There is Beauty

There is beauty in the night, but only

For the specks of light that pierce the darkness.

Stars redeem, a silver sheen, to show me

Subtleties in new light, without starkness.

 

There is beauty in winter, but only

For the warmth that remains to enliven.

If the frozen frost wins out utterly

Ice’s art has no one to survive in.

 

Oblivion’s comforts are false and faux

Saying that crash is the only release.

But now is not pleasant for having no

Strife, but for the presence of restful peace.

 

There is beauty in the silence, only

Because in stillness I may better hear.

Fourteen Lines

Writing a poem is a curious thing
I have just fourteen lines to make you feel
Something, anything, get you remembering
To look at words and receive something real

But there’s no time for an introduction
Or if there was it’s over and now I
…I want to take you back to the ocean
To that night you knew you loved, heard her sigh

To the days when you just felt so ashamed
Going from knowing the world adores you
To knowing that it hates you, feeling blamed
I need to stir memories, but rhyme, too

Yet I don’t have time to tell you you’re wrong
In both cases.  Fourteen lines, used and gone