An Ode to Love

Tell me what it means to be happy,

Because in this moment,

I can not breathe.

As my heart’s song fills the deep valleys of my lungs,

no words escape my tongue,

But bleed purple ink on worn paper.

 

Tell me what it is to love,

The cracks between your fingers.

To know them like my own,

To mend these broken bones,

And convert my jaded tones.

To fill the wells of tears I shed,

And breathe in the sky with these wings, you spread.

 

Tell me how blind eyes see the desires of my soul?

Because the girl who dwells inside,

is awestruck by your light,

Murmuring sounds of pure delight.

Cheerful liquid fills my eyes,

Peering into yours, there are no lies.

Thou, who sees through my puzzled skin,

And paints strokes of beauty, deep within.

-N.B.

Life Boat

Cracking through the sunlight

Of criticism’s dawn.

But wait, turn your light on-

Through the dim mist of that mind

Tiresome, sore, war-torn,

Perspective

You throw around like careless pennies,

Into the water but they don’t sink-

They drown,

Like me, but I’m still holding my breath,

For what’s left-

Hungry eyes peering up through murky depths.

A life boat couldn’t come sooner.

-N.B.

Fire

Time you are a fickle beast.

Life you are a short-

cake, too quickly swallowed.

Tick, tick, away of my tomorrows,

Long hand, short.

No sugar to sweeten my heart’s sorrows.

No seasons to mix,

As I struggle to warm this cool stove,

And leave barren leaves undressed,

Like this naked soul,

And hopeless dreams lacking zest.

 

But, who are you, who whisks breath into my flattened chest?

And stirs life into my hidden desires?

One flame was all I required.

One flame will suffice.

Until I light my own paths

And spark my own fire.

-N.B.

When Small Men Fall

Small men will fall,

short of their expectations.

Their onset of pride,

brewing, like the storm in their eyes.

Lies they will spout,

out of spiteful, little mouths.

Small men will break,

under the pressure they seek.

When their greed is uncovered,

smothered in apathetic promises,

concocted with spiteful little minds.

 

Small men will fade,

like the shadows in the night,

like thunder come sunlight.

No light-

-ning shall transpire-

here, where smoke filled mouths will never tire.

 

Small men, you will fall

like autumn leaves when November breaks.

Lest you let your pride be what winter takes,

And shake the dust off long closed eyes.

For a wiseman, reborn in Spring,

Will watch in awe,

As women rise.

-N.B.