10 second love story / “Somehow”

pickup truck couple

Somehow

 

I spend a lot of time above a pen and before a keyboard,

trying to let you know how I feel and what you mean to me,

usually to no avail and causing greater confusion.

I’d like to somehow write away the trail of devastation

that you are now forced to walk in the name of me

making a delusional attempt to save the world.

I need to somehow write us back in time

to the place where we were little more than a rumor

and your eyes were smiling more than sad.

I wish that I could somehow write you into my heart

where you could sit quietly and hear it beat for a while

and listen to the words of my own song,

not the lyrics and message of others.

I should somehow write us a two-person tailgate,

with a honey whiskey paper cup and a six-pack

discussing life – real life – while parked under

a “Jesus is the Answer” billboard.

If I could write all of this somehow, you would

understand perfectly what words are in my head

and what my mouth is trying to say.

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Poetry / “Songs you can’t dance to”

Songs you cant dance to_cover

Songs you can’t dance to

 

The cloud that covers me when

I trace the curve of your back

 

The blindness that overcomes me

when I see the back of your knee

 

The hangover I fight through

on the morning after we touch

 

The momentary blackout you cause

as you lean in eyes closed for a kiss

 

The dense fog that surrounds

when you show me your love

 

The deafening beat of my heart

as it is pressed onto yours

 

The numbing buzz of my skin

underneath your fingertips

 

The frantic swim to the surface

so I don’t drown in my emotion

and in our twisted tangled sheets

 

As I wait for you to come back

from sleep and your dreams

these all invade my head

 

And as with songs you can’t dance to

I am beside you listening to them

in a warm horizontal haze

copyright 2012 Steven Harz

My eBooks of poetry and romance are available at Etsy – please visit my page:

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Poetry / “Hallowed ground”

 

Hallowed ground

 

To much of the world hallowed ground

is a grotto under a church in Oh Little Town

 

To others it’s a sacred monolith in Mecca

or along the banks of the river Ganges

 

Some feel it’s the killing fields of Gettysburg

or where their hearts are buried South Dakota

 

And others find hallowed two holes in Manhattan

one in Pennsylvania and one in a five-sided wall

 

But to me it’s much easier than these because

my holy land begins with a table and two chairs and

an initial kiss hello outside of a coffee shop

on a warm November morning

My eBooks of poetry and romance are available at Etsy – please visit my page:

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Poetry / “Red”

red light

Red

 

The stop signs

(two)

and traffic lights

(too many to count)

between his house and hers were

(considered by him to be)

impediments to the

far too few minutes and hours

that they spent together

each day

(or week or month)

but the same red

lights and signs

on his way home were like

magnets that could not keep him

(from having to leave)

but kept him closer

to her for brief

but wonderful

pauses

(in time)

copyright 2012 Steven Harz

My eBooks of poetry and romance are available at Etsy – please visit my page:

https://www.etsy.com/shop/OctoberRoadPublish

Poetry / “Cereal box decoder ring”

decoder ring

Cereal box decoder ring

 

Your pink pillow now missing

had been inside an invisible box

with a Crayola note on the back of

a love letter treasure map

saying something about

‘in case of emergency’

 

So I go to my drawer and find my

cereal box secret decoder ring

to decode your internal scars

 

And for external scars I use a

toy store telescope

backwards because they’ll look smaller

 

Forgotten wounds are rediscovered

with a cracked and dusty crystal ball

from a back of the closet toy box

 

To uncover hidden clues I put your

abandoned diary in a

Close ‘n Play phonograph and

listen to the silence

 

To learn from tears you have left as a wake

I move weightlessly across black water

like Jesus or a bug

 

And when I reach the other shore

with a dime store shovel and pale

I dig where the X marks the spot

 

In a loose dirt shallow grave is a

Peter Pan treasure chest

I flip the latch and open the lid

to find your pink pillow case

empty except for my old Magic 8 Ball

that quietly says to me

‘Reply hazy, try again’

My eBooks of poetry and romance are available at Etsy – please visit my page:

https://www.etsy.com/shop/OctoberRoadPublish