Lady you are so very dear to me --
Like a pure flower soaking in the rain
Or the fiercely crashing waves on the sea
Or the whiten top mountains snow has lain . . .
The brilliant iridescence of a gem,
The rising moon's cool opalescent light,
Spring time azaleas and the scent of them,
The smell of honeysuckles in the night.
And the delightful sounds are also dear --
Like screaming winds that sing among the trees
Or many crickets calling from the weir
Or people humming happy melodies.
But dearer far than all surmise
Are sudden tear-drops in your eyes
Feb 22, 2021
Feb 22, 2021 at 7:23 AM UTC
I can remember the first time I laid
My eyes upon the love of my life, Lucia.
Her skin was so fair, like flaxen;
Like a shade of summer sunlight.
Her eyes were like blue sapphires.
Her cheekbones were high
And very delicately drawn.
Her chin pointed her mouth
Accented with two deep dimples.
Hers was a delicate, fragile beauty.
She had the elegance of the Queen;
And the purity of the Holy Madonna.
At first I never looked upon her with lust.
I just gazed in the depths of her bottomless
Blue eyes and discovered chivalric impulses
I never knew I had. Protective instincts
I thought had long since died in my childhood.
I esteemed Lucia with such fervor that
Is bestowed on the blessed ****** Mary.
But be warned . . .
For this might happen to you too.
One day your fine the next day
You are sighing at the sound of Lucia's name;
And writing verses of bad poetry in her honor!
Feb 20, 2021
Feb 20, 2021 at 1:32 PM UTC
There’s a silhouette outside my eyelids and a deep, dark color that rose up out of a dream I had as a child.
There’s a forest green and a slow, methodical movement that suddenly becomes lithe and deliberate under the influence of art.
A small part of me recognized him from the visions I created as a child, but I never thought he’d come in the form of someone I love so much.
The best kind of love-
The kind that stays even when the weather is poor
And the roads are winding,
The real kind.
There’s no romance,
No flowery words,
But just like the man from my made-up narratives as a kid,
He’s sturdy
and he feels real.
I can read him and hear him and feel him even when the lights are low and life gets loud,
And he does just fine no matter what.
He survives.
Despite my desperation to escape the company of every other person,
Frantically crawling back to the solitude of my home,
I hesitate to leave his company.
Because friendship is the finest balm
For the singe of human emotion,
Moonbeams and a night breeze after the severe, summer sun.
That’s the truest kind,
The most authentic kind
Of love.
And when I dreamt man as a young girl,
I thought I’d find him under a jasmine arch,
At the end of the isle.
Instead I found him in a classroom,
And became his best friend.
Feb 19, 2021
Feb 19, 2021 at 8:59 PM UTC
When my young lover swears she tells the truth.
O course I believe her; although I know she lies.
I know she does thinks me such a fool.
Just ignorant of the worlds false logic.
She thinks so vainly of me so unwise.
Although she knows I am past my prime.
Simply, I do not care about her false tongue.
Because on both sides the truth is suppressed.
But never will she say she lies a plenty.
And of course, I will never say I am old.
You see, loves best habit is it's trust.
And love loves not to tell years told.
So I lie to my love and she to me.
And our faults by lies, flatter be.
Feb 19, 2021
Feb 19, 2021 at 8:40 PM UTC
Early man lived in fear of natural events.
Myth and magic dominated his spirit.
Than gradually he began to understand;
And learned how to enjoy and control nature.
This was called the age of enlightenment.
Today these principles that allow us to live
In peace with the beasts of the forests;
The tides of the oceans, thunder and lightening.
Are inadequate to still our new fears, about
Religion, genetics and the new super-strains
Of viruses engendered by new wonder drugs.
We live again in a world of myth and magic.
This time man-made, and we are powerless.
A second enlightenment is now sorely needed.
So man can live in peace with his own creations.
Only through a new evolution of thought;
Can man conquer and enlighten his new fears.
Because our knowledge will always be limited.
While our ignorance will always be unlimited.
Feb 19, 2021
Feb 19, 2021 at 5:17 PM UTC
It is no wonder if I sing.
For love most strongly rules my heart.
For love I obey in all things.
Body and heart and mind and thought,
Love draws me with great force.
I look upon love as everything.
Life without love -- what is it worth?
Like a man whose heart is never fed;
Without love's sweet food is indeed dead.
God may your hatred never move.
So fierce against me that I may
Survive a month a single day.
And have no heart to sing for love.
It is indeed my belief;
When I see my love near;
I tremble visibly with fear.
Like a quivering leaf in the wind.
My weakness before love is such,
A child would have more sense than I.
Please my love have mercy on me.
Sweet is the wound your love does give.
Your love clobbers my heart.
I die a hundred times.
And revived a hundred times in joy!
Feb 18, 2021
Feb 18, 2021 at 4:31 PM UTC
Between the lines
of now and then,
you’re drawing me
with ink and pen.
Every ridge
and every curve
you’re carving out
what I deserve.
Tangled veins
and knotted hair,
a thunderstorm
of senseless care.
Between the breaths
of God and man-
You’re writing me
just as I am.
With fractured bones
and black-hole eyes,
painted purple,
ringed with lies.
All I am
is what you see
and what you make
is all I’ll be.
Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 8:43 PM UTC
"But, God I don't want comfort,
I want Poetry, I want danger,
I want lust, I want sin."
"In fact," said God, " you want
the right to be unhappy."
"All right, then, I'm claiming
the right to be unhappy."
I replied definitely.
" Also the right to grow old
and ugly and impotent; the
right to be lazy; the right to
look forward to a happier
tomorrow; the right to live
with unspeakable sins of
every kind."
"I claim them all." I said.
Then God shrugged his shoulders
and smiled and said.
"Your welcome."
Feb 15, 2021
Feb 15, 2021 at 10:52 PM UTC