Unrestful Night

You grieve
for every perceived
slight and aggravation
you ever gave.
You shed
unwelcome tears
for well done kindness.
You cringe
while on the fringe
of too-much-remembering,
of rights done wrong.
You forgive
all those who dig
your shallow grave.
Too kind to live.
For all you save
past deeds remain
right there to haunt you.
I know the feeling,
nothing you do
will close your eyes,
but it’s time to sleep.

Writer's Block

If I weren't so tired,
I would write a poem.
Something to tickle
and tease the intellect.
If I weren't so very
bloody and annoyingly
tired beyond belief,
I would write a novel.
I'd write 200 and 22.
Well, since this is
the kind of day you get,
when the week
has rendered you weak,
I guess all I can do
is tap on these keys
and hope something brilliant
comes out of the blues.

Promise

When all that I've known
flows freely,
I walk on the cobblestones
towards another rebirth.
I wink at the rainbow,
stare straight into the sun.
Where one journey has ended,
another is begun.

Short Good Night Poem XI

Mingled scents come from the courtyard;
buns burning, leaves growing.
Silence plays a weary tune,
and in the blue before darkness
we share our dreams with the sun.

They Say the End Is Near

They’re courting disaster,
creating their own end,
looking for apocalyptic
signs and portents in the sand.
They’re begging for challenge,
wanting nothing more
than something to fight –
anything will do.
The bleeding of the heavens,
the sufferings of man,
they try to conjure panic
just to feel the pain
of something real.