What is it men in women do require?
The lineaments of Gratified Desire.
What is it women do in men require?
The lineaments of Gratified Desire.

The look of love alarms
Because ’tis fill’d with fire;
But the look of soft deceit
Shall Win the lover’s hire.

Soft Deceit & Idleness,
These are Beauty’s sweetest dress.

He who binds to himself a joy
Dot the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in Eternity’s sunrise.

Tyger Tyger. burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye.
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears:
Did he smile His work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Just your touch,
A mere caress, a slight graze,
Sets me into a feeling, an indescribable healing,
The insignificance of my soul's bleeding,
Paling to the brilliance of your presence with my wound's sealing.

Without remorse, let us gaze upon another,
As brother to brother,
Or lover to lover,
Or dealer to healer,

With this contemplation,
Let us meet once more,
Even as we realize death is but a door,
To that harbor,
Where we will never again be forced to say farewell.

XLIII

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

They say that God lives very high;
  But if you look above the pines
You cannot see our God; and why?

And if you dig down in the mines,
  You never see Him in the gold,
Though from Him all that’s glory shines.

God is so good, He wears a fold
  Of heaven and earth across His face,
Like secrets kept, for love, untold.

But still I feel that His embrace
  Slides down by thrills, through all things made,
Through sight and sound of every place;

As if my tender mother laid
  On my shut lids her kisses’ pressure,
Half waking me at night, and said,
  “Who kissed you through the dark, dear guesser?”

I miss your smile,
your laughter,
the chuckle you had,
the way your whole body
colluded with the laugh.

I miss your step,
the way you walked,
the soft spoken talk,
the humour, the dry jokes,
that I miss deeply,
the memory chokes.

I miss your look,
that gaze,
the big eyed stare,
that look
that seemed to say:
I care.

I miss you
for not being here,
miss your presence
in a room,
the chair vacant
where you once sat,
the photographs of you
looking back,
saying nothing,
looking far away,
nothing more to say.

I miss the whole of you,
not just bits and pieces,
not just this or that,
not just your tee shirts
or black hat.

I miss you
and wait for answers
that may never come,
never find the real reason why
someone ****** up
or why you had to die.

When the words won't come
I feel numb, empty inside
On a slow ride
Wanting to go faster

I sit waiting, for stimulus, motivation
Any sign of animation
in this head of mine
Waiting for the literary spark

My mind drips like a tap, drip, drip
Everything in slo mo
Need the words to grow
Blossom, bloom

Then

It hits me
A seed, a kernel
I feel the infernal rattlings
Of cogs that begin to turn

I feel it, a flutter, a thought
Emerging like a butterfly
Words multiply
I write

The words spill like a waterfall
Soaking my senses, breaking down fences
I am hydrated again

let there be no bitterness in my heart
no regrets, no judgement that berates
let me walk on my path,
let there be birds that shall sing
let there be joy in my heart
and may that be shared by those that I
might meet on my way

let me not value, nor pass sentence
let me not frown, or smirk
let me have my path that is radiant
with no system, nor ownership
free of labels
and may I walk that way, my own
let there be the sun, the moon and space
all things that exist, in their nature
and let those Mighty Here and Above
know I will not follow nor will be followed
and if it need be, may others be pleased
when they shall see me pass by