Category: Poetry (Page 10 of 15)

The Clock Is Ticking

The clock

Is ticking

We only have

So much time

Sands falling

grain by grain

In a pile

In a mess

Ruining everything

That is touched

By human hands

Weathered hands

Dried

Cracked

Flesh falling off

As the sands

Continue to flow

To life’s end

– James Dubeau

Gazing From Coffee Shop Windows

Sitting at the coffee shop
Beside the windows
I wonder how long
Until my gaze
Across the bay
Isn’t paired with memories
Of a walk
Along the lake shore path
While figuring life out
On that summer day
Full of turmoil
Knowing what’s right
And knowing which path
My heart would be led
Watching the waves
While standing close
And the setting sun’s
Brilliant colors bared
Behind the cityscape
Blanketing us

– James Dubeau

Warm December Day

Standing out
On the terrace roof
In little more
Than a sweater
On the day
After Christmas
Lake is thawing
Open water below me
No fishermen in sight
Upon the ice
Warmth is here
Around fifty degrees
How long
Will it stay
How long
Until freezing depression
Blankets the land
Again

– James Dubeau

Steam Rose

Steam rose
From calm lake
Open waters
Between placid patches
Smooth ice
Encapsulated wet
From the frozen
One false step
On newly formed ice
Would send you
Plunging
Into bitter cold
Clinging wet
Freezing solid
In bitter air
System shocked
Floundered for help
But found none
Only
Darkness

– James Dubeau

The Box Cutter

The blade is quick

Against flesh

Silver

Sharp

For once

Not dull

Chipped

Or muck covered

From tape residue

Like all those years ago

A quick slash

Red line follows

Not too deep

Just enough

To cause pain

Surfacing emotions

Tears

That don’t emerge

Without inflictions

A mark

Upon soul

And flesh

Everlasting

Until the scar

Imposed on the earth

Fades with time

– James Dubeau

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2025 Ink Stained Jeans

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑