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Sep 27 · 37
Artisan Row
WL Schuett Sep 27
Salt heavy on the wind
of Gods grief.
Death on the tracks
more than a feeling
so vague and ethereal.

My eyes were 
locked and loaded
with steel and gin .
I felt the rattler
stirring in my blood.
The echoes of a
thousand screams
soaked in the skin
of my *****.

Reeds thick in the shallows
wall off the blood
made of darkness.
A pale blue smokey haze
of sadness, strength and grace .

I struck a match
on infinities smile .
Half a hundred candles
burned in prayer .

Floating to the surface
of Artisan Row
to take my dying slowly.
Sep 19 · 35
Scars of Hope
WL Schuett Sep 19
Natural innocence
and simplicity,
a glorious arc
of rainbow charity.
The pulling of silk
through the loom,
a magnificent child
of the storm.

Holding pureness
feeling my love
without knowing.
Asleep at the wheel
of just being born .
The silence was deep ,
sweet and sad .
Her every breath was
a provision of
sacred order .

I had an absolute
vision ,
a prelude of silent
music .
The wind sang
sweet melodies
born of time
and starlight.

The music asked questions
of the breeze,
to butterflies and angels .
But , was answered in
a thunderous storm.

Disintegrating realms
of hope .
Who will advocate for
a beloved soul .

Life’s wounds move on
but , we are left
with the scars .
Sep 17 · 52
Inside Out
WL Schuett Sep 17
A single lonely Sparrow cries.

He will never be back
from infinity .
Apprenticeshipped in the
guild of disaster.
He slipped through the mist
and into the darkness .

The intensity of dreams
the banditry of ideals
The insane factory of
covert conclusions.
Fragments of wisdom .
Music lost in a
time continuum.
It should have been his
time to judge the fury
of the wildflowers in a storm .
Unnerved by silence
I watch from a house
without words .

An innocent, cruelly
struck by fate .
He was a friend
of Dorothy’s
and a friend of mine .
He will never see the rainbow
from the inside out .

A sensitive man
draws ire .
He was where the butterflies
and the Angels come
to be born .

He lived from the inside out .

Comfort in remorse .
Torment in conscience.
Regret in waves of
aching emotions.
I cry for atonement
and a salve
for my soul .

That mysterious light
that came from him .
Also came me and from
everywhere and everything.
But , I just could not see ,
Inside out !
Sep 11 · 202
Sleepy Dreams Fade
WL Schuett Sep 11
Window shades half open
a warm summer breeze.
Soft conversations
drifting up from the street.

Smoke from a candle
feather pillows
and lace .

Spiced wine , red apples,
cool satin sheets.
The touch of lace on
sweet hidden delights.

Deep velvet music
soft , soulful and blue .
Cool beads of sweat
like mornings first dew.

Sleepy dreams fade
from a deep sated sleep .
As morning creeps in
through the window
like a thief.
Aug 29 · 61
Second Truth
WL Schuett Aug 29
The trail ahead was stacked
high with thunderclouds
that never came their way .

They rode the ridge where
the flowers faded.
Where it did not matter
that they knew no names .

They built a fire
under the Milkyway
by an avenue of quiet trees .

When she laughed
the dancing flames
were trapped in her eyes
and from behind she heard
him smile.

Lost on the borders of heaven .
A quickening of the moonlight .
The limitless depth of color .
Her hot breath on his face .

After a while
she slept in his arms .

Two people who met too late .
Maybe years ago under
a thinner moon
and a wider meadow.
The flowers would not
have had to fade .

Doubt settled heavily
but , no shame .
Certainly no shame
only a false rainbow.

He wrote with a layer
of words underneath
the words that only
she would understand.

She can listen to forever
relative to the quicksand
of the Cosmos.
Born through time
into infinities energy .

A second truth to the wind .
Aug 20 · 3.1k
Fireflies and Lace
WL Schuett Aug 20
She is a hive full of
But , never far from
the sting .

“I see you “ she smiles
as she touches my face .

Upstairs she lies
with coverlets and curtains.

I am searching
and searching.
But , for what
I’m not sure .

Maybe diamonds
but probably
Fireflies and Lace .

Working towards not
losing my shadow.

My inertia’s held
to her beauty
my moral vision
called and questioned.
The death of leaves ,
stranded on the high wire
in the back of beyond.
Jul 12 · 84
Spyglass of Fire
WL Schuett Jul 12
A prisoner of memories
locked in the shallows
of the past .
A true dissenter of the war
on my conscience education.
A burning freight car
keeps haunting my dreams.

A spyglass
destiny of fire .
More energy spent
unlearning than learning.
Living life toiling
in enemy territory.

Sweetly decadent this
flesh and blood woman .
Feminine as lace
lyrical and ferocious,
exquisite and dangerous.
Unintended consequences of
the violence of religion,
a famine of spirituality.
The terrible separation of faith.

The poet ablaze
with the poetry of fire.

The laurel has withered
in the talons of the dove .
The sun rose as they danced
over the renegade landscape.
Nine stones surrounding
the olive branch that’s broken.

Confessions of evil,
lightning and lace .
Jul 1 · 62
Scar Tissue
WL Schuett Jul 1
A crack in the mirror
skewers my reflection.
A world spinning
around me
trying to calm it down.

A fragment of a memory
going nowhere
lacking detail and rhythm.

Hot desert night
candles on the gravestones
A scar on his forehead
in the shape of a cross.

Dreams tattooed with
leaves and whisky.
Razor blades served
with printed instructions.

The worm in the bottle
has magical powers .
Better any day than
a bittersweet message.

Free will a desperate illusion
one which guides our way .
We are all aligned like
the moon and stars
Into the sightless
cruelty of fate .

Standing in the doorway
of the alleyway of fog .
If you ever loved me he cries
show me the shadow
of your mercy .

A vortex lost  in the
black hole of shadows.
The place where silence
was born
in the blood of atonement.

Born ****** in the heat
of the heartland.
The prophet rises in the
swirling dust
raises his arms
and screams .

I try to set the
screams to music .
Jun 25 · 83
Rouge Elegance
WL Schuett Jun 25
Gentle in her oil lamp sleep.
Boat lights glimmer
on the black water tides .
She was sure she had
figured out the patterns
of the currents .
Till a rouge wave
shifted her world
in concussive clouds of storms.

Her teachings were
of mercy and solicitude.
Yet she was a locked door
with a broken key.

A thunder spider in the
heart of a moon worshiper .
She slips from
wrath and vengeance
to mercy and forgiveness.

Throughout the eyeless night
Touched by God
Secret severe covenants
with beguiling elegance
stationed beneath the
Veranda of lost causes ,
She sleeps softly.
Her freedom was bought
with the blood of others .
May 21 · 158
Solemn Revelations
WL Schuett May 21
The shade on the window
kept the morning outside.
Garish , grey and miserable
Christ looks down
from the wooden crucifix
on the wall .
Instead of rejoicing
She shudders
from unending revelations .

A small gurgling creek
wrapped around fortitude.
Blue and purple wildflowers
by the musical water in splays .

Travel to the left
of the fork
till starlight hits the dirt .
Thorns of the rose
Violets without.

Intimacy with no submission
strength to strength
in a night
without questions.
No respite
part love
part war .

Her eyes had the look
Of a smile fading.
Beyond her realm ,
a darkness .

A solemn stone castle
burns a midnight blue .
May 10 · 55
Quiet Lion
WL Schuett May 10
Snow falling through
a hole in the roof.
Blue lights in
a Thousand castles.

Through the door
that no longer opens
the Quiet Lion
still speaks .

My Fathers whispers
still ring in my ears.
Through a house full of dust
and windows made of Stone .

Barefoot at the waters edge
trapped forever in the slack tides.
Something inside has broken
I know it will never heal .

Into the kiss of the summers heat
The rumble of the brown Earth.
The rhythm of the gentle waves.
A tolling of a lonesome bell.
In the swirl of the quiet light.
His name always on the wind.

May the Angels speak
the Ancient whispers
and sooth the Quiet Lion.
Say his name for peace .
Mar 30 · 255
Shadow of Thunder
WL Schuett Mar 30
Searching a dirt and gravel road
in the half light .
Seeking any presence of the Lord
from the shadow of the wind .

Parched and dusty walking alone
Counting every rock and
Every blade of grass .
Compassions heartbeat
the shadow of my teachers .

Feeling a Thousand years old
yet struggling to be reborn .
Five minutes to midnight
from the shadow of the turning.

Taking a journey through
the center of my heart .
A voyage beyond
the shadow of my soul .

Wanting answers to forever
is each rock really numbered
along with every blade of grass ?
From the shadow of my
darkest hours
to the shadow of my
In the shadow of my faith
and the shadow of my mercy
Comes the shadow of my
Love .

I am stepping out over
the bridge
acrossed the shadow
of still water .
As thunder slips behind .
Mar 20 · 48
Quiet Obsession
WL Schuett Mar 20
She was born in a perfect
moment in a garden of roses.
She was always more
North Star than lover .
She grew up in the
watchfires of the mystic .
She envoked the beauty
not given to nihilistic angels
arguing over hell .

The suns first rays
fingered their way
out onto the dusty road
where forbidden love
ambushed me and
held me through my
long season of redemption.

Grace and quietude found
Me then .
In her rapt absorbtion
of prayer, She smiled .

Silent as smoke from
the wood stove .
She was sorrow in
the moon swollen tides
But , She would cry
no more tears .

My hours of creation
reap death from
the lack of true

Tap on my window
knock on my door .
She is the music
of my immortal soul .

With an awkward grace
She finds me in
my shallow creek.
I can say no more.
WL Schuett Mar 11
There is no release from
sorrow as I cry.
Breaking the treaty
of silence of the
Ancient grieving.
Antilight remains a
dark secret
in the night garden.

Her words had The sweetness
of Honey that only
Wild bees can make .

I often call on god
to explain
but , I get no answers.
He bellows a silence that
I think comes
far too easily.
I receive abundant nothingness,
as it is a hard god
that dried up my prayers
and let me move on
to where my rivers run deep
with drown desire.

I grew up in a house
painted the color of a Bakery .
On a street named after the town
that Bakery is in .

I feel myself drawn
back to the beginnings
catching Salamanders ,
Tadpoles and barefoot
Girls hearts .
Pepe barked and baseballs flew
As the wild Bees
made Honey.

Now I live in a house
the colors of the Bakery
in reverse .
I pick up leaves and
make tracks in the snow
shaped like peace signs .
And I search for that
elusive wild Honey.

Willow barks and
memories fly .
I find my comfort
in my realm of circles .
Until the Universe
finds me and
calls me Home.
Mar 10 · 153
Love Asleep
WL Schuett Mar 10
The longing again
showed up in
visceral force.
Quiet as a shadow .
Thunder through my eyes.
A story lost
worth telling .

Warm wine
in the summer market.
Sunstains and
purple shadows.
Red trellised roses
on the quick.

A galloping white horse .
A ladder over a wall
of carvings.
A bridge to a
morning duel.

Chains on the prisoners.
Locks on love asleep .
Soulless mercy ignites
the bonfires of yearning.

Homemade shutters
capture the mirrors.
A pledge to a broken god .

With loves protection lost
it’s the end of the
Feb 26 · 147
A Thousand Gulches
WL Schuett Feb 26
Abandoned in the night
and lost forever
in the gulches of a dream .

She cries for the words
that touch her being.
Her tears stain the shadows
and dampen the winds
for a thousand days .

She protects her heart
avoiding those
in need of comfort .
She is the tolling bell
hidden inside a storm .

One more time she
cracks the door of loneliness.
Seeking beauty stoked
inside a paper moon.

Flames flicker in the
foggy ruins of time .
She is lost in the waiting
and fooled by
sleight of hand .

Crying over a poem
from a strangers pen ,
in a Thatchers hut she weeps .

Her path is lined
with short shrubs
and colored bottles .
Her path is long
but rocky and curved .

Into the gulch besides
her path
She shovels the
abandoned remnants
of her dream .
Feb 26 · 61
Shadow of the Arrow
WL Schuett Feb 26
Saw the shadow of the arrow
Felt the kiss of the feather .
Saw the eye of the Sparrow
As the fog of memories lift .
Stolen sunlight ,
Hidden moonlight.
Felt the weight of melancholy
Arch through
The minkhole of faded dreams .

Saw the trees dance
Into the morning.
Swathed In heavenly light .
Saw their echo bounce
Off the future .
Felt the birds
remember the wind.
Earthen nerves ,
Silent Springs .
Felt the noose slide down
from the mantle .
Into the astrodust
On the floor .

Saw the bow pulled back
on the morning.
Felt morose as the arrow
flew by us all .
Nov 2018 · 825
Looming Smile
WL Schuett Nov 2018
Deep on the other side
of the loom .
The other side of
a dangerous smile.
Stands the one who
knows all my lurid secrets .
Barefoot in a homespun dress
one hand against the wall.

Water runs shallow
over the rocks
across the fields .
Crickets chirping in the
cool night air .
A thousand moments
swirl over us .
An ancient wind carries
our secrets.
Rolling waters ,
crickets in our ears
suddenly we were young
and in the mountains again.

Broken compromise
and forgiveness
to balance the passion
and the need .
Blood and roses ,
a sweet kiss from
the dragon .

Laughter is the lyric,
Love is the music
a watershed melody
that never gets old .

We are lost in the
recession of time .
As three quiet birds
try to throw shadows
on our love .
Oct 2018 · 710
Tears Of Thorns
WL Schuett Oct 2018
Quiet light breaks the fields .
Played out a thousand
times untold .
Lost in the ceremony
of fire .

She stood naked in the hours
and wept with no tears .
Trying to make herself
beneath the thorns of the
rose .

Surreal in a moonless night .
Born to the world
in the light of a candle.
Surrounded by the quiet
verbs of kindness.

Her voice was without seasons
ringing bells not heard
in any church .
Waging war on emptiness,
darkness and
storms of despair.

She could make words
Sing or bleed ...
sometimes both .

She read my poetry like it
was her own private orchard
with fruit she couldn’t
wait to taste .

I knew there was a majestic
obscured by clouds of thunder.
Coastal tides shed their skins
and danced in the inland forest .
She seized onto the light
of her singularity
and finally brought
forth her tears .
For my lovely friend
to recognize her talent
as a poet a thousand times untold .
Oct 2018 · 1.1k
Estotic Return
WL Schuett Oct 2018
Born into dawns spark
of suspicion .
Following faiths track
to eternity.
Questioning the rails
I traipse .

She knows the clouds
crashes in the rocks
refrain .
Yet she fights for the
equality of senses .

We meet at the summit
of a lonely dreamscape ,
with flowers and nymphs
beautiful and armorous .

At the trees spire
we found meaning
as treasonous
blossoms return .
Dripping from loves
estotic comeback
nectar running down
her leg .

While her ballad is
written on ancient winds .
Sung as tragic owls
slip the spires
and wander the
broken fields .

While I lay dying
into dusks arresting
berth of acceptance .

She floats above
the crashing rocks
of freedom .
Oct 2018 · 889
Road Of Peace
WL Schuett Oct 2018
Road of peace
The tranquil poverty
of my soul .

Seeking an atonement
for the souls of the dead
on smoking paths .

Whispered words drift
into the tidal coves
of imagination.
Infinitely sad
the lost echo
of the echo.
A wrecked angel
of honor lost .

With a blade forged
in the fires of
disturbing experiences .
Through the noises
of trying to be quiet .

Lost in you in the shattered rain
I will be your Captain .

Captain of the side channels
the spaces between the
lines of the slow dreams .

She was one who
would be reborn
in a vibrant silence .

An unpredictable
ebb and flow
of rolling thunder
and eerie stillness.
A paradise reeking
of hidden meanings .

Jousting between
the waves and
the timberlands
was the almighty
quiet verb .
Sep 2018 · 360
Fierce Freedoms
WL Schuett Sep 2018
Ancient ruins,
Sacred truths .
Notions of thunder ridges.
Can her calling be
fever free ?

I whisper on the
high banks of noon .
A Cardinals whistle
is unlike a trains
yet each move past me
in evocative tones .
The sound of glass .
Simple vibrations
in the ether .

It was an early church
that sheltered the grave
of the one who
sent us home .

There are Fierce freedoms
holding me in orbit .
That help me step forward
and stand up .

I read in husky whispers
and am amazed
by how she glows
like the moon
through the clouds .
Jul 2018 · 150
The Tormented Rose
WL Schuett Jul 2018
Stepping to the crashing rain
calling her name in
ecstasy and despair.
Trying to love in
the half light of
the soothing sounds
of the long vowels .
Never getting near the
other side of forever .

A decision made
a bridge finally burned.
Hidden behind those
tormented eyes,
a bleeding rose
scorched by fire .

She ripped out an oath
and involuntarily shuddered .
Releasing her fires
so far beyond pleasure .
The ecstasy of innocence
flashed in her eyes ,
those soft brown eyes
intelligent and romantic .
Two seared , burnt
roses of desire .

Lightening splits the darkened sky
and kindles the flame
in her breast .
May 2018 · 152
Temporal Faith Floats
WL Schuett May 2018
Mysterious and lunar
Purged of all the
benefits of magic .
She envoked
the quiet ecstasy of
mystical prayer .

A gentle feather lost
in a teardrop .
Temporal words
walked her back
from the edge .

Bloodied by a thorn
from a yellow rose .
Buried deep in the
paltry light
that silhouettes her hair .
Looking at the
soft edge of dawn .
Knowing how much
I’ve surrendered
forever bereft of
the darkness .

I felt the melodies
of faith
and lost her at
the renegade first light .
So religious the fury
of the extinction of hope
beautifully expressed
but slow to comprehend
she handed me a Bible .

I struggle Forth into
the artillery of knowledge
listening to the dark
matter of
crucifixtion music .

Her story moves forward
through the stream
of time on thin ice .
Lost in the pale harmony
of the grandeur
of madness.

She believes she’ll sink
into that ethereal stillness
of Dawn .
I believe her soul will float .
Apr 2018 · 182
Promise Land
WL Schuett Apr 2018
Remembered sensations
of cut stained glass dawns .
Rich in the embers of
fires from time passed .
Kissed in fury
Lost in tenderness.

The softness
The sweetness
The never diminished
Strafe of femininity.
A gentle peacemaking
roll of thunder .
Surveying the land
for promises kept .
Startled by glimpses
of echoed rememberances .

She was soft and eager
with a dangerous
primitive desire.
A hopeless appeal to
her lawlessness.
With no direction
she turned the corner
abandoning pride
neither giving nor taking .

As he’s finishing a painting
He wonders
would he hear from her again .
Mar 2018 · 219
Hope Missed
WL Schuett Mar 2018
The power of words
on the distraught
I am happy to dance
with the language
Being part of something
vast and unknown
Like a lost poet searching
For a poem yet to be written
Hope can hide in the silence
Abstract yet passionate

I swallowed the dust
of time out of mind
hidden within me
haunted by the light
Searching for hope
in the power of a friend
Shouting I miss you
but hearing nothing
But agony in the echoes

I’ve found that nothing
soft endures
the sweetest songs are over
far too quickly
If love will find it’s own way
In it’s own time
Maybe then the soft
will endure

I hear a knock on the door
As the Angels float in the corner
Answering a strange beauty
found in willful solitude
a secret conveyance of love
Starting my dance with
the imagery of hope
I struggle to find something
more beautiful than a
Mar 2018 · 4.3k
Hushed Comfort
WL Schuett Mar 2018
The stars try to shine
Down through indifferent clouds.
Her tears mix with rain
and water her path
defining the moments
Of forever.
Love is the fiercest part
of her being.
Though she struggles to
find it’s authenticity
Hiding her codes
behind barbwire and thorns.
Her hands are bloodstained
in the hours of time.
She is mysterious
With many latitudes
Calling from a different
Kind of universe.
Yet she walks that path of stones
Believing she is a different
Person than the one she leaves
on the trail .

Walking away from that
Hushed comfort of
understated majesty.
Hearing music amid
The squalor of verse
With strangers who love
among the poetic’s
of language.

I grow tired of the
Deep waters
I’m learning to navigate
the shallows
Where purring oratory
Captures me and leaves
Me spellbound beyond
All measures and time .
Mar 2018 · 307
Songbirds Shadow
WL Schuett Mar 2018
Night colloquies of heartless
Predatory growls
And the soulful cries of prey .

The shadow between us
raged with hellfire .
Burning fields of voiceless thunder
Unpainted houses,
Ministries of snakes .
Enchanted pond flowers
Ritualistic smokescreens
Put blood in your eyes
Eating songbirds for eternal life .
Saved !
An innocent surrendered
To a shutterless window .

The false fire in your belly
Is speaking in tongues,
Swaying in wraith
To a sermon knocking on
A door forever locked
By ethereal stillness .
Weeping in post ******
Ceremonies of a
Forest with a thousand eyes
Where Everyone is prey .

Feasting on innocence
And ignorance.

Soft wanton evil growls.
The Songbirds shadows drift
Stolen from the souls
Of previous times .
Mar 2018 · 516
Laughters Lost Echo
WL Schuett Mar 2018
Trying to heal a broken spirit
Damaged by loss
and in search of purpose.

Echoing richness in
Peripheral thoughts.
Crying for atonement in
each anguished breath .
Knowing this is our precious life
Even if any soft places
remain well hidden .

Fleeing outside to disappear
into the seven streets of Antioch
Asking for a God to save me
Cutting the fool , with prayer.
Losing the trust of the world
As bells rattle the belfries.

Ideals were put to the torch
Sequoit creek smelled
Rich and dark
With sweet sentimentality
Creative vibrancy and
My loves lost laughter .

Nothing happens that has no meaning
All of our experiences connect
Our lives
Through the open window of time
Into the nuisances that move the tides , paint the terra cotta steps with snow and
steal the deserts wind .

I make an incantation
for mercy
Un reconciled to suffering
Waiting to be cleansed of the unknowable .
The uncaring and indifferent
Stars watch from above .
Like fate .
In a mysterious biblical betrayal
Laughter fled and
Became a spider
Lost in the snow .
Mar 2018 · 433
Raining Heart In Silence
WL Schuett Mar 2018
She listened as
the silence filled her being .
She knew the flowers were broken
as was the stillness in the woods.
Malice of Starlight.
Brittle with frost ,
in the naked night of dreams
Her lava flowed
In an unrelenting
Quiet fire of silence .

She needed a resurrection
As her storm broke volcanic.
With a simple but deadly logic
She hung on the moon .
A raining heart plucked
From a midnight stream of wraith .

As her stream rushed darkly
Beneath a meadow of ****** white
The eastern sky started to glow .
A whisper in the air ,
A softening light
Troubadours abound
and sing her sad song .

Her soft whisper was first
felt on the last coast of midnight
A wounded soul,
highly wrought pain .
An owl flew low and hid
by the lonely crippled creek .

Past the quivering lips of dawn
a bitter seed erupts
Like the falling bliss
of an ancient creed .
Epic silence
Except for the crunch
As she steps to the grass .
Mar 2018 · 207
Lurid Rites
WL Schuett Mar 2018
Strewn with age old sorrow
Of the poor and the helpless.
Listening to church bells
And children’s voices
On the wind .

Descending into the swirl of haunting melodies.
Reminiscent of smoke
And darkness .
Her hair was kindled beneath
The aria of dawn .

She celebrated the pleasures
Of the flesh
Of religious lurid rites
Of lusts eloquence.
She wept for the lost magic
In a waning light
Of a primeval forest .
Before trees and fire
Had names .

She searched for a lost
Secret language
That would unlock
Her mysteries.

She carry’s an implacable
Sorrow from childhood.
Her truth was deep
Introvert able sadness.

There was no sacrament
This day ,
No absolution.
Only a rose on fire .
Mar 2018 · 292
Leaking Clock
WL Schuett Mar 2018
There was nothing hidden inside
No dreams ,
No compromises
It couldn’t be more over .
Sages of broken promises
Down from the mountains
Lost in the rough country.
Hoping for answers to the questions
That have no answers .
Beneath a handsome , lonely old tree .
She couldn’t quite **** him
But, she died a little herself .

Fear was stuck so deep in her heart ,it could not be dislodged .
How to move her anger
past her fear .
He kept her from something
she knew was her pride .

Sowing seeds of despair
Crying tears of regret
So ******* but can’t quite
cut the rope

In love she trusts ,
Broken branches of
Damaged comfort.
Desolate darkness prevails
Black widow answers
To the cinch of the rope .

From another lifetime
Inside a clock that leaks the future .
There is a language
That rolls down from the mountains
That is calling her home .
Mar 2018 · 383
Equally Kissed
WL Schuett Mar 2018
She walks in the cool mountain air.
Her imagination cannot be concealed or reined in.
She hikes in dawns first light
And dusks last breath
But, even beauty has its limits

Life stabs her in places
Only hope really knows .

In the soft light of an
Early moon
From her swirling Smokey dream
an undertone
You can barely hear .

Into the backwaters of
spiritual rigor and solitude .
Vaguely off balance
Kissed with regret .
Slaying words
Like petals flayed
From the softest rose
Inert and harmless
She rolls over.
A Psalm of praise
To beauty .

But like fire made
of ice
It masks the arc
Of illusion and
Shields the proclamation
Of amnesty.
Of an equally enthralling
And dangerous Woman .
Mar 2018 · 377
Key of Sands
WL Schuett Mar 2018
The dry leaves a whisper
In the cool night air .
The future lurking
Face to face with the moon .
He drank in her sigh.
Inhaled .
This night must last till
there is no tomorrow.
No thorns .
No tears.

Feeling a pleasant stir
Darkness faded and
slipped into perspective.
Ocean dancers dream
The music of the sands .
The young optimistic
The old find acceptance
In dreams that have
Gathered dust .

Spiritually bloodied and beaten
The morning was chaos
In a minor key .
In the waiting air of
The storms eye .
The old growth forest
waded into the shallows
As the wind moaned
like a salty cello .

The flag of her life
was set at half mast .
Following a path
Of fire ,
Of ice .

Listening to the song
of the angels.
Carried on the ancient
winds of sorrow.
She knew all the secret places
between right and wrong .

The angels song was
one of tears
That lightly pushed the waves
Over the thorns .
He ran back from the morning
Fighting the odds of the elements.
She was indegenous as the
roots upheaved from a  withered oak .

A wave of desolate fury
Inside a sea of

The journey is not over .
Mar 2018 · 308
WL Schuett Mar 2018
From the threshold of my dreams
Deeply dampened by shame
Clouded by fears
Educated, but colloquial be ******
Trying to keep the door cracked open

Weeping for a woman I did not know
From a time I am not from
Quiet pride and pretty grace
Drenched in the purest sorrow
She was righteous among
The chosen

Not a lot of noise as I
Pass through the years
Though I feel the earths vibration
I feel the blood of the earth
Clouded by the winds desperate vision
I am looking for the promises
I need to believe

As I exit from my dreams
Through the crack in the door
Maybe I am ready to make
Some noise

— The End —