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  May 2015 A A Bernier
Aaron Combs
Near the Houston hotel sitting on the bench,
looking at the warring sun,

  I see it's thoughts
fill the amber sky.   

I feel. The heat -

Pouring on the the pillars of the blue and purple shoreline.
    
Her.

As the sunset runs in

The stars twinkle like a dying headlight, a
deer passes by the ocean. And immediately
the rain falls, my blue jeans are soaked, and the
crash of clouds and thunder with enormous rain fill the night air.
          
I race and reach for the memories.

Running through the ocean blue,
Searching for her silver eyes,
The sky stands black along the naked coastline.
Still running, crushing, subduing
the *****, lobsters, and rocks underneath
the open earth.

I'm running to find her eyes again.

Where home felt so new, against her wit and lovely sarcasm,
and her untimely ways, my life never felt so real,
I stand on mountains looking for a place to kneel
before her silver eyes.  

In the distance, I hold the warmth of her hands,
For in the secrets of her dress, her name reverberates
like blue Texan rivers.

Her smile hangs like the moon over water,
and I breathe my dreams out for her, my sweet surrender.
My 10th poem!
A A Bernier May 2015
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From Dust we were made,
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And to Dust we are headed.
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From Dust we made mountains,
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And on Dust we have treaded.
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From Dust we formed empires,
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That in Dust were embedded.
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From Dust we were made,
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And to Dust we are headed.
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A A Bernier May 2015
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Up above, down the road,
sideways and below;
signposts can be found
wherever she goes.

But she saw no signs.

She wasn't blind; Not one bit.
Her eyesight was clear.
Along the paths of regret,
She had seen much appear.

But she saw no signs.

What she saw was a face,
the face of her daughter.
In her mind young in age
With eyes blue as water.

And then a sign came.

It came in a letter
which she had been handed
"I am alive," it had said,
"and doing well," it had added.

And there was the sign.

She broke down in joy,
those few words were enough.
A new life had been found
For the child she gave up.
This Poem was written for a contest for AllPoetry.com.

Contest Entry: allpoetry.com/A._A._Bernier

Contest page: allpoetry.com/contest/2647603-New-Member-Contest---May-2015

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A A Bernier May 2015
I know not if I have ever seen
a night so still as this.
Clouds rolling on a starry sea;
A beautiful eclipse.

But lo, another light appears
now I am on the run.
The man whose gold I stole is near
he brandishes a gun.

A dark alley, a scurried fall
Slowed by the sack I bore;
he caught me trapped against a wall,
and the night was still no more.
A A Bernier May 2015
Gathering faiths ‘neath earth and stone
in pressing dark and trodden halls
where fire ignites in broken souls
and flames ignite the temple's walls

In slumber rests the rusted blade
the sound of freedom softly rings
as musty eyes emerge from gray
and stirrings do the noises bring

A hope renewed where death prevails
awakened in the lowly cast;
For t'was between two rods of steel
That freedom was attained at last.
A A Bernier May 2015
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On a stone the roses lay
still in the morning light
over words which bring me pain
and sadness to my eyes.
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And I will not forget the day
where plenty tears supplied;
for when in earth her form was layed
became the day I died.
A A Bernier May 2015
Sightless I see, within my mind
An ocean of timeless horizons
A tranquil night, this endless dream
the realm my being resides in

A scattered thought from a shattered light
spreads out and takes hold inside me
An echoed sound from a stream of silence
Clings on with a hidden binding

A well so deep, a depth so dark
A thousand memories to overcome
And yet this sound, a song renewed
Emerges saying, "What's done is done."

What has been lost, while yet not found
may be restored in days unknown
The empty vessel, the broken bond
Can mend in time - but not alone

The night, while dark, must still secede
And though it may grow long,
I wait in hope your light will come
So I may see the dawn.
This was in fact one of the first poems I ever wrote. It helped me to discover the passion I have for writing and although I only do it sparingly it has become one of my favorite pastimes.

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