Sometimes, I think my heart breaks without telling me
Like it’s trying to feel something it once did before
Though, if I allow myself to give in to its longing
I’ll go and break it even more
A Heart to Live, Not to Love
Category: memory
Bar Keep
When I turned that key, the night was finally over
It wasn’t easy, they threw a few fists
Mad that the ale had dried up
Now, in the calm of being left alone
I would start with the ashes
dumping out another one of those “greatest nights ever”
Like I Wasn’t Even There
sure, the memories
but, the smell, the taste, the touch,
all still left to make believe
I miss…
the very start
opening characters, scene one
greener grass, the bluest skies, salty ocean
that street light at night where I would measure my shadow to the tip of the moon
those flaked fences, white
a particular damp night sky that I loved and haven’t smelt in a long, long time
tipped-toed curbs, run past the shop
yes, my eyes could go blind and I would still make it anyway
follow the path by memory alone…to my home
grab a bunch of those crazy flowers along the way
but now, I can only recount
because tomorrow had to come
and now strangers walk about
like I was never even there
My Heart’s An Open Book
Every day…I write you a love letter.
No pen, no paper, just what’s inside my heart.
I know they never reach you.
But, right now I’m OK with that.
Because, no matter how many words I’ve written, or how many more I’ll write.
My heart will never close what was, what is…what will forever be,
the best chapters of my life.
Dream A Little Dream Of You
tell me how I can make a dream come true
like the one I had last night of you
and then there was the night before
and…well, so many many more
it’s the one where you said hello
and the tears suddenly began to flow
we rushed into an embrace and held each other tight
all I wanted to do was hold on with all my might
I tried to stay for as long as one dream could remain
in a place void of the hurt, the loss, the pain
oh please tell me how I can make that dream come true
when I dream a little dream of you
Plagiarized Love
my love for you is like a book with stolen pages
beautiful words erased
deleted lines…replaced
everything’s torn from the very bind
words rewritten that were never mine
an unknown author with a tale of a broken heart
spends his lonely days with nowhere to start
his pen runs dry
there’s nothing more to capture
in this tragic love story without its final chapter
Happy National Indigenous Peoples Day!!!
Hey Everyone,
It’s National Indigenous Peoples Day here in Canada, and given that I’m 3rd generation myself, I am dedicating today’s entry to my grandmother. She was Mi’kmaw, and a member of the Miawpukek First Nation. I’m currently a voting member of the reservation band council and have been for many years now.
Continue reading “Happy National Indigenous Peoples Day!!!”Bike Writer # 25 – This Life is Yours!!
This life is yours. Take the power to choose what you want to do and do it well. Take the power to love what you want in life and love it honestly. Take the power to walk in the forest and be a part of nature. Take the power to control your own life. No one else can do it for you. Take the power to make your life happy. – Susan Polis Schutz
Bike Writer # 23 -It’s Good to be Alive!!
Another glorious day, the air as delicious to the lungs as nectar to the tongue. – John Muir
French Island
surrounded in the francais
schoolboys like I, chase through stone corridors in jest
pass tank topped bread makers and
rum runners filling dark sacks
who was I to speak to the going-ons of this foreign land
take me instead to the countryside
in an hour less a half
share with me tales
let me sip wine
and pretend that I am a man
Earth To Ash 