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  Aug 2016 Darrel Weeks
Sjr1000
She doesn't know what to do
She can't get out of this room
She sits in her chair
watching the morning dew

No appetite

Words don't work
They won't even sway her
Her mind is somewhere else
I know maybe
she's thinking about you

There are so many clichés
one can say

All you can do is hug her
tell her
"Baby it's gonna be okay "

That's all you can do
when
baby's got the blues.
  Aug 2016 Darrel Weeks
skaldspiller
I wish i could bleed this
I cant make him real on paper
The way he stands
Or smiles
or speaks
Like the impossibly red necesity
Of the blood that flows through my veins
But shows blue through my skin
Not exact
But close
Like my facination with his hands
And that they make art
And that i just want to be close
But cant explain
How that feels
There are no words
In any language
There is only art for this
And that is still impossible to read.
  Aug 2016 Darrel Weeks
Valsa George
As I beheld a flower of rare beauty
In the silence choked heart of wilderness
The facsimile of a pretty woman came alive
From the coagulated heap of images

A woman…….! Isn’t she
God’s supreme handiwork
An animated form of chiseled art
A joy to behold
A figure of curvaceous ups and downs
God’s beautiful calligraphy
Her skin glowing as satin
Hands and fingers of creamy softness
Eyes reflecting love and gentleness
Voice musical and sweet
Moving with measured cadence
And walking with fluid ease
One who smoothens the rough edges of life
But Alas! A treasure rarely valued.

A loving daughter to her parents
An adorable mate to her man
A forgiving mother to all
The fountain spring of new life
The lovely mother to her children!

Though she is branded by many
As frail or fickle, infirm or impish
How empty is a man’s life
Who hasn’t known a woman,
Either as a mother, sister or daughter
Or a lover, companion or wife
This marvel of creation,
This miracle worthy of adulation!
In a world where women are discriminated, I feel proud to be a woman and believe that a woman is the light of her home ! I dedicate this poem to every woman big and small..... and affirm that her sacrifices are never wasted!
  Aug 2016 Darrel Weeks
traces of being
.
Honeybees, birds and blooms unfurl
an enchanting spell
when spring comes by here

Memories waft 'neath burled rustic trellis
where flowered tendrils grasp fleshly
like the newness a love once tenderly embraced

Songbirds in your garden sing
of swooning memories rapture.., of velvet eyes,  
the fragrant spicy nectar hidden within her walls                            

A song of honeyed bees'  sweetest stinger,
and the poignant ***** of intoxicating surrender
lingers, bemused spellbound by a thorny heirloom rose

Sharp beauty beloved like a blameless trap
caught blissfully, breathlessly inbetween
all you wish for and all your wanton needs

Desire 's wellspring an unspoken passion
coquet swollen buds adorn blossoming,
sensual, untamed carnal grace

A picture perfect natural beauty;
sunlit chassé … feathered brush, demure blush
dancing with basket of lace petal’d perfume

For to colour a heart's blank pages
rapt in the poesy a joyous ecstasy ..,
enrapture with rainbow's luscious taste

What seems lost is but a tender vestige unfound
a passing moments innocence lost
to steal away like rumors of gold

These silent reveries seep from a hole in my heart,  
as if ripe strawberries of yore, gently weeping sweetness
when pricked by a thorny rose  

The ides of spring do still bleed a timeless ache
onto the page ... sweet naivety stung
by a mesmerizing dart to the heart

Songbirds in your garden do sing
of sweetest things immersed in nature's nectar
blissful memories sleeping in the petals of a rose




Sung to the wind by a song sparrow — ♪ ♫...✩ ☼✩ ✩☺✩
If only now in dreams of yore
a sky full of stars shine brighter,
a garden of flowers fragrance more pungent,
and songbirds in your garden from yesteryear
sing tantalizingly more beautiful ...,
when you were near

.
  Aug 2016 Darrel Weeks
Eloi
I watch as the heat  on the window from where your hand has been 5 seconds previous to now fades.

Your finger prints linger there, begging for someone to notice them.

I see your blackened silhouette submerge into the forest as you walk away,
I know now, I'll never see you again.


My body will be a deadweight on velveteen,
A carcass full of memories of you,
Pure and true.

If you hadn't have left,
I wouldn't be found dead,
But the time has come to leave and I cannot wait any longer.

Prepare for the news, it will hit you hard,
I'll make you go mad, the way you did me,

Insanity insanity,
What a beautiful thing it is to be insane.
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