Poets Prayer

Can I pray to you in poetry?
Do you hear the prayers of Art?
Can you hear the anguished cry
Of my pen scratching in the dark?
Can I sense you gently nodding?
Is that your healing touch?
O Lord, are these anguished scratchings
That I offer you enough?

Idle Tears

Is there any healing in these tears?
Or just emptiness and despair?
Is there a way out of the quagmire?
Or just leading deeper into fear

Behold the greif of your son

All senses inhale
that which speaks of loss
Exhale grief, son
Soul notes float up
Drifting from the deep
Melancholy tears from fingers
Flooding the keys
Perfume hangs low, near the unvaccumed
carpet
You speak to me of death, soul
You speak of love
You speak the language of bitter tears
Exiting unbidden
So bittersweet,
The taste of soul blood
Minor notes falling from trees
Gently sighing
Sad with love and longing
Bone dry
Father, behold,
Behold the grief of your son
Be not deaf to the souls
unseen weeping, Father
Behold the grief of your son