its been some time
since i heard your voice
i pass your number on my phone
the promise of one day feels hollow,
empty; it tries to fill the space
you once inhabited.
maybe this is how its supposed to be
which is hard to admit since
you are an important character
in the tales of my unremarkable life.
i only have the fondest memories,
dozens of remember whens, yet
all my current news is second hand.
they tell me you’re doing great.
i wonder if they told you the same.
or some version of the truth and
my vanity keeps you at arms length.
maybe our lives were always
two separate intersecting lines
destined to meet at one point
never to meet again.
I think these Seven Pieces of Advice from Rumi, always applies as a gentle reminder…as a way of being.
In generosity and helping others be like the river.
In compassion and grace be like the sun.
In concealing others’ faults be like the night.
In anger and fury be like the dead.
In modesty and humility be like the soil.
In tolerance be like the ocean.
Either you appear as you are or be as you appear.
You can’t always get what you want.
Johnnie and Lexi were singing the Rolling Stone song. ” You can’t always get what you want, but sometimes we get what we need. Me and Lexi sitting together at the Irish Pub on the Monterey pier. She was a long-time poet friend trying to change my mind about love and life.
She was a auburn beauty, long-legged, tanned and she had fierce brown eyes. We met every Thursday for a year and a half. Ladies night at the Irish Pub every Thursday. Two-dollar mix drinks for the ladies and two-dollar Long Island ice teas till nine for the men. The great drinkers, dreamers and lonely folks gathered looking for some conversation and some company.
Lexi , she told me. Love is just myth and tale. Yesterday memories and faces are gone. The old memories, just added weight to be carry and to…
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Senryu The sensual feel of silk against one’s bare skin Dreamy, seductive Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©
This coldness between a woman and man
when one heart carries the guilt of a deed
and the other recalls where it began
so both are heartbroken and left to bleed
while each in silence weep alone and grieve.
When does the dance of forgiveness begin
for neither are without some mortal sins
Is it trembling yearning to kiss sweet lips
and the craving to feel skin upon skin
Then love overcomes and anger’s eclipsed.