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Crow Aug 2018
words hanging out together
down at the corner

doing nothing
saying nothing

getting in the way
begging for attention

some spend so much time together
they start to rhyme

some just lay there
bad poetry is everywhere

glad I don’t write bad poetry
uh oh ….
I read that tomorrow August 18 is bad poetry day This is not intended to reference anyone here. Or anywhere else for that matter. Just for fun.
Crow Aug 2018
Place all my memories in a row
From old to fresh and new
There is one certain thing I know
From first to last they’ll be of you

From newborn cry to fading light
Each reflection which breaks through
Burns in mind's eye with image bright
And remembrance of you

To search the halls of Mnemosyne
To seek what there is true
From moonlit night to sun washed day
Each thought I find will be of you

Should I on life’s love reminisce
And choose each echo to pursue
All of my muse would come to this
My one pure dream has been of you
Crow Aug 2018
Are the leaves of autumn less glorious than spring
Does the sun shine less brightly past noon
Is night’s cloak less adorned or illumined
By the light of a full harvest moon

Has the sea lost its romance and mystery
Since man first beheld the shore
Have the stars in the heavens given up their fire
Do we long for their wonder no more

Is the game at its midpoint determined
Is intermission the end of the play
Is the vision of the sculptor truly revealed
In the unfinished half molded clay

Is a woman in full flower less alluring
Than a girl in the first bloom of life
Is the naïve young maiden more enticing
Than the woman who is mother and wife

No familiarity need not breed contempt
And beauty is not coupled to youth
For the woman who has lived, in all that she is
Reveals this magnificent truth
Crow Aug 2018
My first memory is of you
I move with halting steps
Of feet new to walking
Towards a window of a little house

Looking out on an approaching storm
The air is still and heavy
Pressing everything down to the earth
Like a photograph
In which only I have motion

Heat takes away all relief
Even from the shade
Skin always damp with sweat
Silence smothers all thought of sound

No voices, no music, no birds
The endless shurring of the insects
Has been suppressed in anticipation
With a promise of the storm’s cool kiss

Blue and gray mix in the sky
Prophecy of your eyes
Still so far away
I am looking past the storm
Even then I am looking for you

Waiting for you
I have known you
Before that feverish, soundless day
Before all my days began

I knew you
I loved you
Now I wait
To be with you again
Crow Jul 2018
If you will take anything
Take only my heart
For poor as it is
I have nothing else of worth

If you speak
Speak to it gently
For it is ignorant of all things
Save love for you

If you journey
Carry it carefully
For it overflows
With need for you

If you wish to keep it
Forever it is yours
For it can never
Fit the hands of another

If you go
Do not return it
For I will have no need
Of an empty heart
Crow Jul 2018
Measure my love in starlight
And set the sky ablaze
Measure my love in words
And eternal speak my beloved’s praise

Measure my love in raindrops
And overflow the seas
Measure my love in sighing
And make storms from a summer breeze

Measure my love in music
And hear all the world’s choirs sing
Measure my love in riches
And make every pauper a king

Measure my love in heartbeats
And deafen every ear
Measure my love in laughter
And banish every tear

Seek to measure my love as some might wish
By consulting the learned or wise
But each effort will fail, because such a scale
No mortal thought can devise
Crow Jul 2018
She cannot see her beauty
It’s hidden by the lies
She cannot see her luminous skin
Or the starlight in her eyes

Her incandescent smile she cannot discern
Nor glimpse heaven with autumn hair
She finds no bloom in her rose kissed lips
The mirrors scorn she cannot bear

She loathes her form, her gaze only shows
Repellent, gross, uncouth
But the Maker’s hand has glorious woman shaped
If she could only see the truth

Her splendor revealed is radiance unbound
Making others seem weak and pale
And though Elysium descried, she sightless remains
Concealed by a hideous veil

I’ll wage my war against hell’s deceit
That her vision could be set free
And one day her eyes would be opened
To the beauty she cannot see

— The End —