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Cormac May 2022
All of this time, I was discovering you
For such my arrogance assured
All of this time, it was you guiding me
In my self made mist, myself obscured.

Took my hand, my arm, my stride
Your eyes gazing into my soul
Softly, I spoke your name
Yet immediately lost control
Cormac May 2022
The scent of her skin
Intoxicating as *****
Yet more rose than poppy
More thorn than seed

But what care I?
Knowing the touch of that body
The redemption petal
My cheek caress

These stumbling words
An impotent expression
Of the thoughts hesitating
Fueled by heartbeat

Oh, let me touch those lips
With mine
Let me wash away your woes
With mine

Take my hand
My love
Take my heart
My love

I give them to you
That this morning may
Unite us two
While we gaze as idiots

As this dawn sun reminds
We are life worn children
Not wise
Yet the child sees truth

It's in your eyes.
Cormac Apr 2022
I almost wrote her a poem
Then I laid my pen away
Beware! The World may judge
Wise Reason will say

What care I for the comment of
Conventional fools and lauded clowns
Instinct or impulse, what's their differ?
Am I the jester, now out of bounds?

I almost wrote her a poem
I hid my thoughts instead
For fear of perhaps exposing
Long broken works of this head

What cares my heart for reasons
Nor experience and age
I have a lifetime ago forgotten
How to follow life's page

I almost wrote her a poem
Yet I bound these hands
And ******* my thoughts
Lest she understand.

And yet I believe she may.
One of these days.
Cormac Apr 2022
With the Sun I arose,
Away from My Love,
To greet the day,
Turning a glance once more,
Determined feet frozen,
Morning eyes strained,

I caught the curves of My Love,
Undulating as the hills,
The valleys,
Of a land that beckoned,
The weary ragged sailor,
Filling his sea-limbs with hope,
Of a destiny arrived.

Oh, dream not salty vagabond!
For this apparition be real,
Hasten yourself to see,
For the beauty of such unknown,
That was always there,
Before your discovery,
Before your awake.
Not a mermin's foil,
But a creation of God.

The unassuming beauty,
The presence itself,
What fear you Sailor?
Is this not your isle?
Tramping the seas,
You called out in your sleep,
As the currents and winds,
Swept you at will,
Now you have discovered paradise,
Will you say it to the world?

She sleeps on, My Love,
She dreams of a man,
Worthy and deserv'ed,
To travel her lands,
Over hill and down valley,
Hand in hand.
Cormac Feb 2020
There was a time, I would not have imagined.
The silky touch of a human, tender and smooth.
Yet, a hand driven by a mind, fierce and determined.
The terrible beauty, not only born, but pressed against my skin.
To what this honour? And how this dream?
Awaken me not, for I have no desire to escape.

Then she smiles.
Light from distant galaxies momentarily escapes through her eyes,
Trying vainly to catch it and contain in mine,
Straining from the effort my squint becomes a frown.

She laughs.
My once brazen spirit, disarmed and beaten, surrenders at her feet.
No longer believing his own well-rehearsed verses, this blushing schoolboy steers his gaze away.
And yet. And yet.

In a distant place, a lion awakes, rises and surveys.
The sun is already scorching the savanna.
Another day of hunting the prey. Another spin on Darwin's cycle.
I am being devoured.
Cormac Oct 2019
And just as the waves
Washed over the sand
The wind combed the corn
As she took my hand

Narrowing pupils against
A search of my eyes
For fear she might discover
My soul's sunrise

And yet. And yet.
The want for to say,
The need for to share
The fear she'll away.
Cormac Jun 2019
I have been  titled sensitive
But I am not weak
I feel the tortures
Yet choose not to speak

I have the illness
I am diseased
My heart's defect
It easily bleeds

So, use your words well
Tear open my breast
Wrench out my heart
Please, do your best

For I shall go forth
Being healed completely
Immune to pain
Your cardiac amputee
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