Found on a piece of paper dated 2008. I suspect it was a Jackson/Triggs moment :-)
When without a direction
Your dreams know the way
If not finding your voice
The heart knows what to say
When this day is done
So begins another one
Now embroiled in sadness
Tomorrow might be fun
Around in circles
Around and around
Start looking for things
You should have already found
When no new dreams fill your sleep
Is your mind at ease
Then finding a safe harbour
From memories you needn't keep
Too far ahead or too far behind
The knots need to be tight
Or else everything unwinds
Making plans then making do
Just picture puzzles
Of me and you
Friday, 18 January 2013
Thursday, 17 January 2013
Untitled
This one bombed from the opening line. Some times you just stink plain and simple. But it's okay to save them because poems are like days of the week. Some days you can do no wrong and other days....it's like pulling teeth!!
If I were a flower and you were a bee
You could buzz all around
But always land firmly on me
If you were the sun and I was the moon
We would defy mother nature
From July until June
If you were rich and I was poor
You could give me so much
Yet I would give you more
If you were wisdom and I was time
In between the miles endless
Still the loving ties that bind
If I was calm and you were the edge
We could meet in the middle
And feel safe on the ledge
If I was beer and you were wine
Like oil and water
Yet there is a love we find
From emotions and words
Two hearts would rhyme
If I was a writer and you were ink
Joining hearts and hands
Then everything in sync
If I was reality and you were a dream
I would sleep forever
Then everything as it seems
If I could see your dreams
I could make them real
When two become one
It becomes part of the deal
If I could hear your words
I would hear promises spoken
Still all I feel
Are the promises broken
If I were a flower and you were a bee
You could buzz all around
But always land firmly on me
If you were the sun and I was the moon
We would defy mother nature
From July until June
If you were rich and I was poor
You could give me so much
Yet I would give you more
If you were wisdom and I was time
In between the miles endless
Still the loving ties that bind
If I was calm and you were the edge
We could meet in the middle
And feel safe on the ledge
If I was beer and you were wine
Like oil and water
Yet there is a love we find
From emotions and words
Two hearts would rhyme
If I was a writer and you were ink
Joining hearts and hands
Then everything in sync
If I was reality and you were a dream
I would sleep forever
Then everything as it seems
If I could see your dreams
I could make them real
When two become one
It becomes part of the deal
If I could hear your words
I would hear promises spoken
Still all I feel
Are the promises broken
Wednesday, 2 January 2013
Sharing a Precious Star
Somewhere there is one candle burning
Just one until it is shared
The grief will remain with us for a time
To be left with only memories
Yet memories can never be extinguished
A sudden binding of ties where there was none
A celebration of life for just one
Believing we will reap what we sow
Then helpless for whatever we can't know
Precious like a falling star
We each have our own but now sharing
When sorrow is a prerequisite for healing
Who among us is not ever in need
Stepping off the side walk and in stride
With hands holding on tight
And if only briefly
Bound by what no heart can endure
One loss can bind all of us as one
An emotion has it's own place and time
But what to do when emotions cascade
An irony when one loss can unite all
What to do when a memory never fades
Just one until it is shared
The grief will remain with us for a time
To be left with only memories
Yet memories can never be extinguished
A sudden binding of ties where there was none
A celebration of life for just one
Believing we will reap what we sow
Then helpless for whatever we can't know
Precious like a falling star
We each have our own but now sharing
When sorrow is a prerequisite for healing
Who among us is not ever in need
Stepping off the side walk and in stride
With hands holding on tight
And if only briefly
Bound by what no heart can endure
One loss can bind all of us as one
An emotion has it's own place and time
But what to do when emotions cascade
An irony when one loss can unite all
What to do when a memory never fades
Wednesday, 12 December 2012
A Lifetime Love Affair
"I love you Robert Mitchell and I always will." Her eyes gazed upon him with such a certainty felt only from the purest of innocence that surely defined true love. Nothing else mattered and nothing was more important than that summer afternoon looking into the eyes of the one she would one day marry and love until the day she died. "I love you too Lea Ann Mason." There was a nervousness in his voice but his words were truthful. She was beautiful and he did love her. Robert was uncertain as to what the future would bring but he did not want this moment to end. On a sunny August afternoon in a meadow next to the ravine, an eleven year old boy and a ten year old girl professed their undying love for one another.
Robert sat in the chair flipping through the same magazines he had read many times before. He also felt like he was intimately familiar with this particular chair having spent many, many hours sitting and waiting. Today the wait would be over and it was not the ending he had hoped for when his otherwise wonderful world had turned to a nightmare. Throughout the morning people had come and gone from the room which was now empty except for him. Robert was grateful for this as more than anything on this morning he desired to be alone. “Alone”, He thought to himself. It was a concept he was going to have to become accustomed to. It had been almost a year to the day since Robert had taken a leave of absence from his teaching position at the University of Western Ontario where he had taught political science for twenty eight years. An accomplished writer in the field of politics, he had also written seven books of varying topics dealing with government legalities, foreign policy, economic infrastructure as well as culture change in the computer era. He also once served as a foreign policy advisor for a past Prime Minister. In addition to the leave of absence, Robert had also cancelled all speaking engagements and book signings due to this more urgent and pressing matter. As he waited patiently and with a heavy heart for the moment he wished would never come, he looked out the window and stared at nothing as the world continued on its way. Soon his mind began to wonder back to happier times.
“Which is your favourite painting Robert?” The question had come from Lea Ann best friend, Mary. Shortly after buying their first home together Lea Ann had met Mary who owned a beauty salon. The two were inseparable ever since. Robert had also become friends with Mary’s husband, Greg who was a police officer. When Robert was hired to do a study for a Conservative Think Tank on crime and rehabilitation, he talked to Greg extensively for guidance in understanding police policy and how such things would affect the statistics. The two couples had become quite close over the years and now, when Robert needed support during these times, Mary and Greg were always there for him. “To be honest Mary, my favourite picture is the one she painted of a watermelon. Her brush strokes seem to capture the texture perfectly and the bright colours had me envisioning the happiness and joy of sinking my teeth into a ripe and juicy watermelon” Robert replied. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his upper left arm. “Ouch”, he cried out with a big grin on his face as Lea Ann pulled back her hand that had just punched him. “You’re an ass hole Robert! You know damn well I have never painted any watermelons!” The four of them enjoyed a laugh or two until Lea Ann was called away by the gallery owner to speak with a potential customer interested in one Lea Ann’s paintings. Greg was admiring a painting leaving Mary and Robert alone for a minute. “She really is so talented”. “Yes she is!” said Robert. “I hope she does well tonight”. Robert was extremely proud of his wife and her talent. In fact, he had secretly purchased one of her paintings that night and had planned to donate it to the University library. Lea Ann sold a total of five paintings that night for a tidy sum of money. She didn’t care about the money as she was just thrilled that the event was a success and that people liked her paintings. They decided to walk for a bit downtown after the showing was over. Lea Ann had her hands wrapped around Robert’s arm as they enjoyed a midnight walk on a beautiful summer night. “I am so happy for you sweetheart” Robert said to her. “Thank you dear”. Lea Ann leaned in and kissed her husband on the cheek as they continued their walk. Even after dating for so long and even after thirty nine years of marriage, Robert was still nervous and he felt awkward about affection with his wife. Yet he loved moments like these. He never understood what this beautiful and creative woman saw in a stuffy, stiff-lipped Political Science Teacher but was thankful to have her in his life. “What a beautiful night” said Lea Ann looking at Robert and smiling. “Every night is a beautiful night with you” Robert said. He instantly thought that it was a ridiculous thing to say and felt silly. But his wife’s head on his shoulder told him it was the perfect words to say. “You know Mr. Mitchell, with your writing skills, you should write a novel.” “You want me to write a fictional novel?” Robert asked curiously. “What about a love story? You could write a fictional love story based on us!” quipped Lea Ann. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t know where to start or how to write such a thing. You know I’m not good expressing my feelings” Robert came back with. Once again Lea Ann smiled at him. “You are man of few words that is true. But your words are always genuine. I can tell by your body language, your mood, and the look on your face exactly what you are thinking. Sometimes what you don’t say tells me everything I need and want to hear. If you could find a way to make the reader feel what I feel it would definitely be a story worth reading!” Robert thought on his wife’s musings for a bit before saying “I have it! I can call it a Lifetime Love Affair. Since it would take me my whole life to write it you would have stay married to me forever” he told her. They both laughed and then Lea Ann said something that Robert never forgot. “I fell in love with you that day in the meadow and I have loved you ever since. If you need a lifetime to write our love story than I believe you will have all the time in the world” As Robert began retracing his steps his thoughts were fixed on his wife’s words of that night, then he thought about this day and what would come to pass in just a few hours. “Just like every fictional novel every real love story also has to end” he thought to himself.
Robert stood there alone staring at was once his world and reason for living. All was quite except for his soft whispers and the steady humming and beeping sounds of the various complex machines located around the room. Even as he looked down at his wife’s broken body he only saw the beautiful woman he married thirty nine years ago. The cancer had spread quickly and within a year this once vibrant and energetic woman had been reduced to a scrawny ninety pounds. Robert was thankful that the doctors were able to make her comfortable and that her final days were relatively pain free. They had never said goodbye to each other. They made a promise that they never would. With a trembling hand, Robert slowly stretched out his hand to push a button that would shut down the machine keeping his wife alive. All of the paperwork had been filled out, signed and filed according to his wife’s wishes. The funeral arrangements had been prepared in advance. Everything was set and all Robert had to do was push that button and two lives would come to an end. He hesitated as if waiting on an eleventh hour miracle that he knew would never come. He heard the clicking sound of a machine shutting down, and a once beautiful voice becoming silenced forever. It was over. Robert took a thick stack of papers out of a bag he had been carrying around all day. He placed it on the bed next to Lea Ann and moved her hand over to rest on the papers. “I love you Lea Ann.” He then walked out of the room and down the hallway without saying a word. Nurse Gina just touched his arm lightly as he walked by but no words were spoken. No more words were needed. As Robert passed the waiting room where he had spent so many of his days and nights since getting the news of his wife’s illness he stopped and just stared into the empty room. Then he went home.
Greg was on patrol that night when the call came in. He though he had frozen when the dispatcher gave him the address but soon realized he was parked at the home of his old friend. The flashing lights from the police cruisers and ambulance lit the entire neighbourhood. Hoards of people stood on their front porches waiting for a glimpse of something terrible. He entered the house and immediately heard the sounds of the opera. He thought this strange as he knew Robert detested opera. Walking into the den Greg stopped in disbelief. On the floor was a small box the Robert had kept a hand gun in for safety. He recognized the gun still on the floor as the one he gave Robert some years ago. Robert was still sitting in his favourite chair with fresh blood that covered the right side of his face. He also noticed a few wet areas on the rug that he presumed came from a glass that had fallen and broken into pieces. Greg knew instantly what had happened and why. His long-time friend Robert Mitchell had taken his own life. Yet something on the end table caught his attention as he leaned in for a closer look. Suddenly there was silence. “Hey”, he snapped at a rookie officer. “Why did you turn off the music?” The young officer answered nervously. “I just thought it would be better to turn it off.” “Turned that music back on now” Greg snapped back again. He again turned his attention to the end table with a large stack of papers on it. The top page was spattered in blood but the title was still visible. As he read the title a slight grin came across his face. He knew he was looking at Robert’s latest book. He read the words aloud.
A Lifetime Love Affair, by
Robert Mitchell
&
Lea Ann Mason
{0} 
What Comes And Goes...Revisited
It was another year of hope
Still dangling in what comes and goes
What disappears seemingly forever
Perhaps victims of perception
Until we dare scratch more than the surface
Unravelling each and every knot
No longer amicable to just hanging on
Climbing up or slipping down
Choices we tend to defer
As the middle is where we feel safest
That baggage that weighed us down
Until the day we chose to cut it loose
Steps ahead now not looking behind
Yet some pains still ever nagging
For a time to make our own sunny days
Eyes now squinting from brightness
Until our eyes focus
Adjusting to the lost yet familiar
Embracing the smile yet still distant
Still dangling in what comes and goes
What disappears seemingly forever
Perhaps victims of perception
Until we dare scratch more than the surface
Unravelling each and every knot
No longer amicable to just hanging on
Climbing up or slipping down
Choices we tend to defer
As the middle is where we feel safest
That baggage that weighed us down
Until the day we chose to cut it loose
Steps ahead now not looking behind
Yet some pains still ever nagging
For a time to make our own sunny days
Eyes now squinting from brightness
Until our eyes focus
Adjusting to the lost yet familiar
Embracing the smile yet still distant
Thursday, 8 November 2012
How A Woman Knows If He Really Loves Her
1) When he says, "I love you almost as much as peanut butter".
2) If he lets her pick the shrimp off of his plate in a restaurant.
3) When he lets her keep the memory card with all the nude photographs.
4) When he buys her a Hooter's uniform and she doesn't even work there.
5) If he starts to order Strawberry Daiquiris at a sports bar.
6) When he buys figure skating tickets because he loves spending time with her more than he hates watching figure skating.
7) When she says. "I Love You" and he says, "I know".
8) If he reads 50 Shades of Grey and actually gets it!!
9) When he turns the channel from Star Wars to Storage Wars
10) If he says, "You are beautiful" before she puts her make up on
2) If he lets her pick the shrimp off of his plate in a restaurant.
3) When he lets her keep the memory card with all the nude photographs.
4) When he buys her a Hooter's uniform and she doesn't even work there.
5) If he starts to order Strawberry Daiquiris at a sports bar.
6) When he buys figure skating tickets because he loves spending time with her more than he hates watching figure skating.
7) When she says. "I Love You" and he says, "I know".
8) If he reads 50 Shades of Grey and actually gets it!!
9) When he turns the channel from Star Wars to Storage Wars
10) If he says, "You are beautiful" before she puts her make up on
Saturday, 22 September 2012
A Bad Man With Good Intentions
Copyrighted@robmason2012
He stood
there sheltered and out of the wind. The overhang of the building kept him dry
as a hard autumn rain pounded the streets with no signs of letting up. With one
full bag and one empty heart he bided his time waiting for his chance to be
reborn. And he understood the irony of a rebirthing that would finally define
and then claim his life. The streets were empty except for a few cars passing
but no one paid him any notice. He blended with the night. He blended with the
darkness. He embraced the loneliness and he preferred it that way. He touched
no one except for maybe that one. He could never be sure. But she was out of
his reach now. Or perhaps, he was out of hers. And when he stopped wondering long
ago it defined a man thankful for both
The shrill
of a blowing whistle caught his attention and he turned towards it in
anticipation. A false alarm as it was not yet his turn. The night seemed to be
getting longer while his days felt only more numbered than ever. A bad man with
good intentions is a man who craves to crawl out of his own skin. And these
cravings were now more than just creeping! He wanted something more while
feeling that he was deserving of less. Such a man who dreams for fields of gold
and green is surely a man who dreams in desperation. He revised his dreams when
revising his life. Defining success when accepting pain, his loneliness was his
crowning achievement. He knew his fate and he knew his true self. He was born
to hurt and was determined that it would never again be shared. He would better
himself this night when he left behind the one he loved. His loss would be her
opportunity. Her chance for love would be his selfless act. He loved her more
than life itself. He loved her and so he let her go.
The
raindrops became a blur as he drift to places and traces of another time. It
was as if he had strayed into a dream but one where he always knew how it
ended. It always ended and always the same. The night became a portal for
reliving every past mistake of his life and each moment seemingly fresh in his
mind. One last time and hopefully for the last time, he relived each and every
regret. The wounds still stinging and the scars still reminding and there stood
a man wondering if any amends would ever be within his grasp. It was a fleeting
hope but he hoped that leaving would be a step in the right direction. Nearer
to the end a man yearns to leave behind a legacy. When realizing that he will
leave nothing that defines honour and valour, he feels caged in a trap of his
own doing. There is no reprieve save that of returning to where it all began with
hope that it may bring comfort to an end.
Much like
his internal struggles, the rain refused to relent. Soon, he would step from
his comforting cover and brave the elements for a greater good. He didn’t mind
the rain as a man who feels washed up never does. He didn’t mind the cold as a
man who lives cold hearted never does. Many seasons had passed on while life
passed over him and evolving a man defining indifference. Yet, there was still
a remnant of what he once was. But it was fading fast. He decided that before
what he is finally destroyed the remnants of a man he once knew that this pain
would never again be shared. His new beginning could have been felt as his year
of hope but he knew in his heart it would be his last poem never read. He could
have convinced himself that a new start would lead to an alternate ending. Yet,
he knew better. One who hurts is only capable of hurting others. And he knew he
was born to hurt but he didn’t wish too.
Within a few
days of leaving there were a few who had noticed his absence. Others would not
realize it for months. And there were some who never noticed at all. A few
would ask why while others could not be bothered. But the one he missed the
most was the one who never let her feelings be known. As time passed, he never
heard from her at all. It hurt yet, he was not surprised. He could find little
blame in a world where so many people were hurting from the lack of basic
nourishments that sustain from within. Through his own circumstances he
understood that one should never be labelled based on only the worst they are
capable of. A man wanted love but did not deserve it. He wanted happiness but
never earned it. He was a bad man with good intentions and wanted to change it.
He would live out his days alone and he knew it. He spent his final years wandering
around a new town which felt strangely familiar. Perhaps a native son had just returned
home to complete the inevitable cycle of life. Perhaps it is a destiny that all
must fulfilled. One man just drifted away like an evening’s summer breeze. He seemed
to disappear as easily as the innocence from a young boy’s eyes. What he had to
offer seemed to be what nobody wanted. What he wanted seemed always a wish too
far. He wondered if this world would ever find tolerance for a bad man with
good intentions. And he wondered if he could ever find the compassion to tolerate
himself.
He stood
there sheltered and out of the wind. The overhang of the building kept him dry
as a hard autumn rain pounded the streets with no signs of letting up. With one
full bag and one empty heart he bided his time waiting for his chance to be
reborn. And he understood the irony of a rebirthing that would finally define
and then claim his life. The streets were empty except for a few cars passing
but no one paid him any notice. He blended with the night. He blended with the
darkness. He embraced the loneliness and he preferred it that way. He touched no
one here and thus hurt no one here. It was time to move on as a man with a good
intentions made a choice not to be a bad man.
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