Back again

I always thought I hated you
couldn't wait to get away
no matter how far I went

Only to find myself here, back again,
under your grey wet sky
but this time
all I want to do is sit
on my deck, my feet up on the table
and watch the rain fall

I can't honesty say I missed you
not all of you
but the weather here was never the same
anywhere else I went
and I always missed your grey skies
and cool air.

Lightflower

Show me where
the nightflower blooms
that I may touch the nectar
and fill my pen once more
with first light.

---

Just a quick poem I put on my "Free Text" window on LiveJournal.
First Light being a reference to the first poetry collection I ever tried to put together.

Using Your Voice

I heard your voice
a deep rumble of a baritone that took me by surprise.
Only here, for I am not brave, will I confess
I'm using it, using your words for inspiration.

Here, where I am still somewhat
safe from embarrassment I can be honest.

You'll never read this.
Quite frankly if you did, I'd most likely be too surprised
to be ashamed
about my confessions.

For a few minutes.
Then the blood would rise
to my face, like it is right now just with imagining it.

But for now, there is safety here.
I can confess that your voice
makes my hands twitch.
Surely you've felt it too
from time to time, though
I doubt you've ever neglected your writing as long as I have.

But perhaps you will understand.
One doesn't turn away inspiration, no matter what the source.

So I will use your voice
as it helps me open the box I thought long lost and buried.
And I think, perhaps you
really wouldn't be offended.