The Poetry Marathon

To my sweet Wilmington, N.C. I miss the cobblestone streets and The long days on the beach, from all the home brews and delicious places to eat. It’s where I found myself and I hold that dearly to my heart, you’ll always be my home away from home. Take me down to Cape Fear where the art and music never ceases to amaze,

Take me to that A frame deep inside the luscious green forest, where the river and the wild meet, nature is all the music you need, completely secluded from society is where I want to be.

Break the chains

build the bond

burn it down

start a new plot to plant

be the foundation for the forest to grow

do whatever it takes to soothe the soul

pick the piece that speaks peace to you

He played on the moon wondering if he would ever come back home, every night there was another gig on another constellation of stars, he was a star himself, blasting off for all to see, he questioned himself, how can this even be me. This is what you get when you sacrifice for your dreams.

Lonely days and wasted nights

still wishing you were by my side

and honey there ain’t no reason why

you can’t be with me

So come along and take my hand

and with this kiss, I’ll help you understand

what it is for a man to love a woman

So come along and let me hold you tight

and together my darling, we can make it through the night.

Wildflowers in her hair

she lives her life without a care

For her, I’d hang the moon

Instead she would rather it be set free

So I can sing her lullabies and poems by the sea.

Echoes from yesterday’s past whisper wisdom in my ear, for all that I’ve lost and gained the only thing I rid myself of is the fear.

I want to lay with you on a hand stitched quilt on an open field full of sunflowers. My Darling Dear like the flower this too is our finest hour, and although we too will someday wither and fade, but my darling dear, my love, No not today, No not today.

A quiver full of arrows, she shot me through the heart, now I’m in love, caught up in the moment, and I don’t know where to start.

From pen to paper, from the heart to the soul, singing the blues on an old dirt road. I want to whisper sweet nothings on a cliff overlooking the rivers of old.