Before More

 

This is one of the best

Ways, to compensate

When you are not here

 

Thinking and then letting

Nature take its course

 

 

Yes, the morning is as

Lovely as always

And nothing is wrong

With that

That alone, it is blessed.

 

This is much more.

 

 

Before the noise of the artificial world intrudes

The morning after the wash of rain

All clean, all perfect

 

As are the thoughts

Perhaps clear ones desired, certainly

But perfect ones, for certain

 

Curtains raise

Smiles are teased by thoughts

Refreshing reminders of a simple pure morning

being

Simply special

Sweeten with desire

 

 

More and more

To raise the hope

You will appear by magic

And make this gift of time

Of uninterrupted beauty

More so wonderful

 

 

 

May 31

 

I chose the moment,

a day of sunshine,

and the time, no clock ticking.

To think of tomorrow

 

The shackles of

The past

Still remain rusty and

Gnawing

 

The taunting

Of no do-overs

Ever

In chorus

With mistakes

 

And how they hold back

The true tomorrow

 

It will not work

I am becoming the lock pick

 

And I can hear

The jet roar

That will take me to you

 

Even for a day

Or perhaps just

One glorious, true hour

It will prove

You are there

As I dream

 

 

 

A Slow Meal, An Improvised Menu

 

Let us start our dinner at 11 a.m,

 to give us the time and leisure

to consume as many of

our thoughts and words as possible

before someone says time to go.

 

Of course, we could just ignore that clarion.

 

We do not want to rush this

meal of our minds,

 the taste of our smiles and

the satiation of our discovery.

The courses are a menu that comes

 in the moment of before.

It flows from a morsel of thought

to a plate of sharing.

 

We have offered tidbits of tastings to each other

from afar — a review of sorts —

yet now our appetite demands multi courses

in full.

 

We are healthy and

know what tastes good.

Our words are the meal

that fills us and give us true life.

 

 

No one thinks of a cello, French horn and oboe

performing as one. Yet that is the most beautiful music.

Imagination. Improvisation

Intimacy. Intertwined.

All in.

 

I hold the chair out for you,

my invite clear.

LetÕs sit next to each other and

feast upon thoughts

and words and the menu that

is made just for us.

 

 

Out of Nowhere

 

Out Of Nowhere is such a divine desire. Minding our day, thinking only of perhaps the next hour,  the realism of the big picture tucked away in a far concern of the mind.

 

Then, out of nowhere, it wakes up and says hello.

 

That new person. That new, insane, dream karmic connection. The moment on a hike when you turn the corner and there is a vista like no other.

 

An eager overreaction to some. Not to one who has trod many roads.

 

Out Of Nowhere has a cousin named Intriguing.  They tease with contrary emotions and prompts. When they have reunions, other cousins often show. Curious. Calm, Yes ItÕs True. Sunrise in the Afternoon.  Here It Is. And then two more infrequent attendees. Trust Your Gut and Take The Path.

 

Some days are just days of beauty.

As if the world is trying to apologize for the horribleness many of its inhabitants inflict.

 

A path in a wood never seems to fail. Even when stone walls block or streams appear, there are other ways.

 

And the same with the other person. Honesty is such a gold currency. Trust your own words and you may trust the words of others. The slippery path can still be walked with an adjusted pace, for Out of Nowhere is around an upcoming corner.

 

There are paths no one walks on any longer.  They cry for feet crunching leaves, bark being touched, animals freezing at the new species in the woods, the sky poking here and there.  I am remembering now, finally, where those paths begin

 

Intriguing has wonderful rest stops all through the hike.  At some point all the cousins will have a grand reunion. I believe you and I are invited.

 

 

 

It Is

 

There is nothing

Like the moment

When you

Realize

It is the moment

 

The second before, the second

Of and the seconds

Of fulfillment right

Then

 

That moment

 

It can come.

It is waiting for you

 

Just be brave

Eyes open

Trust in knowing

A moment

Waits for you

 

 

 

The Shivers

 

The shivers feel different

This morning

As if something is up

 

Yes, it is a spring morning

The dogs seem to be in

Wonderful happy snore singing sleep but

Sensing a swirl in shadows

 

One of them shivers

As if feeling

Something and responding

 

Hidden perhaps in the light

In another room

that is not real but out of habit

 

Now morning words come to me

In shorts bursts

Like a damaged Morse code

Steam heaters clang

Mocking the promise

Of 70 degrees

 

 

She talks to me from

Afar within me

As she prepares to leave

The warmth of her

Spirit

Tells the shivers

To behave

 

And now halted,

The love of the fresh dream

Wonders why

It cannot stay awake

 

 

 

Desires

 

You stretch and pose

The art becomes real

Your creativity is

the focus

And as the real artist

you take charge

 

 

I cannot be without words

For you

for this moment

Or any moment

the way how I touch you

with each word knowingly

The only way you permit

 

 

Give me a deep and

sweet sigh of spring,

the sweet and almost

real dream of a love.

 

It seems true, intense, deep,

it takes your breath away and

the emotion assails you.

As it does mine

 

Last night I woke up suddenly and

then I couldn't sleep anymore,

maybe I felt you were reading my writing,

Seeing how I create them

 

 

It is still dark

And always is

Until I hear from you

 

© Tom Squitieri

 

Bio:  Tom Squitieri is a three-time winner each of the Overseas Press Club and White House CorrespondentsÕ Association awards for his work as a war correspondent. He reported from all seven continents, always writing as a voice for the voiceless. His writing and reporting have been published in an array of newspapers and magazines. Tom has taken his love of story telling to poetry, to transport readers to a dreamy universe and liberating them with a potion to happiness. His poetry has appeared in The RavenÕs Perch, No Strings Attached, Style Sonata and The GriffinÕs Inkpot.  Visit www.redsnowltd.com