Missing

These moments slowly melting like the Sun

Into the emerald green Irish sea,

Left longing, counting the days ‘til your return

So soon after your departing,

Making wishes while slowly twisting my

Claddagh ring.

____

Waking up from siesta’s sweet slumber

To find your spot empty,

Learning to navigate once again the ebbs and flows

Of the hallways of solitude,

No map or GPS needed,

Leaning on the solace offered by a Soul

That matured in the solicitations of solitude’s embrace.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, 07/03/2016

This poem is about missing someone.  It is also about learning to be alone and comfortable with the mysteries made aware in “solitude’s embrace”.

Night Music

Blue sky at sunset filtered through city’s

Amber haze

As cicada usher in the coming darkness

With their night music

____

Blue sky and silhouette of trees reflected

In pool’s watery depths

Another day’s potentialities melting into

The promises offered in dreams.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, 05/27/2016

The Offing

The offing of night’s twilight over sea

Oversaw and offered hope

Of a sweeter day tomorrow.

 

As today’s sun’s rays melted

Into the mystic, glassy waters

Carrying with them the day’s perplexities of sorrow.

Handcrafted poetry by John Hines, 01/10/2016

I have a “new year’s resolution” (https://coachhinesblogs.com/2015/12/31/new-years-resolutions-in-5-words) to slow down for 50 sunsets in 2016.  I’ve done it once thus far.   The feelings felt in a magnificent, shared sunset over the Gulf of Mexico in the last week of 2015 inspired this poem.

Isles of Antipodes

Guttural voice inflected,

Confessions of Sinful thought,

Be Damned!

 

Resurrection,

Genuflection,

Or purely Insurrection?

 

Is this merely just one more intersection?

Intersection of Introspection,

Stealing through the dusk of night.

 

Dusk of night labouring

Labours upon labours giving birth to

Nothing more than Captain Obvious.

 

Upon closer inspection,

It’s an outright and outwardly unrighteous loss,

What’s going on inside of us.

 

A purely neuronal dissection,

Total and complete,

Call it what it is.

 

Now bringing a synaptic infusion of

Tranquility,

Yet thoughts still divided as on Isles of Antipodes.

 

Soul brought low,

And now subdivided,

Into the Triunal three of threes.

Gute Nacht, Gute Nacht!

Handcrafted poetry by John Hines, 12/12/2015 

Liner Notes:

The inspiration for this poem came on a walk last Sunday, December 6 as the sun was setting over O-Town.  I wrote the beginnings of this poem in my phone while flaneuring my way around various neighborhoods south of the city.  I edited it this week between stints of teaching psychology and planning for, meeting for and having my annual formal observation.

This urban walk took me to some of these places in my mind and the places in my mind took me through my walk.  This week I’ve been voraciously reading between bouts of work, sleep and family time and working on more poetry:

The Magic Mountain, Thomas Mann

The Divine Comedy, Dante Alighieri

Bluebeard, Kurt Vonnegut

While Mortals Sleep (Unpublished Short Fiction), Kurt Vonnegut

Thank you for visiting and staying long enough to read these thoughts.

Have a most blessed day!