has it been
so very long
that we sat together
at the Blue Note
listening to jazz
those days
I would sign you out
for a trip
off-campus
a Shakespearean play
with The Scribblers
you writing poetry
in my living room
eating donuts
drinking coffee
reading every book
I recommended
in my classes
for 3 years
surprising everyone
at that school
who had so little faith
in you
who was always
one step away
from expulsion
but we knew
didn’t we, David
that you would blossom
and there you are
with family
a career in advertising
writing for a living
mentoring others
now
like I mentored you
my heart swells
to hear this
see you’ve grown
into the man
I always knew
you would be
and so honored
to have you
in my life
again
other writing
following one’s heart
step
by step
along an oft times
perilous journey
one walks runs
perhaps crawls
toward the vision
one beheld
before doubt
fear confusion
clouded one’s eyes
there
lies the path
toward the source
of the pounding
of one’s heart
how it works out
sometimes
forward
is back
and back
is forward
funny
how it works out
that way
counting stars
here
counting stars
that dot the sky
over your head
once more, again
on the screen
in a dark theatre
my eyes betray me
once more
again
as a scene
too familiar
plays out
there
triggering
once more
again
a life long gone
but still
beating
in my heart
on the lack of saints: in memory of some people I used to know
there were no saints
on those streets
you walked on
then
and now
wherever now is
just torn boys
turning into men
with conflicts raging
within
trying to live up
to some ideal
put upon you
carrying the scars
one gets
on body
on soul
and I
no longer your witness
carry you still
in my ravaged heart
she stands
at the center
of the world
arms outstretched
head tilted back
that neck exposed
a smile with the joy
of childhood
and I
at the edge
look inward
eyes drawn irresistibly
toward her
for the FULL MOON SOCIAL: let the winds blow
the air tonight
is chilly
returning home
from a night out
I stand hunched
on the front balcony
looking up
to the moon
a glass
in hand
to warm
this bruised soul
my thoughts drift
to another city
another person
standing under
this full moon
my glass is raised
my heart full
and the moon
looks down
approving
a humble gesture
let the winds
blow across
space and time
to brush the cheek
of an absent friend
This is for the FULL MOON SOCIAL hosted by Jeff Schwaner at Translations from the English.
Check out his site and come in or out to the moon above.
morning ritual
in the early hours
before the call to prayer
you enter my dreams
and I wake
your phantom presence
next to me
a morning ritual
the aching
in my heart
your name
popped up
in conversation
like Marley
it foretold of ghost
memories
of Christmases
though these
firmly rooted
in the past
and it’s not
even December
regret fills
my heart
this morning
as I turn
the page
on my desk
calendar
another month
soon another year
slips away
from what was
could have been
to what is
Leonard Durso 