Hidden Feelings

There are no dreams as he sleeps.
The mind like a slate, left blank.
Only eyes that burn as he weeps
Leaving pillow, cheek, wet, dank.

Where does the pain enter from?
Plug the hole, fill the leak.
The emotional toll, final sum,
Leaving him tired, spent, weak.

Push on! Act happy! All smiles!
Fake it till you make it, so it goes.
Anger, resentment, pain in piles,
Overwhelmed feelings only he knows.

Why can’t he be the real person he needs?
Able to churn like a flooded arroyo.
Hidden feelings like new-planted seeds,
Wait to erupt like an active volcano.


God’s Love

Metaphors roll from his head.
Easy sayings, easily read.
There does not seem to be a good reason
For dark moods in the sunny season.
His heart, it does not break gently,
As wind and dust blow wildly.
All knowledge tossed for emotion,
Looking for some sweet magic potion.
There are no easy answers her.
Laughter, happiness, love replaced by fear,
All balled up into a single lonely being,
Refusing the One whose all-seeing.
He drops hard to his knees for prayer
Listening for answers that must be there.
Phone rings, a friend he was thinking of;
Suddenly he realizes this is God’s love.


Worthless and small is how he felt,
Spent and useless like a broken belt.
The pain from within masked over,
Broken with the loss of his lover.

She has crossed a bridge he cannot,
Looking for something, an answer sought.
Still he waits at the narrow paths gate,
Struggling sadly with the terrible weight.

Not even a whisper passes to his ear,
She does not love him, his greatest fear.
The sun sets and then rises again,
Still not a word from his friend.

The hour draws near and it gets late,
Yet he will stand and endure the wait.
Maybe she will not comeback, never return.
It is a fate he simply must learn.


Laid awake last night in bed
With tempest storming in his head.
Voices cried out with wild fear,
Desperate for that someone to hear.

Forgive came a cry from in the night.
Forgive came that cry, it caused a fright.
Non-sleeper rose up and looked about.
The voice was from in, not from out.

He laid there, trembling at the thought
Was this the answer that he’d sought?
“First yourself,” whispered the tiny voice,
“in this matter, you have no choice.”

Crying out, he said, “Lord, please forgive!”
That’s why He died and how He lived.
A peaceful slumber came to him then
He found the Lord, he found his friend.

Sound of Wind

Where has my God gone?
I am alone and forsaken!
Praying for death before the dawn
Disappointed when the sun is awaken.

Where are my God’s eyes?
Can’t he see my pain and help me?
Wind, lift my words to the skies.
Still He refuses to stop, to see.

Where are my God’s hands?
They fail to lift me from despair.
Living without love and no plans.
The days pass and He does not care.

Where is my God’s voice?
Stronger than the sound of wind?
Empty now, without a choice
Great must be my mortal sins.


Someway, somehow, somewhere, I got lost
There is no telling if I can ever get back
It may remain a mystery at unimaginable cost
With no support, it is hope that I do lack.

Move forward with life, it’s said,
But move forward to what or where?
From sleeping double in our marriage bed
To camper trailer with little room to spare.

With my wife, I could have live anyplace.
However our home is no more by her choice.
It is for me, no more than a storage place
Bitter parting, separation with no voice.

Standing undecided, the crossroads of my life
Do I turn, believe all that I have known,
My happiness, my faith and my absent wife
A question that leaves me as cold as stone.

Lost Lovers

She says she loves him,
A future bright, gone dim.
Now she can’t live with him.
Lost lovers at another’s whim.

Is it his fault or was it hers?
The division line now blurs
Two restless hearts stirs
As one, while breaking occurs.

No-one can be blamed, no-one should,
Yet he’d shoulder the burden if he could
Jus’ to have her back, if she would
Take him, he wants that understood.

She can’t live with him at all.
Lost lovers take the final fall,
Things never the same, clear as crystal
When there’s no communication at all.


He walks silently from room to room,
Knocking about with nowhere to go.
She doesn’t love him, he can only assume.
No longer speaking, he can’t really know.

Stocked by ghosts of the past, future on hold,
Hunting the possible what-might-have-been,
His shadow falls flat on the floor, cold,
Chilled by the spirit of his latest sin.

Quiet time brings emotional meditation —
Tumbling, spilling outward, uncontrolled,
Without a meaningful line of direction.
Nothing in life to which to cling or hold.

These things must be preordained.
Recorded in the great book, the one of all time.
Mind breaking and soul-numbing pain.
Loss of love, the meaning too sublime.

Too Much, Too Late

the cry in her voice, flowing tear
said, ‘take her hand, simple fool.
help her alleviate her hidden fear
try to warm he heart, left cool.’

her voice recoiled at the slightest touch
yet no retraction of body to withdraw
he wonders, ‘does she love him much?’
nerve of the heart-string obviously raw.

what is it, he wants from this woman?
love, life, happiness, or her permission?
a nod, a glance, a gesture, the can?
he knows it’s more than premonition.

so cross the river of tear that stream
she cries, he cries, too much, too late
it is the ending of their blessed dream.
let go, let God, as He knows their fate.

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