Subtle Dancing

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume One, Creative Writing, Lust

Subtle Dancing

Cool air moving across the room, shadows mixing and touching across the dance floor. Vibrations pulsing through the wind as the beat of the music drives you deaf. You stop hearing the music and start feeling it, nothing feels better than to close your eyes and move.

You toss your head back; running your fingers through your hair and you feel the pressure of someone against you. Those aren’t your fingers anymore, no that scent isn’t yours either. You think “hello dangerous lady”; but don’t say a word. She couldn’t hear you even if you did.

If for no other reason you dance. She’s beautiful and uses her body like a weapon. She is dressed to kill and she smiles knowing it’s a wonderful game of cat and mouse. You both lose track of who plays what role- the music is loud and doesn’t let you stop. You touch and hold, press and release. You find your lips saying hello, laughing as the game plays on.

One song, then two, then three… apparently both of you are enjoying the moment and you don’t realize you’ve been on the dance floor so long. The song comes to and end, the beat drops to a slow passionate mood and you dance slow. Finally having a chance to hear the words you’ve both been saying under the roar of the music.

Her name is still unknown. You simply say hello.

Jigsaw

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume One, Friendship, Loss

A missing friend.

Segments of life absent.

Fragmented spirit within.

Pieces of living barely fitting.

Joined by remembrance and desire.

Wanting to be whole.

Never living within themselves.

Feeling abrasion of touching others.

Peaceful wanting haunting the dreaming.

No feeling of being together.

Painful knowledge of being disjointed.

Never wanting nothing more than being one.

Seeing distance within touching.

Breathing space yet never true embrace.

Hearing echoes of distant emotions.

Falling into the void of subtle placing.

Knowing life was purposely designed ironic.

Trying to believe in purpose never being.

Soulful pictures trying to elude vision.

Always purposely cut away from friends

Seeking touching, simply to be one.

Was that a kiss?

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume One, Love, Romantic

This one was written because I got caught writing about romance in the Sunset last night and I thought there was something worth writing about. It started out as a section of the above poem, but then became something itself – more aligned to the idea of what a real kiss embodies.

Was that a kiss?

What passion can be felt in brushing your cheek

Dreams are not gone when my eyes are closed

What thoughts I remember as I feel the pause in your breathing

Dreams are so real when I know you are there

What emotion can be created by a simple fragrance

Dreams are vivid when I feel you so close

What fire can be given to a thought so small

Dreams are beyond description when our lips touch

What can I tell you of that day we said hello

Dreams are not forgotten when we said good-bye

Soul fire

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume One, Loss, Love, Lust, Romantic

This burning feeling

A hatred searing my skin

It burns me

I burn myself

Can I not be happy within

Is this damnation I give

Or is this feeling I cannot live

I lust for the calming

I want nothing more than my peace

Can I never hear my thoughts

My mind so rash I scream within

Please let these thoughts relent

I cannot give myself this calm

For I have never forgiven this doubt

I am not to blame yet I hate this game

When will I forgive myself

Forgotten

Posted by Barry Hurd in Author's Favorites, Coffee - Volume One, Creative Writing, Daily thoughts

I never thought this blood would come off. I tried but failed. I saw your face so motionless that it crept into my soul. You were so young. So pretty. You looked like you should be laughing with friends or running like the wind. Why did you do it? Why? Couldn’t you keep it together just one more day? Someone would have cared. Someone. Anyone. I cared. You didn’t even know me. I cared so much that I begged you to come back. I didn’t even know your name. Why did you let go? I’m sorry this world blinded you. I’m sorry this world was blinded by you. You deserved to be seen. Everyone does. You deserve so much more than to lay here by yourself cold and alone. You were never alone. You were never alone. 

Surviving

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume One, Creative Writing, Spiritual

On my knees? That’s where you think I deserve to be? You’ve got a lot of nerve for someone who took so much from me. You can take my family and you can destroy my life, but I’ll never believe that you are anything good. I’ll grind my teeth, push myself till my bones break, and fight until my blood stains the grass red. I won’t quit. Never. I won’t quit because you can’t make me. This fight is something you can’t win. You’ll have to kill me to make me quit. You can make every second of every minute filled with pain, but it’s not going to break me. It’s going to push me to succeed. I’m going to ride the fury you gave me until I see eye to eye with you and then I’m going to show you that no one is god. You have to beat me into the ground until I’m gone forever because every time I get up the only words escaping my lips will be “I survived”.

Lucid Dreaming

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume One, Inquisitive, Regret

Nothing could simply be more forgiving than the damning feelings of quickly feeling that subtle want of loving taste.

 

Life pulsing slowly, saying soothing words that are simply nothing more than whispering memories of fading desire.

 

Dream now my love as I never say these words to your ear as I am but a silent glimmer in this wanting figment.

 

Here is my loss, of giving my wanting love to dreams I can never have while restlessly trying to believe.

 

Forgive me now as shallow words of soothing living are heartfelt pains of never knowing.

 

I am gone before your arms can touch these dreams of forgotten memories.

Forgetting The Rose

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

Tis not possible to define love, nor can it be forgotten.

 

Within passion and envy, it is always held cherished

 

Not within a poet’s mind does it live, merely remembered

 

For it is not within reason, yet warmly within the heart

 

It cannot be contained by phrase, only written in prose

 

Like a rose it holds beauty, yet danger to those it holds

Creative writing about a friend

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume One, Creative Writing, Daily thoughts, Friendship, Spiritual

I found a kindred spirit. Apparently covered in ash, merely keeping an ember burning while the wind of life attempted to wash the vibrancy of it’s flame from the world. It was quiet yet enticing. Few would have dreamt the subtle glow slowly fading into dream could again breath. Few could have realized such passion could exist in a spark of life that many didn’t even acknowledge. 

 But life, like all dreams – is something that possesses both passion and desire. The smallest of which gives us the power to find ourselves. It gives us the chance to breathe each day and explore the world as we see it. More importantly it gives us the ability to see the figments of life that were originally pieces of our dream, yet now they exist in life because of our own heartfelt desire.

 In this kindred spirit I have found such a piece of life. I see within a single ember a brilliant blazing glory, a fire that leaves my meager heart in awe, a passion for life that wants to consume everything before it. This untamed vibrancy could change the face of the world and everyone who sees it if only they took a moment to care.

 As for now, it is an ember. Covered in ash. Unnoticed by so many.

 How are so many flames left uncared for?

Conversational Razor

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

This razor sharp against my soul

Breaking my spirit like no one knows

Can they hear the tears inside

Would they care if I confide

Cowardly testing this family of kin

Do they know I’ve lost my mind

Could they believe in how I bleed

Fearful of knowing or what I may find

Are these thoughts beneath my skin

Truthful speaking perhaps I need

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