Talk to the river
you say
Listen to the water
there's a way....

In the still places of my memory
I often summon the respite
which seems to linger
in the coolest refreshment
of the flowing water.

Talk to the trout
you say
Listen to the fish
there's a way....

In the silent depths of my imagination
I often seek to hear the sounds
which frequent your ears
in the deepest part
of your very essence.

Talk to the man
you say
Listen to the soul
there's a way....

In the pristine dreams of my heart
I often feel the sweet kiss
of the waves on my face
in the tender
moments of solace.

Talk to the heart
you say
Listen to the poetry
there's a way....

Ok let's figure it out:
you found solace
a refuge from pain
a light in the storm
with everything to gain.

Ok lets be realistic:
it wasn't perfect
but what ever it is
was it ever better
than it was before?

Ok lets analogize:
when you find 
your favorite slippers
you wear them 
through the night.

Ok lets distinguish:
there is good
and there is bad
do you ever cherish
the moments that you had

Ok lets remember:
that life does go on
it has no other option.
but you can make a difference
the choice is yours alone
 your heart knows the truth.

Ok lets decide now:
don't know what you want
no one can tell you
where the least resistance lies
but, just in case it matters
you still have your slippers.

Ever notice that
Life is like that, you know,
every time you seem to grow?
you have to know
that this is just life
you did nothing wrong
it isn't your fault
it is just that reality plays
one of those cheap tricks
on the greatest of days

I choose to display it 
just for me to see
twinkling gloriously
rich and beautiful hues
that savor and dance
in delicate memories
of when everything fit
i want to polish it
make it so bright
sparkling lovingly
as it dances in the night.
recesses of time
seem to make it its own
but will not efface it.
so i put it in my heart
where it lives on
flickering brightly
remembering the dance
safely tucked away
where i can find it
when i have the chance

The feelings have waned.
you don't hear choirs
you listen to the screams
of loves gone wrong - 
of pain 
and vile ugly remembrances 
of things that shattered - 
you assumed that is the case
that this can not be different.
things are not always perfect,
unmarred
if only that were so
you would have joy
and muted dreams would belong
to those who refused to believe
in  the possibilities of hope.
did you ever stop to think
that the vanities of life
the small metamorphosis of time
can sometimes alter
the moments in our mind,
molding them into something
that they are not?
how can you say it is not so...
how can your dreams
become your nightmares
throwing away the delicate treasures
of love?
our souls were one.
you listened to the lies
and in order to justify your fears you used me as an out
an excuse for your insecurities.
intricate webs of life
intertwined 
to reveal that somewhere
amongst the screaming in your head there is one soft voice
whispering this is not so.

Several of my chat friends also write poetry:

[A Dove] [Blood Covered] [Candalee] [Calico Cat] [Dead Guy Walking] [Ike Walton] [Lumpy Kevin] [Mercysmine] [Mom TLC] [Molitov 51] [The Well Wisher] [Vanatelli] [Wintersong]