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The hour: the hour was grey and heavy laden
The ground was cool and damp when my eye fell upon that fair maiden.
A collared jacket pulled up to her chin
A vague smile stretched across the ashen light as I thought about her uncharted skin.
I knew that we were foreordained to dance.
Her hand would be mine if given the chance.

The taste of bitter wine was on my lips, and someone else's hand was placed upon her hips on that day in what was a

A bell: a bell that tolls for lost souls has me (cringe) stone white.
Thirteen strikes move me closer, and I dodge each cavernous hole in my adverse plight.
The name that each leaf whispers is Crisp and Wither.
Her heroine eyes beckon me to come hither for I draw near and nearer, on that cold

The misty cold.
The misty cold...
'Twould be a blazing fire within my bones if not for that ****** misty cold.
Warm me now; I take thy hand with thy ring that I place upon thee from the kiss of the sea.
One day I too will greet thy queen and upon her sleeve she will bear my love as we walk down that isle on All Hallows' Eve.
I take thy hand and place upon thee the kiss of my sea.

All is naught or ill forgot; for I stand ***** upon that plot that dear October bought.
Filling my head with sense and thought and hoping my love would soon be sought upon that tomb that I too will rot.
In the misty cold, crisped and withered, toiled and rot; I want her mine but she is not.

So here I am, hungover in that
This was written in the light and inspiration of Edgar Allan Poe's work.

Every Halloween I dress up, and become a "character"; I tell stories and write poems for whomever I may be impersonating. This years costume is the Raven himself: Edgar Allan Poe, so I thought I would write a poem with him in mind.
How crazy do I have to be in order to follow you?
I've been thinking about the absurd (those that you have claimed to be your people) and it terrifies me.

I could never **** my son for you...I mean I don't have one.
But if I did...I don't think I could.
Would you be so ludicrous to ask that of me?
I guess I'll have to wait and see.

How could I ever tell people about you speaking to me from shrubbery.
Out of tongues of fire came a discovery of courage and fight, and I don't believe that would have been me on that night.

I don't think my arch could understand that you would need it to march 13 times around a wall, give a shout and watch that cities defenses fall.

You would have a man take his 32,000 down to just 300, so everyone would know that it was God to whom these people were hunted.

I could never be a man with such long hair that would wield an ***** jaw to slay an army while my peers stood in awe.

The fact that you would speak to a boy while he sleeps... to call him into service.
Or have a king shaped like a shepherd, sling a rock that would leave a giants body-less head, peppered.
Even watching your master leave this world in a chariot pinned to a whirlwind of bonkers!

What of a guy that would rebuild a wall on a pagan kings dollar so that one day men and women gripping palm branches could holler.

Three boys refusing to bow down because they had a faith that was earnest, yet they stood tall when they walked out of that fiery furnace.

You see, all these people have their place (however) there is one that struck a more than ever.

A man that made his listeners shiver, “prepare ye the way” he would shout from the edge of the river.
“Hairy and howling” was this mans attributes.
Leery and crowding were the peoples contributes.

His fuel was wild honey and mouth full of focus.
What's my prognosis? He was only always ferocious.
On the day of his death he had burning passion for you, until a king took his head because his life was a little askew.

Those that follow are erratic and I'm quickly finding out my life doesn't contain that kind of static.
I can see that in order for me to be sporadic, I need you to do some spring cleaning in my attic.

How crazy do I have to be to follow you?
Easy, crazy enough to believe you can bring me through.
Crazy enough to see that the underlying definition for a believer such as me... is cuckoo.
One day I was thinking on John the Baptist and I couldn't help but think about how people must have viewed him as insane. I mean, he lived in a cave, ate bugs, shouted in the wilderness, and baptized people in the Jordan River.
It made me think of others in the Bible that have that same audacity to be mad for the Lord; and I'm not sure I have what it takes to be that way.
So, this is my prayer, my one sided conversation with the Lord.
Sometimes you segregate your cereal.
Sometimes you cringe at meat.
Sometimes you hide you face in your hands when you're embarrassed, sad or see someone's feet.
Sometimes you're so cute I want to put you in my pocket.
Sometimes these picture frames are perfect, I wish I could click a button and lock it.
Sometimes you cry.
Sometimes you dream.
Sometimes we don't talk and it makes me want to scream.
Sometimes you put your feet on my dash and leave little marks of dirt.
Sometimes when you're not here, I look at them and it makes loneliness hurt.
Sometimes you treat me better than you should
Sometimes you make this life seem too good.
Sometimes you hold my hand and we get caught.
Sometimes you fit better in my world than I would have ever thought.
Sometimes the way you smile is my favorite thing.
Sometimes if I weren't a poet, I'd write you a song that we could sing.
Sometimes you go through packs of gum like an addiction.
Sometimes our hearts beat with motions of friction.
Sometimes you take pictures of various birds.
Sometimes I hope you fall in love with my words.
Sometimes you worry and you seem a bit frantic
So I'll always be there to kiss your forehead because sometimes I'm a hopeless romantic.
An original poem by Kristopher D. Salas.
Late September creeps and greets like an old friend
Now we know we've reached Summers End

Lawnmowers rest as a rakes job is about to begin-
A crisp breeze (like a lover) caresses my chin
And now we know we've reached Summers End

The leaves I see are turning from green to a sickly yellow-
Autumn around the bend
Now we know we've reached Summers End

Flipflops for boots- tank tops for sweaters
Soon our mailboxes will be filled with holiday letters

Fireflies play a Mason Jar Melody,
Scarecrows orchestrate a beautiful harmony,
Forcing summertide to yield in jealousy

A foretaste of past recollection,
An embrace of the years reflection

To hard to comprehend

We've reached Summers End.
An original poem by Kristopher Salas
If I were a cup of black coffee you take me just the way I am.
If this were a thanksgiving dinner you'd be the turkey and I'd be the ham.

I'm the water and you're the sea
I'm the sailor and what I really mean is; you complete me. 

If this were a battery you'd be the positives and I'd be the negatives.
If I were a holiday you'd be the festive's.

If this were space you'd be the stars that form my galaxy.
If I were a driver in New York, you'd be my taxi.
If I a flower and you the bee, then it's clear to see that what I really mean is; you complete me.

One ways, u-turns, dead ends and yields, green lights, left lane merge and a squashed bug on my windshields.

If I were a Bic ballpoint pen then you would write out every sin.
If this were it, it would be the greatest love there has ever been.

Road signs and paper, fantasies and nature cannot help to say in such a little way that all I try to convey that what I really mean is; you complete me.

If I were a song you'd memorize my lyrics 
If this were February 1990 it would be Hold On by Wilson Phillips

If I were a comic book, you'd be my nerd.
If you were a photographer I'd be your bird. 

If I a cold night and you the book by a fire, then I'd be the Hobbit and you'd be my Shire.
If I a cup and you the tea then all there is left to say is...
I wanna sit on a cloud
I wanna be surrounded by the white fluffy condensation
I wanna meet and greet every dinosaur at 3000 and 1 feet.
I wanna wave to a bunny that's eating a jar of honey
I wanna speak to a whale and ride on its tail
I wanna say hello to a sailboat
and quickly note how fast it turns into a mess.
I wanna hug a squishy grey one
so lonely from pain
and squeeze it so hard that it starts to rain.
I wanna look down at the ground
and see all the people scramble around
with no way to decipher between those who are lost
and those who are found
I wanna lean back and relax in giant white sack
and let my worries drift away with the breeze
I wanna feel at ease sitting on this chair of the sky floating on by
with my imagination and realization that
I wanna sit on a cloud
Cumulus clouds can be associated with good or bad weather. Cumulus humilis clouds are common in the summer and are associated with fair weather. They are usually widely spaced in the sky, have a flat base and rounded tops and are more notably the clouds we see as animals, rocket ships, boats, unicorns and dragons. They are the clouds that let our imaginations run wild.
Cold summer afternoon, the sun falls through my half opened blinds and
I wonder...
Patiently stop and ask myself...
"Why" in the midst of conversing do I constantly think about you?
Or how when a female walks by
my mind wanders into this deep, deep oblivion
of sunshine and...whatever your favorite flower is.
I see her smile all the while I say nothing
for fear of you never smiling at me again.
With this pen
I will write you every love letter you have never gotten
Gone, but I'll sign the bottom with...
Is a thing that you have never known to little of.
Your unmarked face of beauty, girl they're not even close when they call you a cutie.
From your freckles to your perfect eyes as they smile.
Let me be your wondering crocodile,
swimming back and forth keeping you from harm
Your protector.
The projector of a love that demands a voice
Make your final choice
These lands have I scouted far and wide
Lest I should be doubted
I could find you in a room that was crowed
Clouded was my judgment about you
Sprouted has my love for you
Rerouted are my thoughts because they only think of you
You're my super glue.
The one I will always hold on to.
You will be my mother bird and I will be your nest.
You will be my queen and I will show you who's best.
I have never found someone like you
someone where I
Stop patiently, think...wait and wonder about this girl
whose thumb I'm under.
I wrote this a long time ago (in my youth) about a girl that I fancied. I feared pushing her away with my awkwardness. I have recently added to the original and I am at ease with the finished product.
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