Summer Is The Time For Heat
And For Wildflower Blossoms

*~Marian~

Let your heart drown in tears
To cleanse away the wound
From it shall spring eternal fountain
Of inspirations, to open your heart
To Love, Hope, and inspiration
Muses will come to drink from it
And poetry shall flow through you
Every particle of you enamored
By the sweet water, flows eternally
Replenish the soul and turn the tide
To delve deeper in to self-belief
And, embrace knowledge to fight a stormy world
Poetry is the panacea for a recuperating soul
For there is the eternal fountain to drink from*



















© Amitav (Radiance)

I smile knowing that this isn't a dream.

I smile knowing that you are where I am and I am where you are, in the dark, under blankets, on a cloud that would have felt like nails if you weren't here.

But I smile knowing that my breath doesn't escape into the loneliness of my room, as it brushes against your neck – my kiss of air that pushes you closer into me.

And I'd whisper words like
"I love you"
And
"You are so beautiful"
that would glide across pillowcases into your ears. And if you aren't awake to hear them, I'd make sure to repeat them the first thing in the morning when you wake.

But for now, the silence competes with the crickets, your soft snores, and my even softer sighs of laughter, in disbelief that such an adorable situation has laid itself out right in front of me,  in my arms.

I have trouble falling asleep, because for the first time, my reality is much sweeter than any dream my mind can ever imagine.

I am a UFO, An Undeniably Fallen Object.

I'd crash land into your back yard,
And if this ruckus fails to wake you up,

I'd already be armed, with an arm
ready to toss pebbles at your window
and a finger ready to press play on the boom box.
but it's all too cliché, to be throwing rocks,

at your glass panes,
so I'll create a master piece that wouldn't fit within any kind of art frame,
You'll read out your name,
On the moon once the dots are connected,

because anything seems easy, even punching in craters on a giant space rock, if the purpose behind the action outweighs any and all consequence,

And honestly, I'd do anything to put a smile on your face, ever since,
Ever since I first seen it.

It took my breath away, and it felt like I was falling head over heels,
And what I feel is that you're a gift from over head, and even to this day I still try to look for your halo.

But someday, I'd like to move that golden ring above your head into one that I can actually see on your left hand.

and it's too bright here in the City of Sin to ever catch a glimpse of a shooting star,
But by far,

You are my wish come true.

Well, a month into the job
as local sheriff I needed an assistant
and so I advertised and got one interviewee
“What’s 1 plus 1?” I asked
“11,” came the swift reply

Well, I thought, that was creative,
and might be useful in the job
and so I said:
“What two days of the week start with T?”
“Today and Tomorrow,” was the reply

Well, maybe that’s how creative people are, I thought,
in this part of the country;
so I narrowed things to general knowledge:
“Who killed Abraham Lincoln?”

“Wow!” said the candidate, completely elated.
*“You mean I got the job
and you’re already putting me
on my first ****** case?’

Like a goose flying tail,
Or alone waiting mail;
Like a fly on the strand,
Or initials in sand.
Never give up.

You're fouled on a fair play
With the crowd in your face;
You shoot from the blocks
To a false started race.
Never give up.

You're stranded on the shoulder
With a tire gone flat;
Or walking a dark stretch
With a load on your back.
Never give up.

You're lying in a sitting room
With a match and a spoon;
Staring at a bare wall
When your skin starts to crawl.
Never give up.

You'll get your lead;
The strand may break;
The tide will turn;
You've lost the taste.
The spare's in the trunk,
Friends lighten your load.

Never give up.
There's light down the road.

I'll never forget her face.
Our eyes met; both had butterflies
In our stomachs that had
Butterflies in theirs.

Teenage features made
My eyes softer from
Touching them with vision.  
Smiling with every inch of

Herself; slightly protruding
Canines gave her a sense of
Wildness. An insanely
Beautiful wolf.

Mouth slightly open in
Centre at default.
Those lips that women botox
Themselves to achieve.  

Angelina Jolie's half-sister's face.
I became a slightly different man
Then.
Like after a near-death-experience.

After three and a half years together
She still blows my mind.
I can watch her from a distance, and
Contemplate the way her skin seems

So thin over her collar bone that
You wouldn't dare even kiss it
If you could. That, and how I rest my
Face there every evening and thank

Whomever it May Concern
For it all.
I am a man with hungry eyes and
Hands.

Beauty is my ******.
My own strengthening, inspiring,
Comforting -every-day-Heaven-
******.

Two strange hearts falling in one love--
Deep bowl of broth--is a mystery.
Baking eyes tossing off a fancy loaf
Ere the mouth that desires fare velvety.

Once the tommy the spot hits, culinary
Delights--instead of repeating upon
The tongue--become unsavory.
Hand, picking at the spread of affection.

I look for repetition in my
Poetry  
Run my hands through
Months of whittling and
Fitting
Words into figurines to
Detect

Boredom by border between
Own style and
Self-copying crossed
I find

The strongest move
I can make
Is to keep writing
However the Hell I
Want.