Conversations with Clouds
Conversations with Clouds
As I lie here in this tall, green grass, I court the company of cotton bears and cosmic bunnies. Therefore, petitioning heaven for peace of mind, that dare I die tomorrow it would feel good to live today, and so I share my thoughts with the sky—
Rolling white caps of stratus and quo
awash in rhapsody blue,
Tall and proud for to be a cloud
is to be a rogue ‘tis true.
Wanderers, drifters, coasters of cumulus,
of what places have you seen?
‘Tis not so much of where you are going,
but of where you have already been.
And though I have traveled many a mile,
there is knowledge that I require.
Would now you impart your wisdom true
for this I do so desire.
For I have seen the end of my days,
would it be too little too late?
That I court regret and am thus beset
to only tempt that fate.
As ‘tis not so much the things I’ve done
but the things I wanted to do,
And ‘tis not so much the loves I’ve won
but the love I wanted true.
Bridges I’ve burned are lessons learned
and wisdoms by which to live.
Yet the hardest coin ever I earned
was the knowledge of how to forgive.
The resolution I have come to conclusion
I have lived life as like a cloud,
And the only solution is the restitution
for what sins I have endowed.
This burden of guilt that I bear to grave
be my only heart once broken,
And that is the love for you that I spake
but yet have never spoken.
As my thoughts grasp the sky wondering why
I let go of a love that should be,
I know now a cloud has a soul as a soul ‘tis a cloud
and a cloud ‘tis a soul to be free.
And closing my eyes—I listen for her heart.
Charles Coakley Simpson
Three Days in Bed with a Stranger
Three Days in Bed with a Stranger
The morning light is dark with rain.
There is an unfinished tattoo
on her left shoulder.
And I remember
you closing the door on us.
Your words hung in the air for days,
like this Louisianan heat.
As if saying that you still loved me
would set things right.
There is an unfinished tattoo
on her left shoulder.
In the dark. I am grateful.
That our scars don’teven matter
Charles Coakley Simpson
Mortality
Mortality
Merciful thread of Grace–
Why hast thou bound me with Fate?
Not e’en Destiny can show me fair recourse.
Thus will come a day, when I shall look back on today
only to know that tomorrow will ne’er
Come
Charles Coakley Simpson
The Hole in Your Heart
The Hole in Your Heart
I never told you–
how easy you were to love;
will you forgive me?
Charles Coakley Simpson
Charles
Outlandos d'Amour 
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