All the Things I'm Not

I'm certainly not a wit
Unless you count the way my eyebrow lifts
When I hear a thoughtless remark
As wit.
I'm certainly no giant
Unless you think having a giant pile
Of unpublished poetry
Makes you a giant.
What about an intellectual?
After all, I've been called that before.
But that was before I forgot everything I've learned.
Genius, then?
God help me if I am.
I suppose, in all honesty, I am a poet
And nothing more.
A poet, becoming a man.

Eternal Spring

Forever blossoming is the world,
Forever spring in the hearts
Of those who give their love.
Forever blessed with the air of truth
Are those who breathe deep
The memory of their youth.
And those who are aware of the sun's arising,
Though alone, stand on pedistals
Above all they know
And are worshiped by the collective soul
Which in their prayers they speak to.

A Longing Gaze

I caught her gazing at me,
Her eyes wide and blue
As if it were the sky opening up before me
And I were a red balloon.
Weightless in her endless gaze,
I hoped to sail into it forever.
But alas, too much pressure, and I popped
And floated down, occasionally getting a waft
Of her perfume.

Lawn Chair on a Spring Day

The lawn chair is empty in front of the house.
Someone, I think, should be enjoying the sunshine,
Forgetting that I am doing exactly that.
There will always be an empty chair.
There will always be a hidden place where someone is weeping.
Even on a day like today, when the sun invites all,
There will be someone who must carry all the shadows
To keep the rest of us from darkness.