~

Drifting on a meandering stream
where clover dance and ripples direct my thoughts
to the promises of a new day

I dream I am floating in your arms

as currents gently tug
playing solitaire in wishing hands
among glistening diamonds on the surface

I search for each desire’s realm

while my eyes wander to a place
long of sunrise sparklings
on soft apricot murmurs

Finding your fragrance on a cool wind’s whisper

my heart is drenched,
cleansed in an endless channel
of what your beauty brings to me

I rest in a shady spot among watercolor shadows

writing poetry,
penning my affections in ink traced lines,
renderings of how wonderful my life is

Since you have washed over me

leaving me breathless,
submerged far beneath dew drop shimmers,
saturated by your love

Has every Poet felt THE Pain?
Well...considering we are human beings, and every human, at some juncture, has Been in Pain, then Yes, every Poet has felt Some Pain.

THE Pain is the brand that tunnels in and twists You through the Grate, until SNAP! You Break...wide open, a blazing bonfire, Flame of THE Pain has digested and phased Your Matter into Vapor, You are released in Smoke from the Fire,
Catharsis of Inner Core,
revealing an own
Inner Nova all Your Own.
As Your Essence mixes within the Mist of the Etheric Brain, you find your Calling, and your Mind breathes again and releases an expression of Healing.
Found In the passion of Musical Musing, the stories of the Glory of Redemption, the Color Splashed Canvas, the Prolific Poetic Artist, the Kindred You shall Find.
Those Deep Works that Speak to the Seat of Your Soul,
the Goosebumps that Follow,
the Feeling of Connection are just but a Reflection of a Kindred Kind.
The Kind that if You Met You would finish each other's Words before the first Sentence need be Spoken.

If You can Know what I mean, then I bet You've Felt THE Pain.
If You are a Poet, then Yes,
You are a Poet who has Felt
**THE Pain

if i had an eternity
i wouldn't apologize for the things i said
but things i didn't say
because silence kills more than words

and isn't it funny
how jesus is in our hearts
but god can't stop the suffering

every atheist
has been an agnostic
and i am on my knees asking
for god to take me
instead of that seven year old boy

but god takes him instead of me
and the last thing he said to me was
"i want to be an astronaut"

and i suppose
none of it really matters
because the seven year old me
wanted to be a veterinarian

but the seventeen year old me
just wanted to make it through the day

i'm wondering
if the seven year old inside of me
is still alive

or maybe god had taken her too

someone once told me
that there's a kid inside all of us

i think
mine is trapped in my rib cage
my bones are the cell
and my veins are the noose
that threatens to take her life
if she acts up

and maybe
i am the warden
of this prison

the cigarettes and the blades
are what's keeping me in power

i want to throw them out
if not for me but for her

every agnostic
has been an atheist
and i am lying in my bed telling
the seven year old girl inside of me
that she can come out now