When a world ends
Posted by Barry Hurd in Blog, Loss, Love
As I have witnessed
stars falling from heaven
blazing in the night sky,
I fail to see
the grass beneath my feet
or the whispers of the end.
I do not question
no, I do not ask this regret
to hold my heart safe.
I merely embrace a life,
not my own, or of my choosing
that will be my companion in the end.
I cannot see,
nor can I ask for foregiveness,
as this world fades into my memory.
Drowning The Memory
Posted by Barry Hurd in Blog, Loss, Love
Beyond a moment, when I thought I was gone.
When the last breath escaped my lips
and I my eyes closed,
my world slipped,
thinking of you.
.
Beyond that moment,
when I found myself
holding a dream,
just one thought,
of knowing.
.
When I awoke,
gasping for life almost lost,
I came to find myself in reality,
knowing I could dream this thing,
of feeling without breathing.
The eloquent heart of a fool
Posted by Barry Hurd in Blog, Love
Should I be so articulate,
to know that which few hearts know.
To be expressive in adoration,
or fearful of vocalizing my appreciation.
If I would not be the mind frozen in this enthrallment,
the words of my feeling would never come to conclusion.
Yet my compulsive need to witness your grace echoes within me,
knowing that I am the fool, ranting of this thing called love.
Everything has changed
Posted by Barry Hurd in Blog, Loss, Love
Morning
The bright light piercing my slumber
warming my face
I breathe
Holding steady. Calm. Relaxed.
My hand
finding truth
in the absence of your touch.
I breathe
Holding steady. Hoping. Needing.
My eyes open
to the realization of missing you,
searching for your presence.
I breathe
Holding steady. Pondering. Wanting.
The promise of life
entitled only within my dreams,
as I search for my reason.
I breathe
Holding steady. Ready. Waiting.
The Valentine Heart
Posted by Barry Hurd in Author's Favorites, Coffee - Volume Two, Love, Romantic
I won a bottle of wine for having a wee bit of knowledge about the origin and meaning surrounding the word Valentine. I guess being able to answer a few multiple choice questions about an interesting day is worth a bottle of wine for a poet.
Here is a recap of some writing I did a few years ago, along with a new poem:
A history of Valentine.
While Valentine’s day is a marketing woe for modern society, it has a wonderful history that is colored in myth and legend. Everything from the bow of Cupid to the down fall of European nations.
A good portion of historical reference lead us to St. Valentine, a third-century priest who had a reputation for performing marriage ceremonies that had been banned by the Roman emperor. Valentine was thrown into jail, who as legends go, formed a relationship with the jailor’s daughter and he wrote his last message to her “From your Valentine” a phrase which would persists through-out a thousand years. St Valentine found his death on February 14th, in the year 270, and his remains and some of his writings are displayed in Dublin at Carmelite Church.
A thousand years later- Charles, the duke of Orleans, wrote a valentine to his with while imprisoned in the Tower of London. Aside from the origin of St Valentine, the letter is on display at the British Library as the first recorded valentine in 1415.
Years later, regardless of the origin or how many have been sent, Valentine’s day still lives on as we all embrace a moment of personal recollection, hope, love, and faithful spirit to the people we embrace.
The Valentine Heart
This prison,
The place I am locked into
By feverish want,
And things I could not let go.
This is a place of recollection,
The harbinger of reality,
Where reality and dreams reside,
Trying to live within each other.
I want to look outside
yet the walls are solid,
And my sight is obscured,
By images left unseen.
Each day, every minute
Of every hour,
I beg for mercy,
From a soul who made this dream.
My only possession,
The wanting hope,
Of finding my release,
As I give the truest of myself.
A kind warden has graced me,
With an elegant quill
to write my thoughts,
Upon this parchment of my soul.
When my feelings become words,
My heart finds escape,
it finds itself free and elated,
as it ventures amongst the heavens.
If this day, dear saint,
Can release me from this cell,
Where my hope dwells,
And my heart finds your embrace.
The Truth of Love
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Love
Falling in love does not have a reason, it has a purpose.
Love is not passive, love is daring.
Love is watching your life fade to black.
Love is about resurrecting yourself with one thought.
Love is knowing that you took your last breath stepping in front of a train for them.
Love is not hateful, nor hurtful.
Love is persistent, meaningful, caring.
Love is holding them tightly, without hesitation or delay.
Love is about knowing when you must find strength in letting them go.
Love is hard.
Love is peaceful, healing, nurturing.
Love is offering your hand and your soul, to believe.
Love is daring yourself, when you don’t know what parts to share.
Tessa’s Memory
Posted by Barry Hurd in Author's Favorites, Coffee - Volume Two, Love
Like most souls, there are many things that I take for granted.
One thing I gave thanks for was my daughter. As short lived as her life was, it was epic. Her life defined my life, colored the rainbow I saw in the sky, and helped me to dream again. She made me a better father, lover, and man. She helped me to question everything I ever needed or even wanted. Her spirit made sure that I would never take anyone for granted. Her dreams are fueled by every breath I take.
Tessa’s Memory
Other fathers said they loved,
but my daughter I cherished,
and while I knew only seconds,
I learned to fly.
From the moon and back,
I would find myself reaching,
trying to hold my dream
of her eyes in the night sky.
What lies between us,
is nothing compared to this feeling,
the tiny matter of needing,
a memory for which I would die.
The wind, my subtle care no more
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Featured, Love, Romantic
Sweet dreams, reminiscent of a fall day.
Do you hear, as I do, how things are so beautiful?
Hearing voices of tumbling leaves, chaotic ramblings.
or do you fail to listen, to hope, to such silent whispers?
In my mind, I hear no silence, just motion around my life.
Together I would have thought, that this was perfect.
Everyone cares, not as much as I, for you, beside my side.
Yet I know, that my arms are left empty, quietly so.
My heart holds itself against hopeful dreaming, quietly waiting.
It is another day, alone and unwanted, remembering.
Trusting in how I believe, in how I care, knowing.
That my soul finds itself patiently listening to the wind.
One moment, with purpose.
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Love, Romantic
I once knew someone; a soul who perfectly illuminated my life.
They were not figment or illusion, but tangible and real.
A perfect spirit who made me feel, too much sometimes, so deeply.
For some time I could not remember, how I could believe, in something…
the kind of thing you cannot see, yet seemingly sets you free.
Yet I find myself asking, trying to find meaning in what I need.
So I ask, finding myself feeding upon the memory of truth I knew,
What does this subtle hint of dreaming bring to my life for you?
I ask, not as if I can remember, but only to dare be honest once more.
These are not things we are meant to know, or care to discover.
They are the honesty in our heart, the moment of serenity we cherish.
A moment in time, that holds us to care, once more.
If you only knew
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Love, Romantic
I met you briefly, our paths crossed like we had been life-long lovers.
For a moment we both knew it was not a casual interlude.
We were not the kind of people to be in love, or at least admit it.
Yet I found myself musing over how easily I fell.
I could not deny my heart was a place of fantasy and illusion,
the kind of wonderland that few can even imagine.
But your eyes saw everything I was, for just a fraction of my life.
You lifted the veil of social controversy long enough to believe.
The striking smile you gave me, the way you felt my words.
A glance across the table as our friends looked unto themselves.
You would make me think there was no dream, no fantasy,
but I could still hear myself say I love you within each thought.
I would say, again and again, to me this only one love.
The kind of story that could be written into a thousand pages.
A tale of serendipity, of the warmest embrace through subtle touch,
and the cool autumn breeze as destiny chooses different paths.
It would be an epic, of midnight passion and secret rendezvous
Partnered with an ending, the heartfelt tears of saying good-bye.
This was not the fantasy, no, it was the tale of two souls dancing.
It was a chapter of life happening by chance and desire.
I would etch my thoughts to textured paper,
for a hundred generations to see after we are gone.
and you could hopefully understand how I spoke,
with each and every word, with every thought, so heartfelt.
You could perhaps share in my love, again and again, to taste it,
like the sensual flavor of fresh strawberries melting on your tongue.
You would hear my desire as if you shared my thirst for it,
whimsically laying upon the comforting green grass with me in your arms.
You would believe in true love. The kind that declares itself in dream.
The faithful searching of a partner unlike any other.
My pages would become torn and worn, my body tarnished with your experiences,
and would happily know that every letter was written for you.
You would care for me as if we had met in life, a secret love affair,
I would not know who you are or if you knew of my intentions.
So I would leave you, knowing this was written for you,
the beautiful soul, the perfect touch as this fable comes to a close.