To which I am thankful
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dedicated Poems, Friendship
To my friends, the family you help me build,
every single one that has heard my voice,
read my words, shared my hopes and dreams,
or even found themselves somehow sharing this road,
No matter how far, or how little our time is,
I need to tell you something,
I am not perfect, nor do I care to be.
As if anyone can be, it is my truest family,
the friends who I know, and who know me.
I do not shy away from the moments I share,
as they become portions of everything I adore,
giving me memories that I can only be grateful.
I give my thanks to my friends,
the creative souls who inspire me,
and the caring hearts who believe in me.
I hold them near myself, as closely as I can,
knowing it is their very love that gives me strength,
to give them my gratitude, making this world a better place.
I give my thanks to you with heartfelt emotion,
a tear in my eye, and a smile on my face.
Caring enough that you are warm and happy,
peacefully content with this exact moment,
I give my thanks to you, for being who you are,
and for every second we have ever shared.
Sometimes we smell the roses
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dedicated Poems
A blissful arrangement, life collected as if purposely grown.
Perfect artistry, naturally ingenuous, dreamy petals soft as silk.
Distinguished charm, reminiscent scent of vibrant allure.
Color, bold and intoxicating, graceful as a rainbow.
Flowers reach not for the essence of living today,
but for the survival of hope, of lifelong destiny.
fated to grow strong with enduring faith,
as they stretch towards the sun,
Outstretched and thriving.
Waiting for purpose,
of meaningful
emotion.
Lost Friends
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dedicated Poems, Friendship
I wrote a total of thirty pieces this weekend, mostly wandering around the river and talking to friends. It was a good weekend to sit back and relax, listen to the river and the drums, and to remember what life is all about. By saturday night I had nearly lost my voice, but I managed to pull off at least a few melodies for the camp.
To The Troll
Lost friends,
When I was a child,
with a creative heart
full of youthful fantasy
and things you could not see
You were my friend,
The grumpy old troll,
to which I was not scared.
For you made me laugh
and made me believe
in friends like you and me.
As I step, one stride at a time,
I remembered that rhyme
whispered from beneath my feet.
It made me wonder and feel
to know friends could be so real.
So when I grow up without growing old,
I will not forget, you have my word.
Nay regret as I reach the end,
This question I have, I am not scared
Could I afford, my carefree friend,
would you let me cross your bridge again?
The Old Crow
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dedicated Poems, Featured
Sitting above the backroom,
the gray sulfur of indiscretion
billowing beneath my perch.
Voices of sinful conversation,
reaching my ears,
playing amongst my thoughts.
Old crow, black and lost,
Watching through the rain,
wondering if anyone cared.
Peaceful and stubborn,
a life that didn’t have reason,
or even worthwhile consideration.
Old crow, discarded and soiled,
upon the wire that holds no weight
dark water raining from the stars.
Autumn Memories-
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dedicated Poems
Some things are meant to last, forever.
The day you learned to smile with a friend,
an autumn wind as it lifts your spirit.
Some things without reason
Are moments of change and subtle tide
inspiring thoughts that deny the seasons
Some things are perfect
to me they will always remain so beautifully so.
As I am not without memory, just what I know.
Some things, not all
hold me up when I almost fall,
touch me again and again, in every way
Some things, the best of them,
remind me of a day when no one else can say
how you are, so brilliantly perfect
The Dreaming Memory of Clouds
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dedicated Poems, Defiant, Loss, Love
Do not talk of love, not to me my dear heart.
I am not the one who lost itself, or tore down
everything I felt. Could not I choose to feel.
Do not dare, to illicit a response from me,
as I am trying to ignore you standing there,
waiting.
Do not care of me, you who stands in the rain.
Letting that cold air cleanse you,
as the freezing sentiment of solitude keeps my company.
Is this not fair? To hold myself away,
imprisoning my spirit above your defiant abandon,
as I listen to the soulful chatter of my dancing memories,
dreaming.
The Coloring Book
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dedicated Poems
Such peaceful thoughts are strangely whimsical,
knowing that life is not an empty white page
nor does it have boundaries that define everything.
Each line, dotted or whole, leads somewhere.
Touching as if they were spirited children on a playground
and forming something of anyone’s imagination.
Yet white would be the preferred starting color of any masterpiece
eagerly begging to have colour thrown upon it with youthful vigor
or even tossing itself on each part of life like a wandering crayon.
My hands touch the paper, asking if I cannot create something better
and my fingers leave smudges of humourous intention
that only a gleeful heart such as mine can make
If I could detail my life by drawing outside of the lines,
would I begin to draw myself in such an abstract would of joy?
If not now, perhaps when no one else is looking.
Magical Garden
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dedicated Poems, Romantic, Spiritual
One would remember this time of year, not as a time of brilliant imagery
but of lucid memory falling fragrantly into moments of sight
As my eyes would look upon the sun high above, as it touched heaven
and as my eyes looked upon a field of nature’s bloom
I would not be able to detail my vision, my heart’s search
or the way the faint wind beckoned my spirit to wander
Yet I would stop, for a moment as I settled my lucid fantasy
and kneel down to caress the body of a rose so perfect.
I would feel it’s thorns, the silk sensuality of it’s every petal,
my spirit would transcend mere footsteps
and find itself looking into a dreaming lilac.
The blades of inspiration reaching towards the dreaming sky unseen
and after falling back to the earth holding the seeds of a lifetime,
discover that the sunflowers caused karmic resurrection of my childhood.
I should wonder, if a moment of time lost in a place of fantasy,
in a figment filled with a hope only I could know,
be ever transcribed, or gifted to another.
Yet as I left my place of casual destiny, flowers in hand,
would one person know that nothing in my dreams,
compared to the realization of the beauty they possessed?
Dreaming in the park
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dedicated Poems, Love, Romantic
There was a moment,
when I was younger.
A second that I remember
as if it was right now.
I was laying in a park
in a lush green field,
surrounded by daisies.
My eyes were closed,
yet I was so sure that I wasn’t alone.
Having been perfectly lost
in daylight dreaming.
I was pondering the feeling
of being me,
living my life as I needed to be
I could hear the gentle breeze,
the way it flowed over the grass
and danced across my face.
Yet I was not alone,
finding someone special
was easy in my fantasy
No, in my dreams
My heart was never by itself.
Yet I wonder,
as the footsteps approach
and I hear a sigh of relief near me,
as IÂ feel a hand in my own,
that is passionate and strong;
do I disbelieve in everything I need?
As fingers slowly move across the back of my hand
caressing the sensation of my vulnerability,
my eyes still closed.
I think for a moment,
briefly falling prey to my hopeful nature
as her lips find mine
and I know, that someone
without rhyme or reason
loves me
Do You Remember?
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dedicated Poems, Friendship, Spiritual
Last year when I was gone
It hurt, to hear the wind sing
the end of summer, the nights so long
To see a day of giving end so wrong
When you reach, to never again hold my hand
Yet I have yet to go, as my heart can’t stay
as my soul is lost in figment, in every way
Remember me, I wonder
Can I dare to believe in trying to stand
Is it too hard to say, with one breath
Too fare gone to hold myself from the edge
Yet in summer’s end, no more words to send
Closed thoughts, such an abrupt end
A moment of truth, a heartfelt pledge
I remember, yet I say good-bye with a smile
and as the time goes by, I lose a friend
Day by day I realize, its been awhile
To see a sunset, one that coloured my world
I wonder, does the sunlight erase my thought
to try and forget, a dream I could never afford
accepting my passion had become so distraught
Through good times, and through bad
the sad times, with everything misunderstood
The gifts that we gave,
The mistakes that we made
Can one remember, with a peaceful hope
What friendship means,
Does one remember?
The simple feeling of spring