Sunday, June 08, 2014



the wind whispers
indistinct phrases
that blend into the patter
of a summer's rain
on a tin roof
and in the confusion of sound
i hear what
most i fear
a voice gone silent
and in this pall of dread
i remember your beauty
however twisted and reversed
in the reflections
of puddles too soon passed
in a single step
but these folds of reddest satin
do not enshroud a happier past
instead becoming the shredded
rags and ruins
of all the tattered dreams
we once shared
until at last
i gave up hoping
gave up believing
that you might be there
waiting in the somewhere
of this journey
along the road that leads
at day's end
to places beyond nowhere

i have traveled for so long
i no longer remember where
i have been
and if i stop and consider
then i guess i have to admit
i guess i have to concede
i have no place left to go
except maybe some
lonesome purgatory
where dusky ladies drink
shots of the holiest wine
and offer solace
in the crevices
of their bodies
but little more
and i wonder if time
had not crippled me so
i wonder if i should live
another decade
or maybe two
but only i confess
only with you
by my side
i wonder and i wonder
would i ever be able
to tear the ruffled
curtains of contradiction
away from every window
and at last turn the key
that opens the door
and sets you free

i wish i could count
the kisses of our love
but like a small boy counting stars
i stumble and i fumble
when in an instant
one flickering light
is gone from the splatter of space
leaving a furious trail
in its wake
before disappearing
into forever
and sometimes i wonder
if love's like that
and sometimes i wonder
if my thinking is straight
or bent like smouldering iron
beaten and broken
on a blacksmith's anvil
i guess that the best i can offer
is news i heard along the way
back a lifetime ago
when the teachers
of heartache assured me
that romance is dead
shot twice on a prairie road
before desire
could give way
to desire
shot twice in the loneliness
of a flint-cold afternoon
before passion
could find the spark
to light the dust remaining
and set it on fire

and yes i know
you have read this before
and yes i know
the words grow tedious
and maybe sometimes cold
in the endless
beat of repetition
like waves spraying up from
the seawall of my division
catching sunlight in flight
before crashing like drops of salty tears
across swollen eyes
and for that
i am ever sorry
just remember me
as a man who offered
the world a bouquet
of words and phrases
entwined with the mystery
of weeds and thorny branches
some simple conversation
that i have never claimed
to be miraculous
never even guessed i understood
beyond the sound of my own voice
just know that all that
i have written
i have written because
i had no choice

© Kennedy James. All rights reserved.



Sunday, June 01, 2014

forever is ... forever

forever is ... forever

these are the scraps and pieces
of the life you left behind
a torn photograph
a clutch of letters
and a heart divided

i've kept them long enough
and maybe just a little too long
so i've packed them
in a cardboard box
to send them back to you

you'll recognise the photograph
and the words you wrote to me
but the half-a-heart
that was always yours
may not be familiar anymore

i've heard you've fallen ill
and may not make it through the year
the kids say that you've been asking
for me to see you one more time
and i can only wonder why

so i'm sending you this poem
like the ones i wrote for you before
the ones you tore to pieces
when you said you were leaving forever
and left me broken and alone

but now forever has finally come
and i hear your sad failing voice
calling to me from the darkness
from the cold and empty hallway of regret
from the place i have tended so long

light a match to a candle
light a spark to the smallest hope
and know that i was here yesterday and the day before
waiting for you to call at last
but i'm simply not here anymore



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