When
I  look  into
Y o u r  e y e s
I  see  two  mirrors.
T h e y      s h o w     m e
Younger   versions   of   myself
We  are  all  just  unorganized  matter
Reflected back through endless generations
And when you look into the night you are amazed
A t      t h e      i n f i n i t e     l i n e a g e      y o u     s e e
Those    freckles   in   your    eyes   are   glowing    speckles
O f          y e a r s          a n d          y e a r s          o f          l i g h t  
But I don’t have the heart to tell you. The lights you see have died
You raise your finger and trace the constellations as if trying to
Remind    yourself    of    somebody    you    once    knew
An­d  for  you  in  this  moment  nothing  else  exists
I    look   ­ at    you,    in    all    your    innocence
And   p r a y   that   I   may   live  my  l i f e
In  a  way  that  will  forge  my  love
In   the   fires   of   a   star;   to  
b      e      c      o      m      e
A  light  in  your  eye­
L o n g   a f t e r
I    a m
Gone

Each page conveys the sentiment
the words, more meaning still
to pause for just, a moment
listening to, the writer's quill

Inspiration flows,
From my soul to my mind to my eye.
My quill glows,
Connecting the dots, of the paper my ally

It's there for you and me
the comradere of prose
sung, lined, rhymed, or free
and perfectly, composed

My quill sings a story,
My heart translates its feelings.
My paper is never lonely,
For the words fill its openings.

We deal with emotions
the ones, we can't suppress
words, in constant motion
poetically, expressed

The words we can,
We scream, shout or yell.
The words we can't,
We sit quietly and dwell.

The feel of synchronicity
a push, sometimes, a pull
not knowing what will, or may not be
a glass not empty, but yet, not full

Baby, you're a poetry
full of passion
emotion
richness
and elegance

a piece that fills me with ecstasy
lustfully
genuinely
full of fiery sensuality
as hot
as the midsummer sun

your lips is an oasis
slake away my thirst

strip away your inhibition
strip it down into words

show me what is inside
show me your prose and lines

let me loose on your body
on your skin supple, divine

let me relish every words
discover every parts
with my tongue

Baby, if you are a poetry
let me sing your entirety
let me be your willing bard.

she's a song
you'll never hear
because you never listened.

/ /  /
\  \  \


I am human,
my thoughts are where
strong desires dwell
rushing up...wishing to be heard
by the Almighty

i see
the tall bamboo trees out there
reaching.......seeking,
when winds come...they obey
and bend their heads down as they sway
they bow to the earth...accepting limits
acknowledging obedience
to One.

the slim bamboo leaves softly rustle,
as if in agreement...and i look down...

trees and i are calmed...and overcome,
by a merciful Presence,
in a soothing silence encompassing,
we are humbled...

Sally

Copyright  November 5, 2017
rrab

.
Soothing winds from the north
spread neatly across the world.
Bringing chills and ice and quiet,
hailing the arrival of the Winter Girl.

Her sire, Jack Frost, so proud.
Her mother, the Moon, is waiting.
Her silver white hair grows wild,
a testament to their Spring mating.

Her eyes sparkle and smile,
orbs riding on a golden tide.
Her head bows with mute consent
like a first time blushing bride.

And her entrance is most stately,
announced with a carpet of snow.
The Winter Girl is birthed anew
as northern winds begin to blow.


© Pagan Paul (2015/16/17)