adventures in dysthymia

Saturday, September 30, 2006

TWO QUINZAINES

Your dreams were never my dreams.
Why then do you still
fill my nights?

* * *

I entered you completely.
Can I ever find
me again?

Stephen Brooke ©2006

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

DRIVE

Each day you travel further
down that road from me;
with every mile I’m fading,
a rear-view memory.
You passed a sign that pointed
your way to what might be;
that far horizon promised
it would set you free.

In the end you’re only looking
to survive,
and there’s nothing left to do
but drive.

Across the desert distance
I can hear the song –
your radio turned high,
your engine running strong.
Each elusive echo
tells our story wrong;
yesterday is dust
and the road is long.

In the end there’s nothing left
but to survive,
nothing left for you
but to drive.

I say I still believe
though faith left long ago;
I know I’ve lost forever
but can not let it show.
I wonder how far down
this highway you will go;
should I ask the wind
how long it’s going to blow?

Stephen Brooke ©2006

A song lyric I've been tinkering with off-n-on for a while. Probaby about as far as it's going to go for now.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

THE BEACH ~ WINTER

Gray solitude – the wind sprayed
its name across the walls of winter,
those crumbling ice-water arcades

where I played pinball with my soul.
It should have been a summer dalliance,
not that storm-filled affair;

the sea is a gentle lover then.
She must grow cold, grow volatile,
humbling we who paid her court

and paid her toll. Each summer lover
fell away till I remained –
I in her gray solitude.

Stephen Brooke ©2006

one beach poem deserves another and, yes, it's 'about' surfing, at least superficially

Saturday, September 23, 2006

THE BEACH ~ SUMMER

Those were summer nights on the beach –
the stars would crowd the sky, the phosphorescent waves
tumbled, faded about the piles of the pier.

I remember the pier, its floating lights,
and I remember distant lightning over the Gulf
and the lightning of Fourth of July fireworks.

Has it grown too late to spread a blanket
on the sugar sand, to play my guitar
once more, softly, for the night?

For the night and for you – ah, youth
was never that sweet yet I remember
the way a summer night should be.

Stephen Brooke ©2006

It's definitely been a while since I've written much here. Still busy moving to the new house; I expect it will be another three or four weeks before I'm able to load up a big rental truck and move all my furniture over. Lots of repair work and cleanup to do first. And I doubt we'll be completely finished with the move and getting the Steinhatchee property on the market for a good while yet. I do still intend to have Thanksgiving dinner at Peanut Road...and maybe a house warming party before then!

Friday, September 01, 2006

NEVER ASKED

I’m no rain man but I do
have these intermittent showers;
I’m no super man but I do
have my share of secret powers.

Never asked but always knew
this dream vanishes with dawn.
Never will ask more from you;
drink my shadow till it’s gone.

I’m no madman but I do
swim the sea of my obsessions;
I’m no highwayman but I do
rob you of your heart’s possessions.

Never asked to start anew,
hero of a losing game.
Never will ask what is true;
your face wears another name.

I’m no craftsman but I do
sell this work of mine with pride;
I’m no holy man but I do
see the angel at my side.

Never asked when we were through,
only that you drink my toast.
Never will ask more from you;
let my shadow be no ghost.

Stephen Brooke ©2006

As much a song as a poem, perhaps.