Poetry is the kind of writing that leaves an aftertaste.
Not a nasty aspartame tongue coat like a cheap diet soda,
But sweet like the kiss of your love after they sucked on a cherry Jolly Rancher.
Poetry lingers on the mind for days, altering the way every breakfast, lunch and dinner tastes.
Poetry is the memory of fine wine warm and expanding.
Poetry is dessert savored, and not eaten all at once with gluttonous abandon, but one small spoonful at a time.
Poetry is the aftertaste lingering in our mind, behind our eyes.

Sipping slow steeped beans on the porch,

 

Before I

Go for a walk,

Passed the garden I’ve tended.

 

Before I

spend the afternoon

Lazy words falling

from my paddles into the lake.

 

Before I

Jump in the car

and touch a breeze in no where

 

Before I

Make the call

to ask how you have been.

 

Before I

Stop by to check

on those I love longest.

 

Before I

finish my book,

Or my other book,

After a bit of poetry reading.

 

Before I

Sit in the coffeeshop

and listen to the world go by.

 

Before I

Cut and cook

something fancy by the book.

 

Before I

Invite you to come over

and paint with me.

 

Before I

Fly a kite

Over a field where I lay

and count the stars.

 

Before I

Perfect the loop and stitch.

 

Before I

Forget to live.

 

 

Once in a Blue Moon

I can’t sleep

And my body aches

From carrying the weight of me,

And my mind wanders

In the dark and quiet.

 

You tell me that you are not snoring

But only moments ago your rumble

Was down my back and in my hair.

 

I get up to write.

I am a million miles into the sky

And some how still firmly planted here.

So many things I want to do,

To see,

To know.

 

Projects near complete,

Wait on the tips of my fingers.

What is it that stops me?

In the small hours,

With no distraction.

 

Fear.

Fear of failure.

Fear of rejection.

Fear of vulnerability.

I don’t care what you think of me –

As a person –

But my work,

That is another story all together.

A sword of criticism

For which I have no defense.

 

Out in the world I am fearless and open,

But here in the mirror of Blue Moon

I am fleshy and soft.