What a strange look you gave me when I said the words

of finite wisdom, realizations tucked away quietly

to unwrap in stormy days and contemplate.

Death sounds somber when I share wishes silently

across a dark room while the wind howls and shakes

our most precious foundation of love and care.

And you forcefully smile caught unprepared

for such moments when reality taste bitter

and I rehash lost years and countless mistakes.

Strange to see the end of my journey so near

and you the only one that always mattered

the only thing I will never regret.

And all I could wish for too late I fear

the time has come to end my dreams

and through you live a life of wishes drawn

on broken pieces of discarded fate.

To contemplate such moment it seems

inconceivable as we are eternal in our minds

and forget our flesh has an expiration date

stamped at birth,  for death already binds

every heartbeat to the approaching dusk.


“To die, to sleep –

To sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub,

For in this sleep of death what dreams may come…”

― William Shakespeare, Hamlet


Ruminations of a Cloudy Life



Ruminations of a Cloudy Life


A sweet-sour sense of quietly fading into a background

of shadows like stains left from spilled life,

not quite done but knowing it all ends in one act,

memorized lines learned along the way to enact

one more scene to satisfy my audience-

And how it flickers this fragile light

fueled by the essence of all that it’s found

in the beauty of miracles astounded

by the emotions I carry, such love and care

a reminder of what is to live despite

the twist and turns encountered in my travels.

Pause… take a deep breath and feel today

the curtain drawn back, the act unravels

into a silent story bound to disappear

as forgotten words and expressions decay

like leaves falling too late

into the wet coldness of my winters.

Pause… review the lines learned along the way,

listen to the subtle voice playing behind

the loudness of this reality,

the one that wants and dreams hinders

like the edge of a razor cutting away

brief moments of eternal wishes.

Pause… another deep breath,

I am here, flesh and bones aching

between my heartbeats of mortality

waiting for the curtain to drop one last time

on this act I so well created when death

becomes the last part to play.

Pause… pause… pause…

for eternity-


“The first thing fading is your beauty

the least trustworthy is your mind

down here on this earth

nothing’s of any worth

in the end

in the end”

― Fabian W. Williges, Far from perfect: songs & poems

Their Sins



Their Sins


I carry their sins deep inside my bones

and they turn and they burn

oh how they burn!

When I become unglued

they stick to my cells

and they say and it’s true

the sins of our fathers

will fall on their sons-

I carry their sins and a sickness of heart

and it breaks me apart

to my skin slowly rise

taking hold of my life

and they turn and they burn

oh how they burn!


“The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children.”

― William Shakespeare


(c) Paul Andrew Dunker 2014




Let the current take me,

not a strong swimmer I am

but a floating old tree

adrift too many times to find

the strength-

And I won’t mind to be

another countless one,

I was another one before

in dreams unmoored

with sails secure, a helm

to steer my life

into a sea of hope.

And I was helpless lured

to shores of paradise

that never was but a mirage

of my desires-

So let me drift

and be a floating old tree

wherever life would push ashore

I cannot swim, not anymore

just drift along

and wait for storms

 to take me far,

or break me apart-


“We keep drifting till we see light. Seldom do we realize that the light was always there!”

― Avijeet Das


The in Between



The in Between


I wish not to return-

To begin at a page many chapters behind

folded places to mark all the impressionable parts

(not too many I am afraid)

But sometimes in the story with a breaking of hearts

I left stains on the paper from my depleted tears,

underlined with red ink I may find

all the reasons to explain my deep fears

and go back on the story to connect I may try

all the dots from the long tedious chapters

the in between understanding the reasons

why a story begins with a cry

as it ends with the changing of seasons-


“And in the fall, the cold would wither that which was known, scattering new seed. In the spring, that which had been sleeping awoke and a new season of beauty began. For Life seeks life and builds a bridge across the darkest valley.”

― David Paul Kirkpatrick, The Address Of Happiness

Silence of a Lonesome Life



Silence of a Lonesome Life



can you hear the silence of a lonesome life?

It sounds like the wind howling in the storm

through the open window emptiness adorn

all the dusty spaces where memories subside-

It sounds like water rushing through the streams

in the enchanted forest of my past gone dreams.

Can you hear the silence as I drift away?

It sounds like a whisper in the dead of night

ghosts pacing the halls of my empty house-



can you hear the silence of a lonesome life?

It sounds like the wind singing to the moon

through the open window everything complete

all the spaces filled with memories alive-

It sounds like water playing in the streams

in the enchanted forest of my present dreams.

Can you hear the silence as I find my way?

It sounds like god’s whisper in the quiet night

ghost dancing the halls of my love filled house-


“To an optimist loneliness is freedom, to all others it is prison.”

― Amit Kalantri





My hope becomes old and it wrinkles and falls

to the ground beneath you-

Such a lonesome existence

to be found,

to be drowned

in a need that it grew

from a smile so much carelessly tossed,

as if knew

hope turns old with the distance

and it wrinkles and falls.


“Hold fast to dreams,

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird,

That cannot fly.”

― Langston Hughes