Your Smile Catches Me

It’s your smile that caught me first,

I got lost in it

like a moonlit ship at sea.

Your words are what thrill me

Keeping my attention like,

“All hands on deck,”

Those big beautiful blues,

like the sky’s glow

guiding that missing ship home.

I know no more touch

then our lips pressing,

so it’s your heart that interests me most.

It’s your smile that makes my heart beat

and that’s worth the weight anchored deep.

The Words Escape Me

The words to write about you escape me,

a fear I never thought I’d face.

Words stumble from the brain

and stop before lips ever give them a place.
I struggle to pronounce love by name.

The words trickle in thoughts

shining only for seconds

and disappears like morning fog.

My concentration crackles my brow 

my mind races for descriptions

of how my world exists in your eyes.

Words don’t stop me,

the letters only spell out sounds.

I drop my pen and book,

frustrated with trying.

I lie in bed and do nothing,

I place my hand onto yours

and kiss you goodnight, content.

Think of You

When

I think

of you

I see the sun

I know

I love you

I can feel the heat

And when

I hear

you speak

The music slows

I know

I love you

I can feel the beat

Each moment

That our

lips meet,

time just stands still

I know

I love you

I don’t mind the wait

Trampled Strings

My fingers trample strings like stallions stampeding in line

They drift away like a dream muted in usual time.

Hands chop on an axe, lumbering down frets

Hammering with no regret

how that saw blade sounds.

Bow-like bends, slithering snake slides,

move that blue woe to trumpet aloud.

Aurally arousing reverberations

vibrate loosely in an ambient tide

lambently surrounding pleased ears

like welcome-home-lips kiss frustrated tears.

I choke that speckled neck severely

conquering that black wood frame

making her sing my name.

Tiger Dream

Tigers dream of other tigers, free in an African field.

Losing those tiger stresses, as they slip to sleep,
Their imaginations run wild as the heart of the tepid sun.

The grumble of slumber caresses dirt under belly.

Windswept, with the tall grass, as flies dodge paws,

Their tiger feet never retreat, or heel as the open air roars.

Pouncing through beds of life with other tiger tails.

The barred claws twitch, as the lonely tiger snores.

What Words Are Now Spoken?

What words are now spoken?

Repeated again in that constant tone

Maybe worse, said with more meaning,

None the less gone.

In which tongue was it lunged

as when it was flung viciously

in sincerity and truth,

stumbling out to that vulnerable fool?

Those woven words broken,

or articulated injudiciously,

maybe even misplaced,

‘til now they hit upon a home.

Michigan Air

There’s nowhere else I'd rather be,
than here breathing this frigid Michigan air.
A bitter misty exhale when breath's released free,
thrusting our souls out into a harsh smoky cold.

In the dismal December when the freezing rain is sleeting,
saunter a three-step stomp to clear boots of slushing ice.

The low lamplight, that plays as a fireplace,
spreads across my face with the blasting storms
beating against my windowpane.
I sit in somber, causally repeating a simple phrase we Michiganders, utter,

“This weather will change into something better. “