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Poet's Corner

William Shakespeare

Oscar Wilde

William Butler Yeats

Allen Ginsburg

Adrienne Rich

Robert Frost

All poems in "Poet's Corner" were written by Tom Rittenhouse, site owner; the author retains all rights.

e.e. cummings

Edgar Allen Poe

Audrey Lorde

for the last time, i'm sorry

i'm sorry for the years that you hoped,

for the dreams you had for me,

before you knew enough to know better.

i'm sorry i was too young to tell you.

i apologize for the disappointments,

for not making the cut,

the outbursts and secrets,

and the way i made our family different from your ideal.

it does not give me pride to think of the days,

when you saw so much in me,

while you alone saw it, when no one else did.

i know you wanted more ... and that you wanted it for me.

i'm sorry that i took a different road for so many years,

to reach the one i now walk on,

the same one you suggested,

all those years ago.

today i see clearly the mistakes in my life,

the life you gave to me,

and i apologize.

i'm sorry, i'm sorry ... i am so sorry.

and today, this day that i am so contrite,

brings an end to all apologies.

after this, as I walk this new road,

there will be no more apologies and an end to guilty consciences.

for sorry is not enough,

and actions speak louder than words.

listen closely to my actions,

for they will speak volumes ... but will never again say, "i'm sorry."

A STAMP ON MY PASSPORT

A memory of the smiles

That we shared in your hometown

I the tourist in the night

You the shelter that I found

True devotion

From across the ocean

Pretending I�m fine

Wishing I could be there

A place where you could be mine

But my passport has expired

Every summer it returns

The Florence of my past

And your chocolate eyes that melted me

Are what make the vision last

Smooth expressions

From your dark complexion

No really I�m fine

Knowing someplace you�re alive

Just an ocean away

Passports expire every day

Three summers since have gone

Since we walked Italian streets

Still my soul is cold and restless

With a love I can�t complete

Two playful moons

They left too soon

How can we be fine

When we�ll never know why

Why we never thought to try

Try not saying goodbye

Why our kiss was so short

Just a stamp on my passport

Found

A northern place, remote and beautiful, cradled a future with you in its New England landscape; and while I traveled with a purpose on my journey to you, I remained unprepared for the ways you would inspire my heart and spur my devotion to a forgotten cause.

Daring to face every unknown, we cast a blind eye to jaded pasts, meeting under the sound of jets taking refuge from gravity in a midnight sky ... taking refuge in each other as we savored the reality of us.

A single day together conjured a year of familiarity, and I knew a more perfect man than my dreams could invent in their most genius of moods, an implausible truth for my eyes to behold and my soul to discover.

Meeting was proof that the other existed, that the other had been waiting a lifetime for the one he now held in his arms; everytime our eyes met, they laughed like children on Christmas morning, rejoicing at what they�d found and would forevermore claim as their own.

To dance with you in the light of this enchantment is to live a legend, for such adventures of the heart are widely rumoured but experienced by a precious few.

Over time, we will come to know more, to know the strength of the bond that brought us together across a thousand miles of country and too many years of hoping for the one true thing we feared no other man could be.

Meanwhile, I wait as my heart whispers beautiful secrets and my mind reminds me of practical realities, of inconvenient geography, and of difficult situations; but my mind is not to be trusted, for it recants its own sensible words at the mere sight of your face or the sound of your voice.

Until the time, Adam, that you find your way to me, find your way through time and distance into my

arms ... my heart ... my mind ... my life ... keep our memories close to you; keep them here, in the pages that will become our history ... a history of you and me, together ... of us.

Soon, I know, my hand will find a home in yours on September walks in the park and over lunches on Sundays; each night, my arms will once again find the meaning of life wrapped around your chest; and my heart, in good days and bad, will find a haven in the words you speak and in actions that say what your lips can not;

and I, Adam, will be your sanctuary.

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