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I get lost in your kiss
                   Yet feel at home on your **lips
 Aug 2016 Mrs Mortician
Tia White
I look for you
In passing faces
A stranger's glance
In haunted places

I feel you among
Nature's grandest setting
It is you that I remember
Even when I'm forgetting

I see you wherever I go
In everyone I meet
Your words echo in conversations
That pass me on the street

Your soft, easy way
That safe familiar tone
That always takes me back
To a time long gone
I'm having tea with Life,
And his band of Disappointments.
They dine at my expense,
And they're a hungry bunch of guests.

Tea turned into Supper,
Where the Disappointments drank
My finest wine,
And Life wiped his cruel mouth
On my tablecloth.

You can't have supper without dessert,
So they ate up more of my
Food for thought.
And if you stay for dessert,
You may as well spend the night.
So they did
And burgled my pantry of hopes
For a midnight snack.

One night was lovely,
So Life cackled, "Why not stay two?"
And two turned to a week,
And a week turned into
My sickeningly merry guests
Moving into my dreams,
And inviting in Doubt,
To live with them too,
And of course
Pay no rent.

So I watch my chaotic household
Of a skull,
Where Life has made himself at home
And brought all of his friends.
I stare dully at my ruined
Dining room of thought,
Which they have dominated.
And look wearily for a spare idea
In my raided cupboards.

I've never been one
To evict friends,
So I suppose they're here to stay.
But learn a lesson from me,
And don't ever
Have Life over for tea.
To write poetry
you need to be born
You need to grow
consuming the energy of the sun
and the nourishment of
love

Years of change
hundreds of days
of pain, love,
sorrow, growth and
loss

A universe needs
to be born
out of the unknown darkness
before time ticked

Just so that we can write
a few elegant lines
a prose of our time
drifting, riding, on
Earth's dancing
orbit
"You touched my fingertips.
I felt it. My heart skipped a beat.
Taking hold of my hand. It stopped.
The high school child in me embraced
the playtime once again.
Sitting on a park bench thinking of our bleachers
at the Friday night football games.
Now we cheer for the pigeons as they fight
for the bread crumbs.
It's all so beautiful, only different times.
We are here still together, that's all that really
matters.
Beautiful to reminisce, grateful that
we can.
To kiss each others lips, and start our hearts
pumping once again."
My shade of blue is unlike yours ...
I remember differently as we walk down the same
country lane , process my pain in a private way
I watch for Bluebirds while you seek the Raven ,
pray for safe haven as you row the turbid ocean
Express myself openly while you hide in blanketed
angry emotion
Pining for sunlit deliverance while you castigate
the God given day
Catch my breath in gratitude while you begrudgingly
walk away* ....
Copyright July 13 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
I admit I do not understand
People staring at their hands

A tiny screen controls their eyes
Electronic lows and highs

Folks all wander to and fro
Directed by Pokémon Go

One's free will is all but dead
With Nintendo now deep in your head

It's great to be out in the sun
But, can you really call this fun

The best part though, I think to me
Is the collisions between man and tree
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