Minstrel of the Blue Moon

Jan 2016

Legion

How To Love a Girl Who Can't Love Herself

one.

    When she cries herself to sleep
    six out of seven nights a week you must
    say nothing. You must simply take
    her in your arms and kiss her gaunt,
    pale cheeks and wait for her to
    slumber at the sound of your heart.

two.

    On the days where she wishes she
    were part of the stars, tell her
    no. Tell her that there are too many
    lights in the sky and that just one
    would be forgotten the moment you looked
    away from it. Tell her that she is perfect
    the way she is: completely human.

three.

     Don't let her think about the scars
     that no one but her can see. If she
     says "I think I'm broken" smile like you
     know a secret and say, "No, you're mending."
     But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
     must be the one to do it herself, and you
     merely are there to quietly encourage her.

four.

     Read her poetry (even if you are
     not a poet), the kind that uses
     flowery words and compares girls to
     the moon; the kind that you will
     rewrite for her. Make her a warrior.
     Make her a goddess with eyes like a
     wolf's and a smile like a tiger's.

five.

     Laugh with her the first thing in
     the morning and the last thing before
     you fall asleep. Tell her cheap puns
     that you've been thinking of for weeks.
     And when she smiles - the type of smile
     that could bring you to your knees if
     you aren't careful - know that for the
     moment, she's yours. She is whole.

six.

    Love her. Love her like a fish loves
    the sea or a bird loves the sky. Love
    her in the way that your heart feels like
    it's going to burst at any moment every
    time it beats. Love her skin and the way
    it feels against your own, soft and warm
    and utterly flawless. Love her for the way
    her voice trembles when she can't keep it
    together anymore and love her when she
    holds onto you as if you were the only
    thing that was keeping her alive.

seven.**

     Love her, because some days she just can't do it herself.

Jan 2016

Thomas P Owens Sr

embers

I will find
in the remnants of a lost love's thought
some semblance of warmth
some piece of a dream past
some hope that it may rise again
from the embers
of a once blazing heart

Jan 2016

Impeccable Space Poetess

Quintessential Question

Unknown and known
Poetic terms that you
Delicately paint across
The screen

Unreal and real
Canvas 's
Flickering
Abundance

Is like n *****
Is a lovely simile
Is a metaphor for a fantastic
venture
Is a statement
Of falling in love
With your words
With your work
With the You
Wonderfully
Genuine
Foolishly
Aetheral and crystalized
Like
Snowflakes through air
Briefly temporal, anchored
On the misty treetops of my
Unreasonable reason
Slightly
Holding on those
Unleaved, yet loving
Widspread branches
To
Waver and yeald...within
Blizzards of swirling
Emotions
~~
Both
Burning
Unstoppable
Yearning
~~~
Of my and thine mind
~~~~
Growing from souls
Spontaneously, naturally,
Without a question!?

Rays of our universal consciousness
Gently melt snowflakes into the water
That sleeps and slides awaken slipping

Downwards the lichened tree barks toward The ground, appointing and connecting
North, South, East and West
Where they rejoice the seasonal
Foundation of fastbinding spins
between
:;'".,,;;
Thine and mine
Tiny dot particles asking eachother
Inviting the most beautiful
To appear

The foundation of love...
Dance of life. . .

#love #poetry #metaphor #ardor #sentient #adore #symbolic #transcience #jin #jang

Jan 2016

bones

Before she sleeps.

She opens a window
and hopes for the sky
to fall in from outside
and it's tailwind bring

her the moon and the clouds
lined with silver, a crowd
of the finest of stars
and a spare pair of wings..

Jan 2016

lluvia de abril

I carry you

I don’t know if you know
I carry you
in an involuntary sigh
in a constant exodus of yearning
and in the frantic deepness of all
nostalgic thought, shaking time and distance
to place me near you
in the closeness of your warmth
remembered

I carry you in sorrow
precipitated
in the absence of your voice
and in the memory of your rib cage molded
in the shape of ardent weakness
my embrace

I carry you, the braille at the tip of my fingers
life drawn in lines on my left palm
and in the carcass of calm interrupted
by the pounding of a heart’s ill-time

I don't know if you know, but
I carry you in the crown of memories consoled
and in the spine of excess
where I fall, between involuntary sighs
defeated
in your skin remembered
from the confines
of the heart

On a night...just a night.

Jan 2016

Impeccable Space Poetess

Seeds of Time

~
Thoughts concieved by open mind
Chosen gracefully, fulfilled and kind;
Are the treasures of remembered days
When pen to quill was an eternal phase
Of two souls yearning to be touched
Regardless of ethereal bond, much
Pleasure of a written word - longed
To become of flesh and blood.
~~~

Imagined by lmpeccable
Space Poetess

#love #poetry #words #you #embrace #loving #written #entwined #caressed

Jan 2016

Pradip Chattopadhyay

On a December Afternoon

He had to come back.

On a December afternoon
when the sun was more to west,
he landed on the most favorite place of his house,
the roof.

Just as he had imagined
the still winter air was abuzz with life.

Doves were pairing for a home
Green bee-eaters swooped on insects
Two herons kept following the grazing cow
Crows were busy with twigs and wires
High up beyond where paper kites could soar
Storks slow sunned their wings wet from the jhil
The cats warmed their furs before the cold night
The stray puppy gamboled with its mother.

Each piece had perfectly fitted the other
including the silently sleeping house.

He was tempted to walk down once
has she changed any little way?

He smiled to himself
then breezed away from the roof.

Jan 2016

phil roberts

ON SILENT NIGHTS

On cloudless moonlit nights
When the world is silver and darkest blue
And silence seems to reign supreme
If you stretch your hearing inwards
You will hear the distant moans
Of long lost lonely dreams
Homeless and obsolete
Fading away
To become endless shadows

By Phil Roberts

Jan 2016

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Meeting

After so long an absence
  At last we meet agin:
Does the meeting give us pleasure,
  Or does it give us pain?

The tree of life has been shaken,
  And but few of us linger now,
Like the prophets two or three berries
  In the top of the uppermost bough.

We cordially greet each other
  In the old, familiar tone;
And we think, though we do not say it,
  How old and gray he is grown!

We speak of a Merry Christmas
  And many a Happy New Year;
But each in his heart is thinking
  Of those that are not here.

We speak of friends and their fortunes,
  And of what they did and said,
Till the dead alone seem living,
  And the living alone seem dead.

And at last we hardly distinguish
  Between the ghosts and the guests;
And a mist and shadow of sadness
  Steals over our merriest jests.