Dreaming of the Search
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Romantic
This was not about experiencing the unremarkable days,
But about the amazing moments of absolute bliss
and the sudden flashes of daunting challenges
It was about that day you said “I love you”
when I knew you cared for me more than anyone,
and the simple feeling of your heart pressed against mine.
This was not about anything we had decided,
Just a moment of divine intervention beyond belief
When everything was only defined by “perfect”
I do not know you yet, or perhaps I do.
This heart of feelings trapped inside of my personal searching,
And when I find myself, I know you’ll be there waiting.
The old oak tree
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Creative Writing, Love, Romantic
I whispered her name under my breath, as if I was saying good-bye to a lover who would never realize how I felt. For once in my life I thought about that moment not like I had done before, but finally like I was alive. I could feel so much more than the denial I had carried through my past. While I cared beyond words for her, she would simply turn from me as I quietly said a good-bye she would never understand.
I dared not believe in such trivial thoughts of love. Yet I did. Somewhere within me was a defiant heart that would never back down from my own emotions. They could perhaps define part of me, and they would always inspire me to be something greater than I was. I was just a man, a man with a hope that sat idle in my dreams as I tried to make them reality. My life wasn’t a place I could hope to rationalize, and my heart may never again be brave enough to feel this way twice. For all my faith in love, a tragic flaw in the equation reminded me that I was wonderfully alone. That was how destiny decided to declare love in a true story of heartfelt feeling.
Yet was destiny breaking itself or was it merely defining the path of a romantic locked in purgatory? Hell is not a prison unless you choose it to be.
Two days later the answer to that question, one simple phrase- was detailed by the inquisitive insights of an old man who was writing prose under an old oak tree in the park. I saw him sitting there; he was probably in his mid seventies, dressed in a proper brown suit and an old leather hat. He was sitting on his jacket, slowly scribbling away in a weathered journal that reminded me of my own.
Without asking I sat down next to him against the tree. He paused for a moment and I could tell from his eyes that his thoughts were more meaningful than my own. I thought it was pretty ironic that two romantic souls could choose the same old oak tree.
I took a thermos from my bag, sat two cups in front of me, and slowly poured a cup of coffee for each of us. I looked at him as I smiled and said “I believe that one romantic poet sitting beneath an oak tree is cliche’, but two romantic poets sharing a cup of coffee under an old oak tree makes us brothers.
He chuckled and took the coffee from my hand. As the aroma of the Irish Creame peaked his interest, he replied “how do you know I’m a romantic?
“No one writes about themselves like that in such a journal. The way you glanced at the clouds, the way you hold the pages in your hands, even the way you sat there gazing at each letter as it formed a word in your mind defined you as a lover. I don’t know if you only love the words you write or if you love the subject that lives on the page, but whatever it is: I can tell you that your heart cares for every phrase as you read it.
I paused, took a sip of my coffee, and added “besides, any man who takes the time to write with such love in his thoughts is most definitely a romantic. Any romantic, by mere necessity, deserves a cup of hot coffee to remind themselves of the flavours we experience in life.”
Young man, you are quite right. I am a romantic. I was writing about my wife, god bless her
I could tell by the way his words came with yearning, that his wife, the love of his heart, was gone from this life. Yet he was just like me, the love he felt for a woman was still with him, long after destiny had changed the way we found ourselves wandering through life.
He looked at me and chuckled again- “You know its easier if you let yourself fall all the way. You can’t fly forever; eventually one day you realize that you’ve lost your wings.”
I pondered for a moment as the sharp taste in my mouth reminded me of why I was there. “You know sir, I can admit to falling. I can also admit to never flying again. Yet I can’t say that I ever figured out which came first. I think that falling is how I learned how to fly. Without loving, without the dreams I shared, I would never have known that right now I am on the ground.”
“Two poets abused, is that what we are?” he inquired as he sipped from his cup.
“No, we are two men who choose how to fly, knowing that while we may sit here beneath a tree, writing in our journals of meandering thoughts- that we may inspire someone to fall in love again. It is our words sir, that define how perfectly human we are.”
He laughed “Are we human? I would sometimes argue that with my wife.”
“I think we are. I think my heart is. I care to live fully; to feel my life. Should I fall, again and again, I will gladly suffer the consequences of my actions. I will hold myself to a dream of living alone if need be, because in my own way, to the way that I can love- I will never be alone.”
“Son, you sound too much like me when I was younger.”
“Sir, perhaps both of us just accept how we live. You can’t dream without feeling’, and the testament of us sitting here and sharing our thoughts only gives me the hope that forty years from now, I sit down under an old oak tree and find myself talking with some young man who is inspired by how I lived my life, or the fact that I still love the woman who destiny took out of my life. I can only hope sir, that I find someone who inspires my heart like your wife did for you, so that I can one day lend that inspiration to someone like me.”
“Son, why do you think what I write is so inspirational?”
“I apologize sir. I’m younger than you, when I walked by I heard you mutter a phrase under your breath as you finished the page before I sat down.”
“You heard that?” He was perplexed by the ability of youthful ears.
“Yes sir.” I said with a smile. “Anyone who has the urge to say ‘I love you’ as he writes it- is definitely someone who understands what the feeling is all about.”
In a dream
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts, Romantic
I dreamdt with slow tangible thoughts
taking each breath with desire,
the smell, the fragrant hope of passion,
as your eyes look into me,
and as I lovingly surrender to what I feel.
My mind, every simple simple thought,
is perfectly ignored, as I can only focus on you.
The way you make me live, the way you make me feel,
the peace that you give my soul,
and the ache I felt when you are not in my arms.
If I could think clearly, with just a moment of thought,
perhaps I would realize exactly what you mean to me.
One would think that I may see flaws,
or that I am not good enough for you,
and that for some reason, we will never know.
Yet every time I try, I lose myself in romantic appreciation
wondering if roses or chocolates would be more appropriate,
or if I will comically accept that I’ll probably do both.
I think without thinking- with you it comes so naturally,
to be someone good enough that deserves someone so amazing.
In this dream, my eyes tell me I’m not sleeping.
I pinch myself and am happy to feel it, and yet,
I do not know how my life became a dream.
What is in my life, what is so perfect I must be dreaming?
and my only answer, is you.
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
Her Name
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Romantic
Her name,
I wish that I knew her name
She was beautiful
With a friendly smile
And a laugh that made me feel
Yet when I heard her voice
My words became silent
So quiet that I wondered
Why my heart hesitated
And I was left with pause
‘Without doubt’ I thought
Would I ask her name
Yet I would not realize my delay
As the blinking action of my eye
Allowed her to vanish into night
I couldn’t have said it better
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dedicated Poems, Love, Romantic
I said three words.
Simply and complete.
The look on your eyes,
was expressive of your soul.
The feeling in your heart,
told me the desire of your dreams.
Yet when you looked into me,
our lips touching anything but our breathing
and asked,
“Do you love me?”
I failed to hesitate,
lost the control I never had,
and said
‘Without a doubt”
Runaway Tear
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Loss, Romantic
I tried to stand tall, yet I faltered
My spirit gave way to impatient footsteps
And my body, strong and secure
Became a ragged casualty of love
It was something in me,
Some called it a lack of faith
A belief in myself, perhaps not knowing why
Or simply questioning who I was
On one side, I remember seeing my family
A brilliant audience that often helped me choose
Some were people I cared about, a few strangers
And a select group of friends I defined as my real family
But I was alone, shaking in hesitation
Fearful that I held someone’s life in my hand
And I didn’t know if I was right or wrong
I couldn’t breathe, let alone see my own future
Happiness, deceit
Love or obsession
My world was simply defined by two words
Basic ideas that failed to save my sanity
Feeling a tear in my eye as I thought “Yes”
Breaking away from the facade that I wore
As it rolled down my face,
I said only one word, “No”
I saw the love of my life in my own two hands
Everything I had wanted in front of me
Seconds away from finding my reason for living
And yet it vanished behind my back as I ran
No one said a word, the universe was silent for them
Yet it screamed heartbreak for my soul
And my love, simply left standing alone
On the altar we had built together
The Dreaming Heart
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts, Love, Romantic
I told you
about that dream I had
Where you were laying
next to me
breathing heavy
I whispered
my thoughts
About the dreams I had
that were simple
and definately crazy
I spoke
under my breath
as my chest fell
and then rose again
with your head on my heart
My voice
was barely audible
a modest and feint echo
carrying so far into your soul
that it came back to me in feeling
My thoughts
were apparently random
but you could tell
as did I
that they could never be more true
My most lucid dreaming became reality
the way my fingers touched your back
and the pause of my heart
as each beat defined another word
and honestly told everything I imagined
But you knew
that without simple words
such as these
that I could never let you know
I love you
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