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 Oct 14 Shang
Grace
fragrances
 Oct 14 Shang
Grace
spring is hardly sure it loves the summer sun,
till the wind is warm and fruitful.
uncertainty amongst strangers
Love is both muse and music
both poetry and purpose
a symphony of serendipity


The perfect love poem takes just minutes
to imagine
    but a lifetime to create
though words may flood your page
seek the source
love is the strongest force
        it exists beyond language
    is felt before touch
let your sentences be drenched
in intimacy
and punctuated by appreciation

Even when communication is nonverbal
let its essence be affection
     devotion
not only are run ons acceptable here
they are encouraged
marriage is not a life sentence
but an epic of possibilities

Adventure forward knowing that
the future is unknowable
but you are forging it   -   together
ellipses are waiting for you
you create time
   mold it to your will   -   together
trust the process
                              but also
trust each other
     to be auxiliary verbs in
       the act of loving

Seek understanding in your verses
             there is no winner
when existence is the goal
     co-existence
     co-creation
ego aside
be co-stars for the Virgo moon
live in the ease of each other
  even as cycles spiral around you
  even as you spiral around cycles
be the period that stands firm
                                                      for your partner
even under questioning

When line breaks feel like endings
   indent   and   reinvent
you are both forever changing
   so change together
   make edits together
it is a lie that brainstorms are
only the beginning
they will find you
in idle moments
  when the mind wanders
   raining down doubts
though ideas may blot your page
again seek source
  and what started your course

Write to each other
Write for each other

The perfect love poem takes just minutes
to draft
    but if you do it right
it is always under revision
even after you decide to publish
Desmond and Afrika
Happy Publishing Day
to one of the greatest love stories
   ever written

a poem written for a friend’s wedding. Celebrating the union of Desmond and Afrika. 9/28/24
 Oct 6 Shang
Poetoftheway
a lyric from Plaisir D’Amour (1),
these singed edged memories,
the grievous tingling tinge of
lost love,
last a  lifetime,
can reappear symptomatically,
with crystalline purity,
for longer then any ejaculatory
momentary spasmodic instant
joyous vibes of a hallelujah salutation

Grief, Why It Even Can:

erode away the smooth
s skin casing of years of
effective affection,
a long term construction project
of a million individual additions

why then
is pain so long lived,
grief never brief,
but deep rooted,
and pleasing data
so easily
overlooked, pushed away by the

“sharp edge of a short knife?”

why
does the low, slow beat of a sad song
bear down,
demands endless woeful
exhalation&repetition,
and
reversus,
the celebration tuning of a happy
days are here again,
an us, a wee-two-too~together,
always hummable but not
overly memorable?

I posit no solution
but whenever I think of
human
it is of the soft tissues outlining
our long bruised wounds of suffering,

that rise up
from deepest within
flooding the plains
of our thin~skinned senses
colliding and collectively
rendering us imbolized

do you have an answer?

cheap confess
do not know
no answer
but believe now
it is a
seasoned characteristic
that is genetic,
the sum of thousands of years of
the harsh
struggling of lives hard worked
where the life balance
is ar best a sometime thing,
*and the really real is
grief that lasts a lifetime
 May 12 Shang
Kafka Joint
Nothing can justify your silence,
Unless you really don't want to talk about it.
 May 12 Shang
S R Mats
As the sun colors flowers with an
Outward gold on leaves and petals
Bright and pastel like hand-painted blooms
With inward greening, they stand on delicate legs.
Time holds us in their exquisiteness.  As they
Gather us into the security of their beauty
We are warm and safe within this moment.
Who remembers your
last breath
That lead you down unto
death
Who was there watching by your side
The afternoon that you died
Where was the place your soul departed
Was it happenstance
or wholly hearted
Did anyone pray or bid farewell
Anything more than it's time to tell
Who glanced at watch and marked it down
When sudden silence looks
around
The minute , hour , day , month and year
There ends the journey from there to here .
A little while a little love
The hour yet bears for thee and me
Who have not drawn the veil to see
If still our heaven be lit above.
Thou merely, at the day’s last sigh,
Hast felt thy soul prolong the tone;
And I have heard the night-wind cry
And deemed its speech mine own.

A little while a little love
The scattering autumn hoards for us
Whose bower is not yet ruinous
Nor quite unleaved our songless grove.
Only across the shaken boughs
We hear the flood-tides seek the sea,
And deep in both our hearts they rouse
One wail for thee and me.

A little while a little love
May yet be ours who have not said
The word it makes our eyes afraid
To know that each is thinking of.
Not yet the end: be our lips dumb
In smiles a little season yet:
I’ll tell thee, when the end is come,
How we may best forget.
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