Kisses

and then you brought me


a basket of warm kisses


through long years of snow

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.

The Price You Pay

Rubies, sapphire, diamonds & gold


All the money your purse can hold


Had nice place flood took away.


Nothing’s left to do but pray.


Nothing shines more than a day


Ain’t nothing worth the price you pay.






Baby cried when the black water came.


Cried and cried as we washed away.


It’s hard to live, hard to breathe


After losing everything you need.


Nothing shines more than a day


Ain’t nothing worth the price you pay.






Everything’s changed now I’m back


Where I lived, everything’s black.


New city’s for them, them that got.


Just mud for us, us that’s not.


Nothing shines more than a day


Ain’t nothing worth the price you pay.










Nothing left where I’ve been.


Nowhere to go to start over again.


No one said I was born to be good,


But I had a good life in my house of wood.


Nothing shines more than a day


Ain’t nothing worth the price you pay.






Rubies, sapphire, diamonds & gold


All the money your purse can hold


My next house gonna be steel and stone,


Up on the hill, like the rich people own


Nothing shines more than a day


Ain’t nothing worth the price you pay.

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.

I Miss You

(January 3, 2011)

It is the month of ravens, the season

of liquid light.  It has been a long year

for golden tigers, and I cannot bear

to be without you for another day.

My tracks freeze in their place, there is no more

getting away.  Even my shadow is

brittle.  In the great spruce behind our house,

three ravens squeak rusty nails out of iced

bark with their cawing, change positions as

they ladder up branch by branch, but the one,

I think female, is first to find the top.

Yesterday, after the snow came, the sun,

behind a wispy smudge of cloud, shimmered

dreamy and moonlike, and a lone eagle

wove its way across the steel wool sky like

the shuttle of a loom.  It is the month

of coal, of burning cold.  The charred raven

brings its gift of fire to all those who

freeze.  The crystal sunlight turns into ash.

I am left to ask, “What brings you to me

in the night?  Will the knit of need and knot

of time hold only when arms and legs are

woven tight?”  My fabric frays without you.

Here in the slant burn of the winter sun,

in the black and gray grit of frozen thaw,

I climb the stark tree of mind, limb by limb,

into the murky sky.  Each day away

from you, I ache in the hollow of my bones.

___________________________________

See the vidoe version:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0odVZQSWwgM

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.

My Will Is Gone

The stars are melting / I’m a going home (2x)


The wind is moaning / don’t wanna be alone






Come on baby / be my port in the storm (2x)


Won’t you love me / while my will is gone






I need your fire / to light up this hole (2x)


I need your loving / to fill up my soul






You love to tease me / but you sure can please (2x)


Come on baby / put my mind at ease






Say you love me / it won’t last too long (2x)


I’d say I’m sorry / but I’ve done no wrong






Come on baby / help me ride this storm (2x)


Won’t you love me / while my will is gone






My will is gone

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.

The Solstice Eclipse

This poem needs to be viewed as a pdf.  Please click here.

“The Solstice Eclipse” is a “2D” (or 2 directional poem).

It was composed to be read both vertically (down each column) and horizontally (across each row).

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.

Living Well

to live well beyond


your means, find wealth in the breath


that fills you with light

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.

Amber

I found the poet’s flashlight
shining dark as honey through
the mouth of a dream,
welding everything together,
filling the mind with sweetness,
oozing over edges like tree sap.


In the cave of our love
by the touch of your skin
I find my way, I flicker
and flare in the warmth
of your arms, then all is gone
in a sputter of breath.


When the day fades, how precious are
these luminous moments together.
The poem slows it all down. Under
its thick, sticky baptism of amber,
the radiance of ebony keeps us
golden through the silky night.

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.

Another

to fall in love with
each breath sweeter than the last,
sigh like flowers when
bees wiggle in, that’s one thing,
to live it, is another

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.

The Third Full Moon in a Season of Four

The gathering storm eats

this true blue moon,


a dry wafer, soft hazy red


against the tin horizon.






It slips like a shining quarter


into a jukebox of cloud,


lingers gleaming in the dark coin slot


while the sad song plays.






We walk on bundled and


stiff like scarecrows into


the blustery November dusk.


We came to watch the full moon rise,






but what seems more pertinent now


is how this diaphanous disk


of sanguine floats pale


and quiet as milkweed seed






on the edge of the wind


and then is gone. There is


something rare yet relevant


in the way it disappears top first






into ambiguous lips of gray,


like the way you pull me


into your love from whatever


sorry spin my mind puts me in.

We tread our rambling path


calling owl and raven,


dizzy from the hordes


of squawking geese






hurtling above our heads.


The leaves crisp from their fall


crackle under our feet.


We have become deeply familiar






with how the rippled lake


smooths itself into evening,


how the shadowed land stretches and


yawns as the sleep of winter nears.






We wonder if the glowing gold eyes


of coyote will follow us into the dark.


There is something amazing,


something intimate and perhaps enduring






in how our footprints freeze in mud.


We have been this way a hundred times


through blistering summer heat and sudden


spring rains. Nothing ever remains,






yet this sunken moment


of our meandering, frosted in


the last blood of sunset,


glimmers as night closes in.

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.

Rerun

I watch myself


(someone has to)


an endless rerun


of a canceled sitcom.


(There is nothing better on.)


With each episode the laugh track builds,


until snickers echo guffaw.


I long for the theme music,


the predictable end, a chance to begin


again. I have seen it all before.


I want a commercial to tell me


what I need to be happy.






Everything I say is misunderstood,


as if I am talking in igpay atinlay.


If someone bothers to reply,


it’s like white noise, radio static,


the high buzz of the test pattern,


punctuated by screeching


brakes, the breaking of glass.


On my birthday, I go off


by myself, howl through


the empty night until


there is nothing left


but a mournful wail.






Yesterday was not like this,


it was quiet and made


of silly putty. The sun


was a lemony lollipop.


Cars jostled joyfully along


like bright balloons,


bouncing refugees


from the happy party,


and your face, pressed


warmly against mine,


picked up the colors


of my cartoon.

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.