A Perfect Place to Cry

There’s a myriad
Of poems to be written
About the entrancing mystery
Of a lovely girl’s lonely eyes,
The delicate sweet sadness
They softly reflect
In a streetlight’s sympathetic glare
Off a busted sidewalk’s
Rainy teardropp puddle.

I’m the harmless and meaningless poet
Of golden bracelets and vanished dreams,
The melancholy chronicler of feminine wrists
He can no longer kiss.

Certain milk-white shoulders
Just within reach
Look like home
And the perfect place to cry
Like the Patriarch Joseph

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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The Day God Died

Birds were singing
Outside the window,
Dawn light was beginning to show,
A day of decision was rapidly approaching.

On the day of my divorce,
There was brilliant sunlight streaming,
Drenching every boulevard with hope.

With tears on my face
And a quivering voice,
I asked my wife not to go,
But her mind was set to dash every memory
Against disintegrating stones of forgetfulness
Like an ancient warrior throwing an enemy’s children
Over a cliff to rocks below,
Plunging them to their death.

I took a long drive into the gorgeous sunlight,
But I knew, there were parts of myself and God

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Communion

I touched the sofa
Where once she sat
Reading Emily Dickinson
With candles lit.

Her soul was still with me
Like a sweet dream
Even before I sank
Into sacred sleep.

I don't want to walk through life
Mournfully like an ascetic nun
Living in a cluster
Hidden from the sun.

I have a heart of silence
Gazing at the sunset
Asking for spiritual guidance
And not the ability to forget.

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Virginal Soul

She mystically changes
Like night from day;
And in the instance
Of her sashay sway
Moving into another view,
I cannot recognize her face.

There were times in the past
When I could have lost my mind
Simply gazing into her eyes
But now they transport me to a different universe
Without any concept of time.

Everything about her is dark and mysterious
Like trying to solve a riddle in the rain
While the world vanishes with history
Leaving only spiritual destiny to obtain.

Her skin becomes pale and ghostlike
But somehow it makes her even more handsome;

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Romantic Romeo

Melancholy heart wavers
Like a sinking ship
From inward disappointment
Of life plans crumbling
On the unsavory streets
Of urban despair.

I dream of brushing
A beautiful woman’s hair
With the lavish possibilities
Of a millionaire,
But I daily catch curbside coins
Instead of the shimmering diamonds
I desire to place around her throat.

I’m never agitated for long,
Even though I have the empty stare
Of a preoccupied professor
At an archeological dig.

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Sad Girls

Human beings are fragile and need love
In this painful existence that begins with a slap
And often spirals downward into abuse
From the people who should desire to protect us.
Unkindness accumulates at school
And in the workplace,
You lose your original face
Of innocence and joy.

I’ve met sad girls I’ve wanted to kiss,
Rock them in my arms for eternity,
Remove the emotional scars of their history,
But I know, such scars never leave,
They’re deep razorblade-like cuts into the soul.

I haven’t learned yet
If I’m attracted to troubled and tragic girls,
Or if that is the only type of girl
I should expect.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Remember That When I Fondle Your Breasts

There is nothing but mystery
Around every fleeting kiss
As we crawl on the beach
After prowling all night like cats,
I wish we were entwined on a city roof
Completely naked in the moonlight,
I’m not satisfied with anemic dreams
Or love making that utters quiet squeaks,
I’ve made offerings to Aphrodite,
Remember that when I fondle your breasts,
Our hearts are tangled in a sensual web,
There is water from soft lakes on your skin,
I’m going to dive into your soul and swim,
Let this relationship blossom into poetic myth,
Let future scholars interpret it,
Every lesson of illicit love will spring from our book.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
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How Many Graves Can You Dig Before Your Own?

Too many difficult days accumulate
Like weeds in an otherwise pleasant field;

Every heartache becomes a hammer
And drives depression into the soul like a nail;

Some friends alleviate the sorrow like a balm
And others gently kiss your cheek like Judas;

I dream of a drunken avenue in the summer
Where children play and cars move slowly and sweet
Like a merry-go-round and no one is unhappy.

I want only to toast the departing of sunlight at dusk
And have the moonlight pour my next glass of wine;

I seek to dance for awhile and then welcome oblivion,
I cherish the day when mirrors will no longer take notice of me.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
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When the Planets Are Aligned

If I become depressed
And fail to see you
In your floral dress,
Then my weekend will be
Funeral-parlor sad,
Living a life of Ash Wednesdays alone.

I’ll call you on the telephone,
And tell you that your feminine voice
Is the entire panacea that I need
When my world is vacant parking lots
Infiltrated by degradation and thorny weeds.

If you allow me to hold your hand,
I know that you will understand
My overwhelming desire
To make you the object of intense devotion.

Please, don’t walk away and trample these emotions;
We may not meet again for several lonely lifetimes

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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In That Hour of Flowers

We were once spring lovers
Walking through lush green fields
Gathering flowers to place
In your sunlight-blonde hair.
We kissed beneath
The first budding maple trees
And felt such a rush
Of breathtaking love and lust
That we thought
We were volcanoes
That would ceaselessly erupt
Painting even a starless night
With a yellow golden glow,
But love is false and untrue,
You can’t trust marriages in June,
They never survive the sepia-tint
Of autumn leaves and truth,
You can only magically touch someone
For a fleeting moment
And then let them go

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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