I used to write a lot a long time ago. Haven't written poetry in years. Here's a small sampling:
-----------------------
we gather friends
like so many bouquets
of butterflies,
which, sadly, so sadly,
sometimes slip
from our fingers
and flutter away
into the breeze,
leaving us with empty hands
and a mind full of memories.
-----------------------
REFLECTIONS
I long for the days
of candy floss
and Ferris wheels,
when we could
take off our shoes
and stomp through
mud puddles.
-----------------------
AND THEN THE RAIN
The air lies heavy with saddened bird songs,
and waving leaves whisper to each other
in wordless hushes.
Clouds blanket the sky in fluffy billows,
swirling, tumbling over each other
on their way to some other non-existence.
The sun smiles bravely
through the spaces left by the wind,
a wind forever keeping time on its track,
forever pushing time onward toward eternity.
And then, thunder laughs out its arrival.
Silence echoes for a moment,
and then the rain.
People worry it, dare it, threaten it,
curse it back to Heaven,
and then close their doors to it.
Yet, only a child can discover its worth
in the timelessness he faces,
by washing his new shoes
in a visitor from the sky.
-----------------------
When will people realize
that I, too, have feelings,
that I, too, can feel
the Hurt and the Pain
of Loneliness.
I am, after all, human,
with human capabilities.
I laugh, and cry
as you do,
I feel sorrow, and pain,
and fear,
and,
anger.
Everyone wants to feel wanted.
I want to feel wanted.
I want to know that,
when I am no longer around,
I will be missed,
that someone might say,
'If only he were here.'
Being necessary
and being wanted
are not the same.
Being wanted means that
others want you with them
for no other reason
than the fact that
you are you.
Being necessary means that
you are there
as a matter of convenience,
to make things easier for them,
to do all the things
they really don't want
to do themselves.
So far, I feel necessary.
I want to feel wanted.
-----------------------
I remind myself of the Grinch,
searching for Christmas,
and finding it
in a little girl's smile.
All of my life, I've searched
for the meaning of love.
Youth offered none.
Adulthood even less.
At last,
a glimmer of hope,
then it dwindled,
all washed away
in the spring run-off.
-----------------------
(This next one concerns a real friend of mine from long ago. I've changed his name to protect his identity, not that anyone here would even know who he is, but it seemed the prudent thing to do.
It's in 3 parts, each written at 3 different times.)
-----------------------
KEVIN
I watch you sitting there
on my bed
the way I usually sit there.
I watch you carefully, secretly.
I must not let you catch me,
or you may ask me to stop.
I can't stop looking at you.
I don't want to stop!
You don't know what you do to me,
do you, Kevin?
Even the sound of your name
sends a warmth washing
throughout my body,
flowing into the centre
of my being.
I say your name
in my private moments.
Kevin . . . my Kevin . . .
I watch you sitting there
on my bed.
Too far away to touch
(and I mustn't touch,
for that would cause you fear,
and I don't want you
to be afraid of me).
I can smell your youth
from where I sit.
I sense your kindness
and your gentleness.
Your sweetness floats over to me
on an invisible beam of your energy,
piercing my chest
and driving itself into my heart.
Yet,
I see your strength as a man
as you sit there
with your legs out-stretched
before you.
The black denim of your Calvin Kleins
clings to your power,
holding it in and keeping it
away from my grasp.
Your being lies hidden
by striped shirt tails
laid cautiously across your lap
as you sit there
in innocent ignorance
of my thoughts.
Your hands, too,
lie cradled there
in you warmth,
blindly caressing that part of you
I so desperately wish to caress.
And I have done so,
a million times in my mind.
I have explored you,
and touched you,
and felt you.
I will do so again,
a million times more,
in that Kevin part of my mind.
KEVIN'S VISIT - November 16, 1992
I was so happy
to see you tonight,
Kevin.
When I opened the door
and saw you standing there,
smiling,
I wanted to reach out and grab you
and hug you close to me
and tell you how light I felt
that you cared enough
to visit with me.
You were beautiful tonight.
Do you know how beautiful
you really are?
You are stunningly handsome,
boyishly cute.
Your face lights up the room;
your smile lights up my life.
I tried not to stare at you.
It was extremely difficult for me.
Forgive me for daring to peek.
At one time, I thought that
nothing could look better on you
than your black Calvin Kleins.
The soft, worn, pale-blue jeans
you wore tonight
were so snugly inviting,
teasingly exposing,
enticingly delicious.
The soft, gentle,
manly curves
of the bulges
cradled so tenderly
at the juncture
of your denim-wrapped thighs
drew my eyes like a magnet,
and I was unable to resist.
I thought of the prizes hidden there,
and I thought of what I would do
were you to offer them to me.
I would cherish them,
and love them,
and make them
as much a part of my life
as they are a part of yours.
I'm glad you are a part of my life,
and I hope you never have to leave it,
but I must tell you
that I hope for more,
because, if I didn't,
I would know that my life
would be over.
KEVIN'S VISIT - The Other Side
I opened the door
and there you were.
Fuck, I was happy to see you.
I wanted to grab you
and hold you in my arms
and pull you close to me,
to feel the warmth of your youth
flow into me.
You smiled, and my worries
melted away into nothing.
Blood pounded through me,
stimulating me, exciting me.
You were so fucking beautiful,
standing there,
smiling that delicious smile,
your eyes sparkling from under your cap.
Your boyish innocence
does not allow you to know
just how 'drop-dead' sexy and cute
you really are.
Kevin, you make me very happy.
Once upon a time
I was content to sit at the snack bar
and watch you as you
wandered about your business,
tidying tables, pouring coffee,
flipping burgers at the grill.
I would spend hours just sitting
and watching your body move
in the black Calvin Kleins
you liked to wear.
I loved how the denim pulled tight
over your ass when you bent over a table,
and your crotch bulged ever-so-invitingly
and shifted ever-so-enticingly
whenever you walked.
But, tonight,
your jeans,
washed over and over
to become so soft and pale and snug,
hugged your body as only denim can.
And, as you sat there,
I wanted nothing more in life
than to make your body
feel better than it had ever felt before.
For both our sakes,
let it happen.
](/images/smilies/bang.gif "Brick wall ](*,)")
. And this is a great thread, you can do so many things with words!
