If Love

If you are gone and I am left
or else the other way—
if one is, of a love, bereft
to face the break of day,

then one heart wakes to God’s own light,
the glorious unfurled,
and one, the bitter end of night,
a cold and lonely world.

Which one of us will live alone?
My love, what does it matter?
With one name etched in marble stone
the other’s heart will shatter.

~ © 2006 By: W.D. Neighbors ~

In a Nutshell

In anger did she shake her fists and shout;
the courage in her eyes a joy to see.
Some fiery barbs and words she tossed about,
but not a single one was aimed at me.

“I’m never backing down!” She screamed, defiant.
“I’ll burn in hell before I budge an inch!
Their passive little slave, I was compliant.
with rules designed implicitly to pinch

the breath from me and bring me to my knees.”

“How dare the fools” At last, I heard her mutter.
“How dare they take me lightly.  Honey, please
refill my glass and kindly pass the butter.”

Then, sweetly, did she smile and toss her hair.
I challenged her to wrestle then and there.

~ A good egg ~

It happened in the kitchen, out in back
I'm sure you've heard this tragic tale before.
His life was ordered, nestled in a rack
until a footman dropped him to the floor.

A piece of broken shell lay near a chair;
a remnant of a meal that might have been.
and scrambled hopes were scattered everywhere,
yet Humpty tried, in vain, to rise again.

And all the horses, all the ruler's men,
the servants of an apathetic king,
dispite the story that's been heard since then,
just stood around and didn't do a thing.

Hump's widow's not the only one who cried
A carton, yes an even dozen, died.

© Copyright 2002 W.D.Neighbors

As easy as….

“So, tell me, my friend, baker”, I inquired,

“Just how much do you think that portion weighs?”

“What weighs?” said Baker, looking rather tired

“The pie that, in the yonder window, stays”

“Oh that”, he said without a passing glance

“How should I know? This Baker hasn’t been”

“Been where?” I asked him, staring quite askance…

“Up there!” and Baker here served up a grin.

“You know the story, don’t you?” Baker said

to parry my most worried, puzzled look,

“up over there, or so it was I read…

you know, in that small munchkin wizard book

where fruity pastry Bakers measure mass”

and here he pointed to the cloudless sky,

“You’ve heard it sung by that young Kansas lass…

somewhere over the rainbow…weigh a pie”

Arachnophobia

I loved her with an overwhelming passion,  
devouring my victim while she slept;
and not unlike a spider, I would fashion  
a tangled web where nourishment was kept.  
  
My love was an obsession in disguise,  
my hunger but a single-minded beast.  
No hope would I allow to fill her eyes;  
the kill was followed quickly by the feast.

What merit is there in this kind of ... what?
The word I sought is one I've often used.
But that which lies dismembered here is not
a love, it is a gift I have abused.

I loved too much and now I've learned too late...
The more I loved, the more she found to hate.


Dean Neighbors



Arachnophobia
« on: Mar 23^rd, 2002, 12:06pm »

Imaginary Friend

I listen to your silence
and try to understand.
I occupy your vacant heart
and hold your empty hand.

You've known me whence and whither,
from since to either end,
your non-existent, very real,
imaginary friend.

Dreamer By Default

I balance on a pitching deck
between the sea and sky...
aboard my sturdy ship of life
and try to fathom why

the Lord would choose to make a simple
mariner like me,
my head lost in the distant stars,
my spirit in the sea.

As I set course for shore and home...
it's freedom I exalt.
I'll fill my sails with faith alone,
a dreamer by default.

Adjacent Possibilities

In adjacent possibilities,
the doors we've yet to choose,
live the infinite examples
of our iterated muse,

where exceptional is common,
ingenuity abides
in a syncopated ocean
of reciprocating tides.

Refracted Time in Pieces

We cannot see for certain,

though eyes are open wide

but, there behind the curtain,

Infinity abides.

The spectrum of creation,

the imagery of time

turns out, on close inspection,

ambiguous as rhyme.

What seems to one man, heaven,

can be, to others, Hell.

Refracted time in pieces?

How can one really tell?