I watched as ink thrashed
beneath paper eyes,
raged like rapids ripping
'midst her reservoirs release,

Fathomless yearning
frothed
between echoless lines
in forgotten vignettes
where metaphors waltz wounds
across eternity.

My frayed strings
moan forlorn notes
between morbid chasms,
as lackluster lips limp
over rusted words,
eloquent verses etched
beneath lonely quests,
devoid spoken warmth.

As my trembling voice
meets her muted words,
subconscious prays within,
asking silence
if poetry can come to life.....

                                And love again......

The days embrace their hollow fate
     as night embalms the lost
and faint visage coagulates
     beneath her permafrost,
just starless skies to beautify
     the black beneath the blue
as truth becomes a lullaby
     the heart cannot subdue

The winds of change are cold indeed,
     Bereft the heart's advice.
They bite the soul as memoirs bleed
     through untold sacrifice.
The bandages, but silhouettes
     of what I used to be,
the fractured forms of old vignettes
     I've hidden perfectly.

The rhythemed flow, but symmetry
     Adorning broken form,
just vestiges of clarity
     adrift amid the storm
and somewhere 'neath it's gelid rain
     the answers stain the ground
with words the heart can't ascertain
     and feelings that confound.

As semblance fades amid the lull,
     before the coming eve,
an echo squirms within my skull
     where dreams have taken leave,
a remnant left in aftermath
     of storms within the heart
where lonely men accrue the wrath
     of love they watched depart.

As tones of dusk embrace the dawn
beneath a harvest moon,
his thoughts relive the moments gone,
the lyrics 'midst his tune
and somewhere deep beneath the beat
he's carried through the years,
the echoes speak of rhythmed feet,
resigned the end is near

A gleam enflames his tired eyes
as rev'ries roam his soul,
and somewhere past their lullaby,
he hearing church bells toll
as truths invade the peaceful calm
and settle 'pon his mind,
a maelstrom made of timeless qualm
and memoirs redefined.

From whence they came, to fade away
as aons redesign
bereft a chance, like night and day
to once again align
and still, he knows, beyond a doubt
the worth he's vested there,
what life is really all about,
the seconds often shared.

As tones of dusk embrace the dawn
beneath a harvest moon,
his thoughts relive the mem'ries drawn,
the journey fraught with boons,
and somewhere deep beneath the beat
he's carried through the years
he knows he's lived a life, complete
through joyfulness and tears.