Bluebird Blues

there’s a bluebird
more shadow than song
perched in my heart– reformed,
recast in steel: the inward
cage, holding in a melody
like strangled air
beneath an ocean.
I say, stay alive,
enough to break beyond
the fallen feathers grown
extinct, where the night
is really oh so close
and we’ll remember
what hope is anyway
if I we could only find
the key.

there’s a bluebird lost
where feathers have forgotten
feathers, where the
bones all digest and
the whistle will not yield.
and I call and call
where hope is buried in itself
and find myself calling
again, again.

Crisis Eminent:

Hold your breath,
For it may be your last.
I’ve heard the whispers
From the bay, and
Feel the storm at hand.
We sailed, full knowing
The risk, the wreckage,
The pain, and though in crisis
It feels all too real,
It was always at the edge
Of what we knew.
Do not pretend;
The storm knows no lie,
And though we came to live,
We had always come to die.

In response to:



From bitter eyes,
Never sent,
To be forgotten,
You never meant.

From hollow years,
At the core,
Cast aside,
In mirrors.

In the peripheries,
Who’ve lost the spark,
Now fallen nightmares,
Looking dark.

Life’s a hurry,
I must confess,
I feel I’m drowning,
I must address.

From the sages,
Turned to ages,
With final breaths,
Put to the test…

On and on,
I will contend,
When you start counting,
From the start,
You start
To wish there was an end.

Response to the prompt:

The Maiden of sweet death

In continuation to trying new poetry, I’ve tried my hand at a Triolet. It’s really fun and simplistic in form, yet still very meaningful. Let me know what you think.

To the maiden of sweet death: I knew
My life was not beyond me.
In the essence of her eyes, so true,
To the maiden of sweet death I knew,
In death, she promised life anew–
Though she had yet to call me.
To the maiden of sweet death, I knew,
My life was not beyond me.

Haiku Collection

I decided it might be fun to try my hand at some different styles of poetry, so I wrote a few Haiku poems; I hope you enjoy.

At the horizon,
Beyond the darkness and veil,
I wander alone.

Clarity at dawn;
At last the world awakens,
So will my lost heart.

I can use all the
Syllables necessary
To complete this poem.

Love is a flower:
A spinning petal at brink
Of falling away.

Time is the border
Between what always could be,
And what never was.

Humor is knowing
Exactly the moment when
You, yourself, would laugh.

When in Sadness:

Silhouette, whose name befalls me still, become me;
Strike where I may fall or to heaven ascend.
Melancholy is but a shade of your sorrow, and more often mine,
So, in painted blood, may I defend
Your secrecy, and may tears be our wine?

Silhouette, whose mark is of the soul, become me;
If so, at last, I see the end.
The Nightmare’s wish is now upon the day—
No sun could now amend.
Your voice I feel upon me now—command me if you may.

Silhouette, whose honor is in death, become me;
Your somber spell I now commend.
So to hope we cast in ruins, as is the fate of fallen minds.
What was of me—do not send.
What you seek—you will not find.

Silhouette, whose angst I cannot cleanse, become me;
My tattered body I dare not mend.
I need not imagine your hallowed condemnation—
The hollow halls I now attend.
For who more to blame, I confess, than my mind—the creation?

Silhouette, who better to be, so become me;
Or so, as you have, you will try.
I have seen your embrace, in much greater men—
To falter, so means I will die.
Cast away, au chante, I’ll be waiting;
Your name, once a secret, I’ve found.
It is you who should fear—I’ll be waiting.
Until you descend on my soul once again.

Waves of moving on

In an earlier post, I talked about my group poem for Louder than A Bomb, so I decided I may as well share my individual poem also: so without further ado– here ya go.


I don’t know what to do.
I’m speaking at a distance never able to come through;
I’m listing words I’ve heard that lie like truth,
So here’s a nice confection for your sweet tooth.

Are you listening?
Ya these words come hot it’s blistering,
No soaps not enough, here’s some Listerine
To wash out those words from your mouth.

Look I’m sorry, but I’m not.
If I’d ever once thought we’d drop I’d stop;
Spin words in prose to make you see,
But we’ll never be,
But lost at sea.

And I’m crying out S.O.S depressed beneath the waves,
Don’t yet conceive of drowning,
I’ve just forgotten how to breathe.

And these waves, like time, they change—
We only have so much.
Look I’m standing, no your heart won’t be my crutch,
But I’m crippled from the inside out, no doubt,
And I want you,
I miss you,
And to kiss goodbye so soon,
No I don’t know what to do.
If love is a flower let the petals be the hours I’d wait for you.
If love is regret, I regret but having one life to live and let die for it.
If love is a death, let these words condemn my final breath—let there be an end.

But still, you’ll come against me. It’s essential that you lose;
I’m Louis Armstrong in the heart, in the soul I’ve got the blues.
I’ve been hurt before, my friends like family have come and go,
No time for me will never slow—in the waves they washed away.

So I’ll stay undecided, insecure, misguided—unable to distinguish that lie which was us.
Too much to discuss? I’m sorry—was it really too much to swallow your pride.
No I never thought you’d hide away, that our ties like rope would fray.
They say we’ll all rue the day, but I rue the truth, yes it’s true.
I do know what to do.

And life is but a wave, and I’m left sinking.
Thinking of a time when the butterflies in my stomach
Meant excitement, and not anxiety.
When restless nights came at the cost of
Can’t sleep love,
And not insomnia;
When feeling breathless was so much more than just suffocating.

Life is just a single breath.
But you.
A final goodbye as the Fates cease to knit.
Ya, I do know what to do.
I just wish I could forget.