cause and effect

you breathe, I inhale you;
like the warm rays of sun
beckoning grass covering
dew to rise up and fly back
to the clouds.

you speak, I soak you in;
like the voice of God whispering
down from heaven and altering
hearts to turn from old ways 
for a higher purpose.

you look my way, I dive in;
like a man who has walked the
desert for many years and finally
arrives at a lake filled with the
purest of waters.

you smile, I leap upon your lips;
like an astronaut who spent
far too long in space and has
returned to step foot once more
in his beloved home.

you touch me, I melt;
like an unlit candle waiting
patiently for it’s wick to be
ignited so it may be warmed
by the flame.

you kiss me, I kiss you;
like a babe who can only
mimmick what is seen and
hopes you feel the way I do
when our lips meet.

                               Jaymes Ian Woode


Love sparks

it happens in a flash, a brief
encounter, two people meeting
on the street, online, a coffee shop,
and they engage in conversation,
talk about the weather and where
they are from, it deepens into what
they do for a living, how they were
raised, what their hopes and dreams
are, they order a second cup, one
without cream and move from the
barstool to a booth, laughing at this
moment, this unexpected invitation
into each other’s life, though brief it
is heartfelt, passionate, and inside
visions of the near future begin to
arise, to come into light with color,
seeing hands being held, soft kisses,
playful moments in the park, with a
dog, and then a wedding, she’s in
white lace, seams adorned with gems,
her wavy hair falling on her shoulders,
as he stares, not afraid but frozen in her
presence, his vows memorized, they
walk the aisle together, into the
parking lot and the horse drawn
carriage, she steps in, he follows, they
embrace, her cup is empty, his still full,
she smiles at his silence as he comes
back to reality, he shivers, his hands
moist, but he knows, without any
doubt, right now, at this very moment,
what he must do, or fear losing
the magic she created in him.

                                          Jaymes Ian Woode


spring torrent, whips,
thrashing against pane,
wooden rocker, ghostly
old soul moving about,
screaming wind, trapped,
unsure they way to go,
swirling above, playing in
the trees across the street;
oh, how connected we are,
you and me, our existence
similar this night, spinning
about, destination unknown,
we sigh with heaviness and rage,
deep resonating melodies,
high pitches and low,
wailing aloud, lost, voicing
deep moans of frustration,
yet we pause, enough to tease
branches, waving as we pass,
at life, wishing to move, to 
uproot, though we, slapping
wind and I, yearn not to
remain uprooted, but to plant,
quieted and still, embracing
grounded possibilities.

                                        Jaymes Ian Woode

Worthless wish

What is a wish worth?
A coin, five cents or ten?
To leap from a cliff, splashing
in shallow waters?  To run
with the bulls, praying not
to be struck?  To dance or
sing, in front of strangers? To
look to the heavens, dropping
enough tears?  What is a wish
worth?  A return to the well to
add more money?  To gaze upon
stars or a crystal ball?  To shake
the hand of another?  Or, to
makes promises one cannot
keep?  A wish, a hope, a dream,
a longing for something impossible;
or maybe, just maybe, a purpose
which will never surface until
you move, forward, stepping
where you have yet to go.

                                Jaymes Ian Woode

An empty wish

What is a wish without something
to wish for; like a well without
water, an ocean without salt.

Yet, what is a wish that is useless
in meaning; like something that
only benefits the wisher.

And, when a wish is made over
an eyelash, or a flower, or even
a coin, is it truly a genuine wish?

However, twenty long years have
passed since I made a wish, with
closed eyes, and a silent prayer.

Wish after wish, year after year,
i wished only to know how your
life had turned out for you.

Now, my wish, and maybe yours
too, has been answered, and the
whole world will benefit.

And, the well will flood with
spring water; the ocean will be
overflowing with new salt.

The eyelash will land perfectly,
upon the face of a new tomorrow,
and the flower’s seeds will blossom.

The coin, the many coins, that I
bent over to pick up, hold more value
than what is shown upon their faces.

All because a wish was made that
held meaning; more than wondering
without belief of wishes coming true!

                                         Jaymes Ian Woode