Poem: the samurai's sword

he held it with exquisite care
with fingers worn from wear
and a soul as old as the ocean's sigh...
he held it high
and proud, and with all the grace
of a strand of silk, floating in the space
of the memories of the night.

and then the sounds
grew... louder, distant drums as one
as the eagles and lions with men's limbs
came storming over the shore
that pain and countless more had dimmed
and which the waves barely found,
to that point at which his sword stood its ground,
even as its master prayed
for that fate that only ever awaits
those with destiny at their door.

and then the sounds grew still,
quiet as the graves that this day would fill,
and the world had only three sights:
one of crimson and of dread, of red
and the tiny drops of life that bled
out of each and every slice
as the wind whispered goodbye
to the stars, one by one,
as they winked out into the light.

oh how it weaved its magic spell
its heavenly voice singing a song
no one else could hear
whose meaning no one else
could tell
as it whistled its way round that long
autumn breeze on that clear dawning day
as the sword, with no one else to kill
sang its last quiet hymn
while the man that held its beauty and its breath
exhaled one last, final reverent moment
and then, just as quietly... fell.

Please, Lord, help the Lakers win the NBA championship... :)

Just a heartfelt plea from a life-long Lakers fan. :)

Poem: the bridge between "you" and "you and i"

I haven't written a poem in ages... Guess I just either didn't have the time or the inspiration. So call this a belated addition to my many angsty thoughts on life. :)

* * * * *
the bridge between "you" and "you and i"

the chair you always say you liked
sits, cold and unwarmed
in the darkening april night
as empty as when
it first came into my life
now that you have left it
for the very last time.

it's funny how eloquent a silence can be
or how you fill my room still
even as you no longer step inside
and even as i no longer remember
whether your tears made a sound
or why my heart had to hide
each time you sobbed a heartfelt plea
to have me hold you in the dying light.

my arms could not move, you see
as full of futile feeling as
there is now emptiness in the night,
even as the moon spoke words of moonlight at
a world that had long ceased to open its eyes.

and every aching word you sought
to thaw away from me, as the winter slowly
melted its ice
would not flow so smoothly down
those jagged crags of rock that formed
the mask i wore outside.

somewhere, in the distant sky
a single whispered "sorry" dies
alight on the cowardly wings
of sorrow and regret, and i
took the bridge between the worlds
of "you" and "you and i"
and walked away long before
that whispered word could reach
your lonely, broken, weather-beaten door.