Seconds

This is another poem from one of my old poetry books. I wanted to post this one because it's so different from how I write now, yet I still love this kind of writing. Again, let me know what you think ! 


No vacancy, 
no place, no room, 
empty, yet full, 
turned away, like every other time. 
Lights off, dark halls, 
empty graves, hollow words, 
desolate, a place to call home, 
among the homeless and the fatherless; 
rest in peace. 
Far across from the corners of this emptiness, 
drawn from the black rivers, 
hung from the dead branches, 
are pieces of the puzzle, 
out of reach, undiscovered. 
Names and dates, 
faces and answers, 
fleeting. 
Ever so fleeting. 
Just like the time, 
now, now, now, now, now, 
You've failed me now. 
And now. 
fleeting...
and now. 

Welcome

"Welcome home"

echoes in my ears 

as our car pulls in

to the snow-dusted driveway. 

And the stars are uncovered, 

because the clouds are away, 

and it's with tired eyes

that I behold them. 

My feet are wet 

from all the slush, 

and I regret wearing summer shoes 

in the middle of February. 

But what matters most

as I walk through the garage 

is that I am here, 

and the miles separate. 

I am welcomed home, 

by what is known 

and by what is old 

nothing new, 

nothing has changed, 

and in this season 

where nothing is constant, 

"home" is what I need. 

Maybe I'll smile. 

Oak Avenue

It's raining liquid love
and pooling on the concrete
are the quizzical looks and hidden gestures,
falling from a broken sky.

The roof leaks on days like these.
Water on glass shards create a symphony,
drowning out the screaming,
covering up the cries.

A house underneath a heaven so high,
yet filled with the darkness only Hell could bring.
Even as the rain falls,
These walls will never be white again.

You couldn't wash away these stains if you tried.