A single page of her
fills her lover's world
ardent appetite to be cradled like the  
adoration of a mortal unexceptional goddess
who sometimes has high-heeled shoes of clay
leaves her and her lover to waver among
joys shared blissfully diffused by tears shed quietly
A single page of her is written
with the fundamental spirit of a lust for love
an ambition to live loves dream
which is center to every man and womans heart
A single page of her is provender for the soul
with a common language of immortal romantic notions

A single page of her
just a human being
with another human being
just an exceptional love within an uncomplicated heart
softly written open to lights of loving warmth

A single word of her
fills the canvas with brilliant colors
takes on the shapes of this feverish love affair
takes on the hue's of these hearts at ease
that wrestle each other naked souls
then cleave to each other with a dire thirst
A single word of her statuesque illustration
histories and futures softly spoken in the animated night
expressions of this average celestial throne
this world of exceptional average simple beauties
A single word of hers
that i have never actually heard
but knowing its there unspoken in her eyes
just a human being

A single picture of her
fills a poet's hands with rich verse
words laden with potent essence within their expression
as wild as the wind in the deepest part of the rain
as enriched as breathing exaltation and splendor
her photograph pasted to the mirror's edge
as if she were a reflection of dreams
as if perfection had a name
A single picture of her
embroidered by a light that shines
only from some souls
a warmth that greets every passing stranger
an intensity that verges on fire

A single moment of her time
leaves impressions upon you that will breathe within you
growing in the remembrance
like roses upon the vine
interwoven and lovely in the warm light
just a human being
but she will always be
just Kristen

© 2018 mark john junor all rights reserved

flowers grow in the holes
of her ever more romantic dreamin's
she fills in the picture with pastel hero's
their colors fade then fire as her passions run
vivid at a moment's of his heartfelt embrace
faded as his wicked smile fails to ******
she is drawn to the artistic brief time in hand
fascinated by the workings of the mysterious mind
how create rainbows from the dusty nuance expressed
create love from an abundance of words delicately devoted
cede to the child hand within us
the joy and discovery
making gentle rain from the hard snow
of making yesterdays into an epiphany of beauty lost
how to be the source and author of true loves song

while she is taming the mare
he trims the overgrowth
while she entertains with tea and crumpets
he is chopping the wood
while she dances within loves light
he chips away at the stone hearth
these are no lovers
just strangers embraced

her inner field of flowers
a swath of rose red bordered by summer greens
ever an insurrection against winters hand
saving every sprout and budding leaf
single-handedly stemmed the tide
as Autumn steals away with all of the summers life
he is her part-time hero
obsessed with his grand gesture
dismissive of the intangible cold touch
she paints him in pastel
but his is a life of watercolor running in the rain
a minister of hammers
the only spark within is that
of the violence of the iron wrought anvil
no heartstring to gather up
to weave a life from

she will mourn his leaving
caught up in the divinity
always found in yesterday's sorrows
bound in the confines of her heart
he will always be the part-time hero
he will never leave
in the loss of yesterday's sorrows

her entrance was full of
beautiful blue-hued stars
filled with the nuance of a touch of romance
inspired by her i make clear announcements to my heart
that this daughter of moonlight
treads the path to my dreams
alone scatters pages of rose scented poems
along my veins to the point of creations fire
even her tears spent for me are gracious and kindness

after her entrance
blue stars settle on the bare floor
in exquisite patterns that flavor the minds meal
that lends its rich texture and sensations to the bodies temple
she lay in repose like a field of summer wheat swaying
in the cool breeze
she lay in the folds of my blankets
like the queen of hearts
a luscious liquid in her every move
softly she speaks every embracing word
that cools your heated brow
comforts your beating heart
she knows just what to say to ease you
she knows just how to weave you

beneath her entrance
her barefoot leavings are a track
that have led many to their unwitting tale of woe
where from a great distance can they
with longing and tender expressions put to page
placed ever so delicately into envelopes
headed for the mythical west coast
the land of palms and glitz
forever summer
in the land of golden statues

after her entrance
i have within my grasp
a poem of her
a poem of her moment
a rich tapestry that is woven into
the fabric of her Paris fashion catalogue
where she is a French princess in prints 8"x10" glossy

poems © 2018 mark john junor all rights reserved

I spent
My last $20
On you.
I hope
You like
What I got you.

I know
They're not
The nicest ones there,
But I,
Wanted to show
That I was thinking bout you.

I know that,
Times have been
Tough for you,
And I
Know that this
Wont make everything right.
But I've been thinking bout you.

And with
Every petal that falls
I hope you
Know that it's
Every thought I have bout you.

Yes I
I love you.

whispered memories
gated truths
misery behind a laugh
playful child
run with the butterflies
forget all these ties
they aren't apart of you
so run create fun
these whispered memories
are not apart of you
a limb
your subconscious mind
tore apart from you.
so run little child
let your wings sore
and fly with the doves
sing little child
sing with the birds
play little child
let the grass grow so tall it tickles your nose
be graceful little one
because you can now
this limb is detached
laugh little one
because there is no more pain to hide behind
you are strong little one
mighty even
you're brave
little one
you are all
just laugh little one
let the whispers go with the wind
take stand for yourself
let this lesson be the whispered memory
to remind you to be brave, fearless, childlike
to take this pain and consciously detach it from yourself
to carry on
be the little one
the fearless one