True Love of Coffee

The Things I am

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee, Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts, Dedicated Poems, Inquisitive

I never meant to say anything
except the things I meant to say
the words that came from my lips
compared nothing to those felt in my heart

The rain would fall
and I say a name gently
it makes me feel comforted
by a love that never faded

The clouds part
as day fades to night
a crimson light ignites a memory
and my soul realizes itself alone

Independent in my life
as a partner to a life I cannot define
A soldier who cannot abandon his path
yet an artist who lives so vibrantly

I walk down the road
watching others as they watch me
Holding myself to a fate they cannot believe
as I wait patiently for a signal to let me walk

I pass a beggar
and for a moment I look into his eyes
as I tell him his life is defined by no one
and he responds with a face so honest

I walk into the corner cafe
as I glance around the room
smelling a hint of a double tall irish cream latte
and I wonder how I know that smell so well

The barista looks calmly at me
smiling as she begins to brew my favorite drink
and I ask her where the best seat in the house is
she gestures so whimsically to the corner I always sit

A Symbiotic Dream

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Loss, Love, Romantic, Spiritual

I dreamt one night
that you were there
and my fantasy
was real

I believed for the moment
That you were heaven
Resting beside me
Sent to let my spirit fly

Dear lover
I do not know your name
Nor do I care
Yet I dare with a heart so bare

I may succeed in denying
A simple belief of you and me
As this slumbers beckons
And my dreams fade away unseen

Like a summer breeze
Your breath may touch me
So gently that it stirs my memory
And caresses me to wander in desire

Yet my wish will never evade this story
I will not find myself alone
No dear lover
My soul will rest peacefully when you are gone

I will not run from such a place
Even when I find myself embraced by a warmth
Of things that are simply impossible to forget
This place I slumber where we had met

I dream not of us
But of you and I
Of two lives beautifully apart
But having once been wonderfully together

The Wanderer

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Inquisitive

One day I found myself
Truly dumbfounded by where I was
beneath an old elm tree
on an avenue of life that seemingly held good memory

In front of me
an old Volkswagon van
seemingly settled in the spot it always had
yet ready for a cargo and to move from a moment
that was the only one I could recall

To my left sat a hydrant
holding itself steadfast to the earth
preparing for a day to save someone’s life
that may simply never come to be

To my right was an alley
dividing a community into distinct halves
allowing two groups to share something in common
but designed to keep them apart

Behind me rested a simple home
For some family I had possibly met at the street fair
yet it lacked a face I could recognize
leaving me perplexed to my famiarity

Yet within me I felt only a feeling of being transient
There were no signs telling me where I belong
No directions to indicate the route I needed to take
and no visitors to share my questions with

The Palm Reader at the Street Fair

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Inquisitive, Spiritual

I sat down
aware that I as seeking a reason for being here
The old gypsy woman smiled with her weathered lips
grasping my hand so gently with such warm fingers
as she pressed her palm against my own
and told me what I was scared of

That my life was short
but not incomplete
My heart was defiant and strong
and that I would become a passionate spirit
troubled by trying to reach a point
that would move farther than I could travel

She told me that I would not faulter
that while life did not encompass my dream
that it would touch someone else so deeply
and my hope and faith would inspire another soul
It would pull them from the bitter soil covering their hands
and allow them to cherish an embrace of a loving heart

I asked the old gypsy woman
if she could tell me how to best travel
her eyes spoke of her wisdom in such matters
and without words, she placed a single rose petal in my hand
She closed my fingers around it
It was warm, secure, and soft enough that it faded from my grasp

“That is what your travel will be”
For a moment, I did not understand
I pulled my hand from her and looked down with doubt
The petal was gone
It was now a full rose in bloom
Vibrant and amazingly delicate

“That is what your life will be”
I was confused
My eyes deceived me
and my imagination seemed to play along
but I felt something
A part of my spirit heard what she had said

I looked into the old gypsy woman’s eyes
and said I believed her
She smiled and laughed under her breath
as she knew I didn’t understand
I took a dollar and left it on the table
Yet she placed the dollar back into my hand

“This will bring you true understanding”
I took it and slipped it back into my pocket
as I waved good-bye to the old gypsy woman
I began walking slowly to my house while pondering her words
My thoughts asked so many questions that I could not answer
and yet I found myself at ease

I wandered through the street fair, delaying my return home
As I looked at a colorful world that amazed so many children
and left the adults wondering about daily life
I looked at the clowns and the parrots,
the merchants and the beggars
and I found myself understand everything so clearly

Yet I did not understand myself
I was a child looking at a soul I could not comprehend
It was lavish in color and so unique in its construction
My thoughts of everything included nothing of me
until I simply bumped into a stranger
as small boy, who reminded me so much of myself

He looked at me, no through me
a tear in his eye
and a trail of unhappy thoughts on his face
he pointed to the sky
high above us a single red balloon faded from view
and yet the boy held it dearly in his heart

I took the boy’s hand
and told him it would be alright
I reached into my pocket
Searching for the dollar
and instead found a single rose petal
a petal of no value I thought

But I made my way to the merchant clown
who was a lovely old man
Telling him I needed a balloon to give this small boy
and without question he gave it to me free of charge
He smiled and he laughed and gave me the balloon
he even patted me on the head

I turned to the boy
but he was no where to be found
I searched the crowd and found myself alone
wondering how I had delayed my own problems
to give something of myself to solve a child’s dilemna
and I was simply left holding this pretty red balloon

I walked home, somewhat frustrated
Gazing at this simple floating piece of rubber
That for no apparent reason made me so happy
and I laughed, having tried to do what I could
Realizing the old gypsy woman was right
that a rose petal would bring me understanding

I would hold onto a dream
a petal, a balloon
I would hold onto a faith
and keep it dearly with my childlike spirit
trusting my heart to the beauty and happiness
an old gypsy woman had shared with me

The Star and the Rose

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dedicated Poems, Love, Romantic

You would think

That a heart

Could feel itself in bloom

You would believe

That a soul

Could discover a place to call home

*

But what if

The heart was lost

Amongst a field of roses

What if

The soul was wandering

Through the midnight hue of stars

*

You would hope

That a heart

Could find itself in love

Warm and embraced

By a hand that would never let go

Yet willing to let it thrive alone

*

You would desire

That a soul

Would find the place it always searched for

Comforted and secure

Amongst it’s brethren in a family

Yet cherished by one far away

*

Would one still childishly believe

That a heart

And a soul

Could be separated by so much difference

To find a place to each call their own

Yet find themselves paired in wonderful unison

*

That one would draw strength from being held

The other to collect itself in a land defined as heaven

That one would define the most vibrant of hue

While the other stands in dreams above

That one could be held so close

And be touched by one so far

*

You would think, that a heart and a soul

Could forever find themselves together

That a stranger laying in a field would observe

A simple rose and a star

And know without doubt

That true love could span any distance

Zen Poet

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Love, Romantic, Spiritual

An epic struggle
between love and evil
fought amongst the stars
in the hours of twilight

A zen master, a poet
Who bears not a sword
But honest words
and the courage to feel

His enemy
Not a person or a thing
But the lack of knowing and of feeling
Simply a consuming entropy

A fight disputed in the heart
Fought between lost hope
and peaceful yearning
with two lives in the balance

His voice holds true, a rampant spirit
As if he barrowed strength from the tiger’s roar
His claws touching, but not cutting
As they pierce his soul and release his pain

He bleeds as he finds true balance
in each phrase he holds, in every nuance
As the movement in his voice
Find itself whole in subtle question

Moving through one verse, then another
The flurry of his heart is defying
His actions seeming rash, chaotic, incomplete
Yet ending in perfect calligraphic emotion

His passion echoes a life never lived
And his lust, a care he could never afford
He is a man with only one possession
A life given without question to his heart

A Memory in the Desert

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts, Loss, Love

For a moment, the sun was nothing but beautiful
I could see clouds scattered across the blue sky
and I swore I saw a face in them

I was dying, alone and without hope of being found
My thirst for life had brought me to this place of abandon
and my body seems to be slowly falling deeper into the sand

For a moment, you gave me strength
I would try to move mountains and with your aid I would succeed
and yet I fail to find a way to live without finding myself alone

I was trying, with great hope and heartfelt inspiration
To reach a place of my own salvation where I could be free
and I now know, that this mirage was a failure of ecstasy

For a moment, I cried precious tears into the sands
I would cherish you like no other
and yet I would drag myself to you, trying to find love or pain

I was lying, to myself, to the hands that could no longer feel
I could not keep myself from dreaming of this mirage to save my soul
and when I tasted the foul grain of the sand I was no longer sane

For a moment, I died, knowing I was gone long before now
I reached out into the horizon as I was blinded by the light
and when I could no longer try, I became a soul who lost the fight

I was dead. The deepest passion could not bring me back
Yet I would keep my faith in who I was
and you dear stranger, would wonder who was the one forgotten

Defiant Love

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Love

Her eyes were beautiful
not for what I saw
but what they could see in me

She did not need to be there
but it touched me when she was

Partner in Life

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Defiant

The most beautiful lady
is not one who adorns herself
She is the one who abandons society
and holds herself tight against me

She is a fire
not limited to the things she burns
She loves me for who I am
and yet she consumes me so passionately

She can deny me
and often struggles to be who she needs
Yet her spirit is defiant
and holds itself to a dream she can breathe

Others may confuse her as being frail
yet I know better
As she fights me to the ground
and forces me to plead for my soul

I do not give up
nor do I let her win
I simply surrender
because her spirit is more than I can defy

I do not allow myself to go easily
breathing so hard I cannot think clearly
I struggle and yet she holds me
barely leaving me a moment to break free

Yet I do not take it
for her faith is what burns me
I fight until I can dare to no longer
and I pray she gives me mercy

I break upon her heart
and I succumb to her strength
I fall beneath her passion
she wins against all my effort to prevail

Yet she saves me
as I breathe the last moment of my life
I fall deeply into darkness
and her lips touch my body gently

I am the fallen
yet I am saved by someone who is my better
She is my partner
The women who dares to love me

She is the one who wins this fight
as her heart burns so very bright
This woman who dares to love me
is simply the only one who I can see

A Wanderer on the Map of Creation

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts, Inquisitive, Spiritual

Well gee, I usually don’t post directly to a blog…but what the hell. I’m bored tonight and my friends just left after having a little get together and now I’m sipping my cup of patiently brewed coffee and wondering about all the good things in life.

A Wanderer on the Map of Creation

I stand here
Comically laughing at who I am
Asking myself one more time to describe myself
and looking at the things I could be compared
I do not know if I am white or black
But I feel so many colors in the passion coarsing through me
that my lips quiver with a tongue yearning to share who I am
Yet I am just at a point in my life
A single miniscule point that is so hard to properly quantify
and everything in me tells me where I am today will move
Sometimes quickly, yet sometimes slow
and yet I will always know I was here

I am
Somewhat funny
and even personable
My friends say I am wonderful
and my voice often agrees
Yet I am not perfect
I have dreams
and a chaotic imagination
I can see a world alone
and I can see myself near you
My hands are strong
yet they sometimes fumble

I am
Never perfect
No I have flaws aplenty
that I sometimes hide
Yet my pride is not that defiant
and I can often question myself
But what you know is barely me
As I see deep within a heart that makes me breathe
Oh yes, I am not perfect
Yet I can sing like an angel
Sometimes quietly and sometimes like a siren
and my mind can lose itself so often

I am
A romantic
I believe in holding ground that very few believe
My heart is so very courageous
and forces my spirit to stand with or against
No I am not weak
I lived even when my body said I should no longer cry
even as I looked upon what I thought was my last moonlit sky
I can only regret that which I did not defy
and when I am resting I’ll probably ask myself why
Oh yes, my words are  something that are truly complete
and when I feel myself wandering, I just ask that we meet

I am
Simply me
Someone who believes myself to be greater than right here and now
My hope is simply a fuel to desire something more
and for this tragic yet wanting fire I will simply burn
Yet I will not release myself from this dream
Oh god no, I will never run from a vision only I can have
As I will stare back into a mirror of my own design
and discover a way to share this thing to a beautiful refine

I am
The wanderer
I seek that which makes me not complete
but gives me a method of stating the way I define myself
My will forever forces me to a spot outside my soul
Searching the night sky, reaching to the heavens above
and for my sinful greed I will one day find what I need
I will define myself by the words I have learned in life
My greatest challenge will not be finding what I am
But simply discovering exactly what I can be

I am
Not alone
I am simply finding myself
So that one day I may be closer to you