Sunday, August 16, 2026

one more time

questions burn
pages turn
still some secrets
I must learn

behind, our past
don't look back
nothing there
but smoke and ash

still, the dreams
my mind screams
waylaid answers
I get it seems

in between
crisp, fresh sheets
love starts over
for you and me

one more time
it's all fine
still I wonder
what's on your mind
Creative Commons License
Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License

between wonder and love

they meet in the middle
between east and west
between sunrise and sunset
somewhere between dependence and indifference

they meet in the middle
between unsure and surreal
between unopened and unsealed
somewhere between give and take

they meet in the middle
between rain and sun
between ended and just begun
somewhere between fact and fiction

they meet in the middle
between forgiveness and grace
between bittersweet and a honey taste
somewhere between wonder and love

somewhere between blue sky and monsoon
once again, they meet in the middle
Creative Commons License
Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License

Wednesday, August 5, 2026

the valley



Creative Commons License
Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License

once or twice

once or twice I thought I saw you
where shadows stretch across rock lawn
but it was the heat from the sun’s rays
a mirage evaporating into evening dust

once or twice I thought I heard you
drifting silently into a dream
when I looked you were not there
faceless lessons I finally learned

once or twice I thought I smelled
ambrosia left from morsels of love
it left me hungry after digested
thirst not quenched from bitter wine

once or twice I thought I felt
the softness of a lover’s hand
soothing brow but not my mind
coarseness of burlap against velvet skin

once or twice I thought I tasted
the sweetness of what could have been
imagination plays funny tricks
on the senses of what won’t be