.
In dusk a cloud moves,
Barely are there any stars
And the sheet drops, sinks,
As lovers we came to this
Gentle pond without guile
Under the willows green,
Set on the banks of whin,
In sight of a stone bridge
And settled in to watch
The swans arrive and go,
Like windy arcs of bounty
Under great falling blanket
Of indigo and gold sparkling,
Enameling eyes of the heavens.

Now, I come to visit alone,
Only memories gliding slow,
Love has fled near after song
The sweetest spring awakening,
How time unveils dark truths,
My hair, it falls in the wind
With the groping willows,
The godly eyes of the skies
Are now mere stars that flash,
My love is betrothed to another,
Still, the cool white swans at dusk
Ride in waters turned shallow, murky
And black as their eyes in day fall,
And yet they remain wondrous,
White rose of my soul,
Drifting away.

Making Smiley faces with tattoo ink and safety pins
Putting childhood fridge drawn art on wasted skin
Finger paints and pasta shells were not artists but I'm sure we can't mess this one up, lines and dots wonky smiles and tired eyes
The face your parents make don't look so bad compared to there youthful mistakes
Sentenced to hard time
Full sleeves before nap time
Tattooed tears down your face cursing the ones who left you in this place

She was his moon,
his muse.
It was her name he moaned
when his heart was pierced
by Eros'
enchanted arrow.

It was her
that danced on his mind.
Her eyes and hair
he thought of every time.
But she'll never know;
She's the cause of his sorrow.

For she is lovable
but he isn't.
She's everything good in this world
and he's everything you do but mustn't.
His own kingdom he'll overthrow
just to see her again tomorrow.

-m.b

.          Seized by the moment,
          the gravity of a memory
           lay closed the window
             to the outside world

               Eyelids surrender
            in the breath of a sigh,
         the silent pacing footsteps
unable to walk beyond their shadow
       nor their footprints left behind,

      never needing to turn around
               to look back to feel
      the weight of every laden step
         across the old Arch Bridge
        spanning the river far below

             The cold wet sidewalk
         rumbles like the throbbing
              heartbeat still echoes ,..
                     resoundingly,
           through the muted voices
          of a past buried away alive

                 Halted footsteps
           become a blacker silence
                  at the precipice
     of the Arch Bridge railing ties;
   revisited deeply with eyes closed,
         wide open so many times
                 before  and  after
  that  long abhorred day since past

   Reliving an old noir silent movie,
       tarnished time and the river
              coursing through it,
    remaining unable to wash away
    the stains of that watermark tide

                 Standing   frozen
      as a weatherworn bridge tower,
  high above raging waters far below
feeling a cold chill, empty as a pocket,
            perpetual teardrops flow
  filling an empty thimbleful with love

           A thimble seems so small;
               just a pitted silver cup
       to shield from a piercing pang,
              and yet  a welling  love
             uncommonly  overflows ―
        tossed over the bridge railing
             toward the river below
       to see if hope really does float

            Seized by the moment,
          a random act of kindness
            and a thimbleful of love,..
                    lay open again
            a pensive soul's window
                to the outside world ...


                 rivers ... 11/06/2017

I've spent a year trying to find myself
And I still haven't checked behind the couch
They say the hardest parts reversing
But I find ease in loosing ground
Maybe I'm just not trying hard enough
But my mind's filled with the same amount of optimism as doubt
I'm just a sum you'll never properly work out
The irony
In you'll find it in the last place you'll look
So I checked my old CDs because they always gave a ****
Follow a track list to a simplified time
Where my only crime
Was listening to songs about the devil and a realist life