The poems on this page who have no other credit given to them are mine... Last updated: 4-19-03

Glorifying the Fascade

Always saved
the best seat in the house
glorifying the fascade
you clung to--
beckoning
for our love to
procure wings and
light into the
silent picture blur...
Now the lights
dangle,
music
crouches--
intensified introversion
drowns out the
gaping greedy mouth--
the born atrocities
of your demise
programmed to black out
all rhyme and reason
into starstruck disillusionment

written: 1-5-03

Hold Fast

Parameters bleed together
these nonsensical drops
sounding like words
lacking definition--
remember when I knew
where we stood
cling to when I could
follow your lead--
through the empty air
you follow an
unjustifiable prayer
when all I want is
to hold fast,
you lose the moment

written: 1-5-03

Sonnet 119

What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,
Distilled from limbecks foul as hell within,
Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,
Still losing when I saw myself to win!
What wretched errors hath my heart committed,
Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!
How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted,
In the distraction of this madding fever!
O benefit of ill! now I find true
That better is by evil still made better;
And ruined love, when it is built anew,
Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.
So I return rebuked to my content,
And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.

William Shakespeare

Christian Comfort

Somehow
You feel comfortable
Dragging through
The same routine…
Confess
Repent
Praise
Listen
Sing obediently
Into the back of a pew
Sing imprisoned
Secure
Behind holy walls…
And everything has its
Time and place,
An infrastructure
Set in stone tablets…
And the passion,
The humanness,
All connections,
All gone
In decorated words
To a savior
You have never known.

Staircase

Calla lillies
shadowed
on the earth-green above
our nest
risked reputation to
nestle like spoons
through the night dew
...adrenaline rush
with the chemistry
smoldering between those looks
like we had never
touched hands--
engaged in contented
rhythms
and I awoke entwined in
your scent--
breakfast vapors
fishtailing
up the staircase

12-13-02

Carnations

You always preferred
Carnations
(I’ve always liked carnations)
“They last long”
“Yes, because they last long”
“It’s too bad
Love is more fragile
Than the
Rose buds you’ve bought,”
I said…
I remember
Purity in stability
You always asked
For white roses
Perhaps they reminded you
Of our love
Perhaps you should have
Bought carnations instead…

5-?-02

Blue

On waves of silken blue light
The silence of solitude
Caresses harsh gremlins of the mind
Into compassion.
Aqua rays of serenity
Shimmer
In and out
Of the chambers of your heart.
Alone, but full of indigo
Reassurance of life
Calmly brushing its sapphire wings
Across your cheek.

?-?-01

Unravel
the blue threads
of spent hours
all the way to the
last stitch...
The fabric of
a year of memories,
made solely of love.

4-27-02

Tracing the outline
of our hand-knit
relationship
to each lose end,
each small flaw
diminished through
the backwards
telescope of time;
the pattern of our
love
can only be
heaven matched.

5-8-02

Mooneyes

Mooneyes
Am hypnotized
By her full moon eyes,
Mesmerized
By her laughing fingers,
My hand lingers
On her face,
Wanting to touch
The moon.

Bruce W. Worthel

Copyright ©2001 Bruce Worthel

Too Beautiful

Standing knee-deep
In a bay of crystal water
Between two
Rocky points of land,
I am completely free.
So free, I
Strip the layers
Of pain and corruption off my life
And let the beauty
Radiate deep into my skin,
Deep into my heart,
Until I become
Too beautiful to leave.

8-10-00

Love to Hate

PAIN is SILENCE as SILENCE is PEACE and
PEACE is near as PAIN is mine
TEARS are CRYSTALS as CRYSTALS are BEAUTY and
BEAUTY is here as TEARS held dear
LOVE is PASSION as PASSION is HATE and
HATE is near as LOVE is here

Nov-2000

Words...On A Page

All the poetry of this page...
Only a melancholy reflection
Of the poetry you have written
In my heart

Words...
On a page
Words...
That cannot tell
The sonnet of life
That I have made for myself
The sonnet of life
That you have etched for me

Poetry... Only a meaningless,
Backwards, and
Incomplete emotion
Scribbled neatly upon a page

Love...
Unable to define,
Unable to confine,
Hypocritical
In its incomplete view
Of life

Love...
Scribbled, unreadable
Written without sense

Words...
Penciled about memories
About feelings
Meaningless
In their description

Only words on a page,
Can mean so much,
Can mean nothing

Love...
Can mean the world

1-20-02