Betoken
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume One, Inquisitive, Loss, Mystery, Spiritual
Subtle betoken
 My veil has dropped
   Was this dark life so dim
     Feeling this ice within my veins
       This darkness resides my brethren
Windows tinted with malicious spirits inside
 Can you hear these noises
   Feigning voices this screaming resides
     My own depth wanting so shallow
       This pain suggest I die
When dim thoughts harrow my mind
 My dismay becomes my harrow
   Nightly I wonder why
     Encompassing vision I do not find
       Emotion hinting no ease
Â
Will this darkness fade from me
Within shadows I must see
Thankful Coffee
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee, Coffee - Volume One, Friendship, Humor
A few drips
Amazing what they do
Mixing with water
Something to brew
Bitter like life
Warmed with compassion
Best mixed with friendship
And simple conversation
Describing Beautiful
Posted by Barry Hurd in Author's Favorites, Coffee - Volume Two, Creative Writing, Daily thoughts, Romantic
If I could tell you how simply beautiful you are, if there was a way for a moment, a fraction of a second…to let you know how perfectly graceful your soul is…
I would ask myself ‘Do I think you are beautiful’
and I would answer, without pause or hesitation-
‘Without a doubt’
Sun, where do you go?
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume One, Creative Writing, Daily thoughts, Romantic, Spiritual
I watched a sunset on Edmonds beach last evening. It is one of the best places in Washington to watch sunsets. It got me started on a whole set of thoughts which led to writing this poem today. Something about the hues and colors of a sunset has always brought something to my heart. Maybe it’s the romantic in me.
Sun, where do you go?
What was I looking at
Just a perfect blue
Can I remember what it was
Did I see the sky like my canvas
Was my heart the painter within the wind
Watching the colors as they poured across my vision
Were angels guiding my minds palette
Did you know I was the architect of such beauty
The colors were so perfect
That I couldn’t even perceive the sky
My mind was enwrapped in my painting
As if my heart was colored by it’s feeling as I cry
This canvas cannot be completed by me
So why does my heart try to change what it sees
It knows that my hands are so tired
Yet this beauty is drawn from within me
Where do these thoughts appear to go
Am I to know my own dreams and creations
Will you please come back to this land near the sea
Please come back and light this dream I cannot hold
I’m scared that my vision has already gone
Turmoil
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume One, Daily thoughts, Spiritual
Have you ever had one of those days when everything you is questioned by yourself? I have and sometimes do. This morning I thought about it and jotted the idea down. Nothing like trying to argue with yourself.
 Turmoil
                            I did it
                                     No I didn’t
                  I followed you
                                     No you are lost
             I came from here
                                     No you came from there
Why do you argue with me
                                     Why do you argue with
                                     yourself
Maybe
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume One, Inquisitive, Spiritual
This was written specifically with the feeling of chance wondering. The type of feeling you have when you are sitting on the fence and not knowing which way to go. I often feel that way to the last moment.
Maybe
         Sometimes I wonder
                                      In life and who I am
   I see the glory of feeling
                                      Maybe I’ll know it when I see
         Sometimes I wonder
                                      In reasons I met you lately
I see the freedom of feeling
                                      Maybe I’ll know it when I see
         Sometimes I wonder
                                      In why I can’t say hello
I see the smile of happiness
                                      Maybe I’ll know it when I see
         Sometimes I wonder
                                      In myself and why I bother
       I see the joy of loving
                                      Maybe I’ll know it when I see
Quiescence Rose
Posted by Barry Hurd in Author's Favorites, Coffee - Volume One, Dedicated Poems, Spiritual
Some people are born quiet. Every action they take is toned down. The real them is hidden by a veil of silence or simply muffled under a flurry of noises. I used to be like this. To the point that I often didn’t share my voice with anyone. I occasionally see it now in other people and I know some of the feelings and expressions that are quietly there. I recognize them as if I was looking into a mirror of my own actions in the past. It makes me wonder how I became quiet or whether or not I ever had way to express what I was thinking appropriately. I still find myself in this role often; it is in fact my very internal nature to be quiet. Yet I have learned that some of the best opportunities of my life have been based on communicating my needs and discovering the needs of my friends around me.
Quiescence Rose
Tranquil calming oddly soothing
Hidden temper gently seething
Measured demeanor patiently breathing
Pleasing nature untroubled to see
Hurtful words serene as the rain
Laughing gale sedated by pain
Inner voices held agreeable and composed
No one realizing the void I call rose
Beautiful silence loved by some to be
With dangerous thorns known only by me
Peaceful Living
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume One, Friendship, Spiritual
I realized one thing I really used to like about being close to someone in a relationship- breathing. There is something so calming to me to hear a restful breathing not my own or the steady heartbeat of someone you care for. There is a very peaceful effect of feeling and hearing the rhythm, to the point that it is one of the most calming situations I can think of. Perhaps it is the subconscious knowledge that someone you care about is calm, that you are close enough, or that somehow you are trusted enough to hear them living on the most basic level.
Peaceful Living
Music like an old world hymn
Touching relays believing
Calming without seeing
Beating soothing restful breathing
Feeling hearing of soulful heaving
Knowing feeling so subtle caring
Simply touching gives my spirit healing
Burning Regret
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume One, Friendship, Regret
Sometimes there are so many things to question. In any type of relationship there are things to question, but I purposely try not to think about them. Sometimes there are decisions that you can look at and think how it would all change if someone felt different or had made another decision. I thought back to an old decision and thought about what feelings I had at the time.
Burning Regret
Could you remember me, did you want to
 Did your memory fade, could you see me
Could you feel my presence, did you ever hear my voice
 Did you think me gone, could you see my face
Could you believe in loving, did you believe in me
 Did you want these feelings, could you ignore this place
Could you feel so little, did you feel so much
 Did you regret this meeting, could you hate my touch
Thinking of her
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume One, Creative Writing, Romantic
I hadn’t seen her for days. I felt somewhat lost about it. I mean really, why should I be so wanting to find out about her week? There wasn’t much going on with her, but I just wanted to hear her voice and see her smile. Hearing about a simple week would be so invigorating just knowing that she was happy and well. But it had nothing to do with that. It only had to do with her.
While I loved hearing the little details, it wasn’t about the details. It’s about the way she described the details. The way her hair moved when she spoke. The subtle way she sighed between sentences. The way she would catch me looking at her and it would make her pause. That is what it was about. The brief connection about the words she spoke and how I heard everything she didn’t.
It made me feel good. I don’t know why. Having a simple conversation about the most irrelevant topics was interesting. No, it was enthralling. The ideas we shared had everything to do with what I could feel and almost nothing to do with what I could hear. She would ask me a dozen times or more what I was thinking about and I could only honestly say her.
I was foolish. That is what my mind was always telling my heart. No one appreciates the little things so much. My mind spoke to my heart like it was a child. It was in many ways. It was gleeful, humorous, and playful. It wanted nothing more than to appreciate the beauty and substance of the moments I shared with her. My mind sometimes complained, yet even when it managed to muffle my foolish heart I could still hear the words it had peacefully calmed from my mind.