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Joseph A Belli Mar 2010
My partner in crime
Always on my mind
Who I can talk to for hours with no words half the time
My anchor at sea on a ship with no sails
And the will to keep rowing where my strength may fail
While I am with you I am fearless of heights
You make me feel loved and prompt me to write
When you speak - I don't listen
I breath in your words
Exhale, look up and see a new world
One with promise
A future shining bright as the Sun
Simply knowing your Love means the world to just one
As we drink up these moments
We're running from time
Staring into your eyes
I glare back into mine
Fly north on your wings while your heart becomes colder
When we are to meet again, we wont be different - just older.
So if you ever are lonely in a town with blank faces,
Look up at the sky and count the stars in their places.
For you can bet God I'll be counting them too.
Although we may be apart, I am always with you.
© J.Belli 2007.. Critique, Help me become a better writer..
Joseph A Belli Mar 2010
You are all the good in me.
Perhaps this prompts my distance.
The Fear of falling in love,
Then falling apart,
Insures a comfortable indifference.
While hearts slip further into absistence.
You always kept me away,
While slowly drawing me in.
I've heard all you have to say,
Now I beg, "Please tell me once again."
Your voice,
Our touch,
Your joy,
Our lust.
If you must know,
Why it is I dance so much,
The future is in question and only few I still trust..
© J.Belli 2008.. Critique, Help me become a better writer..
Joseph A Belli Feb 2010
Weave your net for ambitious fools.
Weave from clouds so comfort is felt by the captured.
Fly me over oceans and vast lands.
Beautiful in their own tragedies,
Built by royalty for her majesty.
Build me around you,
I will be your kingdom.
And will defend you until I am nothing but gravel and stone.
Or leave me here.
Built into this landscape,
Until time runs its course and I am truly alone.
© J.Belli 2007.. Critique, Help me become a better writer..
Joseph A Belli Feb 2010
Twilight anchors subtle strokes on the guitar.
Rhythmically soft plucking of each finger resonates among the stars.
I gasp at a true orchestra of gods,
Who reign over sleepless neighbors,
Content in their dwellings,
Never once appreciative the timeless symphony,
Our Earth Mothers beseeching whisper.
I try to play along with her,
But congested cackling of metropolitan madmen,
So brazen is their yelping.
Spoiled children crying for attention,
Unable to hear her song over obsessive commotions,
At all hours of their borrowed lives.
Yet she plays on,
As if thanking us for her inevitable demise,
At the hands of her most beloved child.
I suppose we can do no wrong in Mothers eyes.
© J.Belli 2010.. Critique, Help me become a better writer..

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