queenstown hill, about 2000 feet or so above the town... staggering really.

'Upon Queenstown Hill'

A singular instant of such a radiant dawn
Seeks to ease a tempestuous burden
Fraught by an unending, unyielding gulf
'Betwixt the realm of the heart and soul.

The majestic serenity of sweeping hills
Knows the fire kindling within
Held fast through this quiet struggle
Amid a glance from waters beyond icy blue.

Tomorrows fade upon a far green shore
Waiting as this world races the night
Dreams escape a hope of fragile memory
Under the breath of a forgotten lament.

C.

Midnight's End

Again, as I have mentioned before... sometimes there are poems you wish you did not have to write, though some of them can be a little hopeful. To a degree, this is one.

'Midnight's End'

Dream with me...

Though tides and time hold us at bay
Reach into the moment within,
Live in the moment without,
Feel my call beyond the breath of midnight's lost.

Speak with me...

E'enn if ten thousand leagues stand in our paths
Seek this gentle movement,
Trust this tender soul,
Listen to my heart enveloped in the warmth of dawn.

Wait for me...

Though I wander the currents of tide and time
Hope in this veil of twilight,
Yearn in this wonder revealed,
Wrapped within the memory of the night.

C.

The Cape

I promised I would have something more substantial about my journey to Cape Reigna...

Sometimes there are poems you wish you never had to write. In the deepest part of my heart, I feel this is one of them. While necessary and a bit liberating, it still was tough, and I hope those that read this do understand. Regardless, I do think the piece puts some issues finally to rest, and given the light of recent events... it had to be done. Anyway, I hope I have done some justice to my heart and for the future in this regard. The rest, dear reader, is for you and the world to decide...

'The Cape'

Toward this end a world awaits,
Fading in vacant thoughts of quiet days.
Words dissolve in nascent twilight,
Within a heart that cannot stay.

From a tender hope a moment falls,
Into a realm devoid of waking dreams.
Longing drifts upon her silent tides,
Amidst a heart that might have been.

Her waters caress a distant end,
Beyond her shore this memory weeps.
Our words dissolve in fading twilight,
Beneath her shore this promise sleeps.

C.

The Long Twilight

Just as an aside, some readers who have followed this blog for awhile might recognize the following poem, which is actually pieces of two poems (though mostly a title and ending change). It just seemed appropriate to modify it to this form and call it one piece...

When writing, I am a continuous editor, which I suspect might be a good trait. Often times, I will do what Frost used to do and let a poem or other work sit for a year or so, and when I come back to it, and I still like it, then it might be worth keeping... or at least refining. Virtually every poem I have written has gone through some variation or another (though I have a few notable, mayhap even incredible exceptions that some have read... or own a copy of :) It is the nature of writing, and also it gives me something to do when I am less inspired than normal. I hope that New Zealand will have the same effect on my inspiration that Australia or... others have had. In any event, the following poem is actually a fusion of a sort of two older poems, maybe a little maudlin, but I have always appreciated the metaphor of twilight and dreams (as many waking dreams occur for me in twilight, so...). On another note, this one actually rhymes, one of 4 or 5 that I have written that do... every now and then the nut finds the squirrel :)

'The Long Twilight'

I know the solace of regret...

Torn by choices from distant days
Sensing what could have been forlorn
Laid bare in full view
Of the nebulous light of 'morn.

I yearn for a memory of ignorance...

Borne from remnants of desire
Yielding to a truth that would not stay
Lost in the sorrow of desolation
Caressed by the shadows of a fading day.

I seek the embrace of absolution...

Coursing through veins of doubt
Removed from this soul's gentle light
Welcomed ever so warmly
Into the approaching wasteland of the night.

I am haunted by twilight...

C.

Silence of the Heart

Since my new blog has difficulty with adding comments, I thought I would add this new piece as a new entry and move fresh from here... maybe its better that way. I always enjoyed the camaraderie on this blog, regardless of present circumstance. Maybe it can help me again. So, on to a new philosophical extant of a piece that may or may not ramble... just a little wondering, not too personal :)

'Silence of the Heart'

Sit...
See a moment not yet imagined,
Hold fast in the quiet before dawn.
Drink in the wonder of creation
Lest it fall away into the void
between the stars.

Wait...
Were it possible to do so,
Reach between the seconds.
Yearn within an instant of revelation
Before it dwindles in the resplendent repose
of eternity.

Dream...
Seek an understanding of the heart,
Know what awaits amid such calm.
Give all to what can only be imagined
Perhaps then the illusion will finally
fade.

Love...
Even within the silence of the heart.

C.

Her Perfect Shore

'Her Perfect Shore'

My love drifts upon her perfect shore...

A dream... a gift from happier times
Landscapes form in the hopes of fantastic days
Life... enfolded in joy.
Enraptured thoughts, blissful
Yet so unaware.

My hope rests amid her calm embrace...

A memory... forged when the world was new
Desire manifests in the instant before a kiss
Comfort... tangible and real.
Indelible wonder, unending
Yet so fragile.

My spirit understands her passionate soul...

A place... a refuge created within the hearts of stars
Affection revealed in tender accord
Peace... a yearning complete.
Gentle movements, heavenly
Yet so unaware.

My love drifts upon her perfect shore...

C.

On Love: Revisited

In a far earlier post 'The Nevers That Consume Us', I took a more realistic approach to love and how we deal with love, but realized when I posted this essay, I have been more like what follows. In truth, one must be a pragmatic fusion of the two, and to be fair, I have never been one to take my own advice, my curse in serving others to a fault. These are things that I wish I could but wish I could not change. A dear friend told me, even after she pointed out all my terrible faults, she did not want me to change... and she was more right about me than I know. It happens when you give away the best part of you to someone. Yet, I remain a sap and a hopeless and helpless romantic anyways as I know that this essay truly defines the man I was, am and forever will be. Eventually, I might be more practical, but would that truly make me happy?

'On Love'

Such is my love, to thee I so belong,
that for thy right, myself will bear all wrong. --- William Shakespeare

The above line I think has summed up my nominal feelings about the subject of love, or it is at least the feelings and thoughts I should have about a complete love... perhaps even the love I wish I could have, and until recently, thought I did have. Sometimes it is the love I lost, and then it has become the love that I regret. On the whole, it is a confusing mess that has made me, more often than not, a hopeless and helpless romantic. It made me a person who has naively struggled with the hopes and dreams of my own love while bearing the burden of others in a cycle that repeats itself unendingly. Therefore, the words of the sonnet by Shakespeare are applicable and the root of my ideals, and also the root of my conundrum. I have borne so much that the ones I loved would be happy at the expense of my own happiness in many, many ways Love... or madness? In terms of unconditional love, then I should think that my actions were the truest expression of love, for I have loved without hope or expectation in return even when it tears all my strength from me. To me, love is giving, and recently, I was not giving, but expecting... expecting she would always be there, expecting a promise, expecting what I should have been giving in return. Indeed, now I am still expecting, though I want to give... I want to give of my heart and release myself from the sorrow of such unconditional desire and love. So, I ask myself again... love, or madness? Perhaps a little of both.

Being thusly a romantic, I have done so many odd things for the name of love. I have composed sonnets in the middle of a crowd just to get a woman's attention. I have read and sent poems to many a woman if only to help them understand the nature of love and still never expecting in return. I have written at my most passionate for one I loved. I left the one I loved because I was too cowardly to face my fears and stay, forever altering my life. I have created a bond with someone that can never be broken (though has been strained to a point) and, for now, it is not enough. Through all this, what drives me is more what I can imagine about love, and about my ideals of love. Needless to say, reality is far different than what we imagine, a pain that I have suffered too much it shames me too admit. If anything, I have become more pragmatic than I would like and yet, I cling to some insane optimistic and oft times suffocating ideal. Many a lesser man would have given up the ship and hardened their heart. Me, well, that would be worse than death.

So therefore, I make myself suffer because I am a little too idealistic and hold myself and others to a higher standard for the sake of a love that might not be possible. Well, it is possible. Alas, the world did not see fit to allow it to continue in the manner it should have. Of course, her life turned out great and that pleases me. And I then regretted what I lost only to think to find it again but then lose it because I sacrificed too much for the sake of the one I loved. She was also insane, but that is another matter entirely. In the end, only the idea of love was left, and I was left holding the bag, but the bag was filled with a bunch of annoyed cats :) Finally, when I did not think I could feel like the romantic I once was, I could and did. Yet, it was not enough; however, what was shared gives us the hope (um... mostly me at this point) that it could be again somewhere down the road. Maybe in an ideal world, too, but ideals are what makes me the person I am... Hope is my waking dream as Aristotle once wrote. I hope, though I understand.

One might think that my experiences have made me bitter and remorseful. I admit that bitterness has its place, but only for a moment, for it will consume you. I cannot say if I am past remorse and bitterness, though it shames me. I think that it will not consume me, and this, too shall pass. On the other hand, it can be that this has been true to a degree, for it has made me wary of what seems wonderful because I fear it could not be again... and again. I am sure all romantics deal with this in their lives. I know we do. Unfortunately, that has been why many a romantic has died far too young (um, not that I am going anywhere). It is perhaps their hallmark and the source of their great strength, in writing and creating emotion. And I refer to romantics in general, not just myself. Nor am I saying my words are any better than others. To me, the romantic has been through so much that they have no choice but to have an outpouring of emotion in love. It appears in everything they write, be it an essay, short fiction or a poem. It is a part of who they are and of who I am. The romantic has a connection with the emotion of love itself. It is both wonderful and yet deeply tragic.

It is said that experience is the best teacher. Therefore, I feel my experience has given me an insight into love that I did not have as an idealistic kid of nineteen. As a bit older and though less wiser man of thirty-five, I know better; however, when I write and have written especially in the past year or so I longed to be that boy of nineteen... A boy with stars in his eyes who knew what could be forever. Sometimes the man I am has held me back, forced me to be to practical and less giving of who I am. I have always wanted to tap into that fountain of emotion created by connections beyond words. I have achieved that in the strangest of ways, much to my undying gratitude and love, and my abiding sorrow. We are what the words make us, and the words are all we know and all you should know about me. I have been the water that does not realize it has been broken by the rock... for good or ill, this is my love.

Well, I think I have said enough of what I know of love, which probably not that much in the end. I hope you take from this what you will, for it is my offering to posterity, such as it is. All that I truly know of love is that it is amazing and that somewhere, in the depth of my soul, at the heart of the universe beyond time itself, it can last forever.

"Only those whose lives are so brief can imagine love to be eternal. You should embrace that remarkable illusion... I think that it is the greatest gift your race has ever received. " --- Lorien, Babylon 5

C.

Tides

For the one who will forever be my home...


'Tides'

'And the sea shall grant men new hope as sleep to dreams'-- Columbus

In the calm of resplendent days
So sure of what would never end,
Hope seemed unending
Joy made complete...
Within the solace of hearts forever entwined.

Amid the wake of the water's edge
Not heeding the change in the winds,
Thoughts became disjointed
Moments concealed...
By the sound and fury of the murky shore.

Beyond the current of this life,
Unsure of what may yet still be,
Hope has its place
Joy need not be forlorn...
So long as these hearts remain forever entwined.

C.

Awakenings and Glad Tidings

'Awakening'

A caress, so peaceful,
Elegant and vibrant…
Wondrous, your touch
Holding close, your scent
Filling this soul,
Even within the quiet of the
Heart.

A breath, so gentle
Calm and warm…
Comfort, your presence
Glimmering, your eyes
Easing this spirit,
Though the miles keep us
Apart.

A woman, so incredible
Beautiful and dazzling…
Perfect, your love
Unyielding, your hope
Yearning for a time,
Caressed together by the warmth of
Dawn.

A dream, but fulfilled…
Even within the quiet of the
Heart.

C.

Only You Will Never Know

Some of you might have seen this before, but I wanted to post this again since some have not seen this, and it was one piece that really helped put a lot of my pain from long ago to rest.

I wrote this before I left for Australia the last time, but it is about what was left behind the first time I was in that country. A large part of my heart remains, no matter how many times I return and leave, and she will never know... but that's ok. On the other hand, I often wish she would read this, just so she would know the reasons she would never know.

'Only You Will Never Know

Are we happier now?

Our love the price I paid
In silence... In agony
Our love the cost of duty
To what? Home?

Am I stronger because?

Our joy was made incomplete
For reasons beyond the moment
Only now understood
But in the end?

Did we feel again?

Our hopes were reawakened
In the dreams of other days
Wondering... waiting
In the shadows of our memory.

Are you happier now?

Our love swept clean
In the fires of rebirth
Our life forgotten
Lost in the wake of time.

Would you care to know?

Who I am...
Is because of you.

I do not think you will ever know.

C.

Crucible of Memory

Sometimes when you see the future, for whatever reason, it can feel like a dark place, especially as you reach deeper into the twilight of your life. This poem, a slight revision of an older one of the same name, captures that to my mind, for when we have forgotten everything, all seems lost, the universe still remembers... and loves.

'Crucible of Memory'

Night falls harshly on our lives,
Memories of the sun warm upon our face.
So dim in this chilling landscape,
A darkening form languishing, haunted
By an image... so sweet
Yet long forgotten,
Words frozen in the crucible of time.

Future's days slip away in shadow,
Twilight remembering all we have known.
So far from fantastic hopes and dreams,
A gentle heart suffering, distraught
By a love... so incredible
Though fading into solace,
Words occluded in the fragments of time.

Tomorrow dawns tenderly within our soul,
The sun once again warm upon our face.
So amazing to sense what was lost,
A welcome reminder returning, fueled
By a memory... so true
No longer forgotten,
Words emerging beyond the edge of time.

C.