Poetry

I see a sea of light.

A rolling wave of luminaries
gathering as tributaries
together in one place
as a well-spring of grace.

Rising up, ever higher -
a golden, glowing, holy spire,
climbing up the sky
beyond the limits of my eye.

And burning at the very core
was one who could be nothing more
than some noble deity
who gestured and called out to me,

“You are welcome here.”

Haven

They’re hidden in plain sight,
all the secret signs:
the guideposts of the light,
the path of the divine.

Those who can conceive
all that they are gleaning
are those who also receive
the duty of its meaning.

They must travel at the fore
into the unknown dark
and blaze the way for more
who are following their marks.

And in this way each generation
carries on the conflagration.

The Road To El Dorado

They’re so self-important -
staring down their nose
regarding us as lesser, “ants”,
to be crushed beneath their toes.

They have only one lover
deserving their affection
and that one is no other
than their own reflection.

I have just as much use
for them as they for me
and often wish they’d choose
to love more quietly.

Because I don’t want to hear them prattle
about how they’re cowboys and not cattle.

Shallow In, Shallow Out

I wear the sky:
like a sheer robe;
like a second skin.
I bear the sky:
like a breaking wave;
like a suit of armor.

Summer Air

I do not know you.

For when I see you,
it is by the merest flicker of candlelight
dancing along the edges of your skin,
ignorant of the depths of your curves;

when I hear you,
it is only the quietest whisper
that hides between the sheets of a midnight tryst
wishing for the timbre of a boisterous afternoon guffaw;

when I touch you,
it is reminiscent of a polite museum visitor
who wistfully desires to more fully experience
the magnificent grain and texture of every frozen moment;

when I breath you in,
it is a fragrance that teases me,
like rich spices wafting through the air
promising a meal that always leaves me hungry for more;

when I kiss you,
it is a sweet and salty hors d'oeuvre
lacking the depth of palate of the ocean
I can feel in your arms as they try to drag me under.

I do not know you;
not the feeblest shadow of a shadow of your radiance
but I look forward to learning - with earnest, attentive enthusiasm.

Sensational

Though the ground may not be stable
and a storm may toss you about
like a bag of dry, brittle of leaves -
don’t forget to breathe.

Though you may be surrounded
or driven into a corner
by all manner of assailants -
don’t forget to breathe.

Though you may find yourself alone
before a cold, uncaring world
wanting to cry out for a reason -
don’t forget to breathe.

Reach out and steady yourself,
rise to the challenge of the moment,
stand up, face forward, and, as always,

Don’t forget to breathe.

Living Meditation

I wear each and every note
like the finest winter coat
that keeps me quite warm
through the raging storm
of a world at my throat.

Shrouded In Song

Do you have music in your veins,
that pulse of fire deep inside -
the kind you look for in soft refrains?

You pull it out with such sweet strains
of fingertips that grip and glide.
Do you have music in your veins?

Brought to life with such pains
you can hear in each note the pride,
the kind you look for in soft refrains.

Falling as gently as the rain
and rocking as hard as the tide.
Do you have music in your veins?

You refine it until all that remains
is a phantasmagoric, sensual ride,
the kind you look for in soft refrains.

That kind of passion never wanes
and takes the long years all in stride.
Do you have music in your veins,
the kind you look for in soft refrains?


Dedicated to Toubab Krewe, without whom this poem would not exist.

The Sanguine Song

I’ve found you after all these years
of wandering with bitter tears
that trickled down my hardened face
that softens now thanks to your grace

Bless The Broken Road

To all the people
who’ve left me scars,

Thank you for the shyness
that makes me stand apart.
I never needed to fit in
by ripping out my heart.

Thank you for the sadness
that lingers all the while.
It makes all the more precious
those moments when I smile.

Thank you for the fear
that often gives me pause
and makes me reexamine
my actions for just cause.

Without these I would not be
the man I am today.

I Forgive You, I Thank You

Isn't it a wonder
that despite those piercing pains
you could dig down deep and sunder
all those heavy, heavy chains.

‘Cause they’re just the remains
of all your former blunders,
lingering like refrains.

So howl like bloody thunder
and raise a dozen different Cains
and tear yourself from under
all those heavy, heavy chains.

Baggage

There’s one thing I wish to know…
Nay, not wish but instead must
know if you are a friend or foe.
Are you someone I could trust?

Can I let you past my crust
to places others cannot go
for fear of their wanton, selfish lust?

Are you someone I can show
my fragile, wounded heart of rust
who won’t add, again, unto my woe -
are you someone I could trust?

The Trembling Tower

I’m different from the pack -
I stand on the outside.
Always on guard for an attack,
always prepared to hide.

Is it so hard to just accept
and love me as I am?
Why do you feel you must reject
and hurt me once again?

I cannot change my ways -
it would be a lie
though honestly some days
I’m tempted to try.

So I’ll stand proudly, full of grace,
while tears are trailing down my face.

Poignant Profile

Please save me a kind word -
it’s been one of those days
where I still haven’t heard
a single word of praise.

Would it really be a trial
to stop by with coffee
or to linger a while
while sipping your tea?

Share with me a moment
of companionship
that would make me less lament
this day of utter shit.

For it’s in small gestures that I find
peace of spirit and of mind.

Off The Beaten Path

I had a picture in my head
of the man I wanted to be
but I've settled instead
on this fragile forgery.

I don’t know what transpired
that turned my dreams aside
or what forces conspired
to crush them ’til they died.

But I can feel the holes
where they used to dwell;
all the shining goals
before they burned out and fell.

Forcing me, at last, to part
with the me I carried in my heart.

Goodbye Halcyon Days

I called you silly names
to try to catch your eye
and played your silly games
while thinking myself sly.

I used to snap your bra
just to watch you jump
while the things in you I saw
made me swallow back a lump.

I carried all your books
to prove that I was strong
and complimented your looks
because I wanted to belong.

Now looking back, it’s plain to see
all the changes that you made in me.

Amazing Grace

The deepest dark cannot compare
to the midnight in my eyes:
a haunting herald that falls short
of my ambitions realized.
And when my rancid, wretched heart
is for all publicized,
you’ll all search lexicons in vain
for meaning in my ebon eyes.

Black

“My friend,” you say
in a casual way
with a smile on your face
and the wrinkles all in place
from years of treating those like me
with such gracious courtesy
that what we taste in every bite
is nothing less than a delight.

Smiling Shopkeeper

When I was a child I had a chest
and thought that chest the very best.

And in that very best of chests I hid my treasures
and sorted those treasures according to their measures.

And in that best of chests of measured treasures there was a key:
a key that was the most important thing to me.

For the key that was, to me, a highly measured treasure resting in my best of chests was for the king of all locks,
a lock that went with a most magnificent box.

So I hid, with cleverness and pride,
the measured treasured key that was important to me that went with the box bound by the king of all locks in my very best of chests
so NO ONE else could get inside.

Contained

I've been waiting
so very, very long.

I've waited in theaters
lamenting lime-lit lovers
and backrow teenagers making out -
ruining many-a-romance.

I've waited in restaurants
with couples crouched in conversation
over shared dishes and deserts
that have spoiled my appetite.

I've waited along the street
as I walked towards my destinations
observing dates in the dark
and intertwined fingers.

I've waited at home
watching fake people fake love
and offer promises
which I refuse to pay for.

I've waited ‘neath sheets,
so cold that they’re quite cruel,
and through nights spent reaching for you
only to find the edge of the bed.

I've been waiting for you -
would you like to do?

The Vigil

Indie author. Daily poet. Well versed. Lover of the arts.

Poetry

Daniel Meyer