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mark john junor Aug 2016
when all your stories have been told
when you can no longer invent a twisting tale
that will captivate
that will romanticize
that will fill the heart with images of beauty and
lost love returned at long last
when the ink has dried on your last tale
and all the shadows of characters that
live on in your memories imagination
have been lost in the dusts of time
will you write me a song
to keep my lonely heart amused
while i wait here by the dying fire
waiting to hear your footsteps coming home to me
waiting to hold you close to me
while you whisper tales of your travels
while you whisper tales meant to distract me
from the stain on your hand
i see it so clearly but i try to blind myself
i curse my weak heart for doubting
i can clearly hear the lie in your eyes
but i can only think of your sweet lips upon mine
your cold words have frozen my heart
and i lay awake till past dawn
hoping beyond hope
i know one day you will fail to return
but i cling to our brief moments
i cling to the wish
long after wishing had failed
sit and stare into the dying flames
numb to truth
numb to lies
not my usual timid attempts at crafting beauty from the life i live but rather a tale told to me in a dream
mark john junor Aug 2016
a breath of light
touched her towheaded son
as she reached out to find sunshine
in a moonlight song....
you can find beauty and hope
in the darkest places men's hearts can dream
you can be saved by the smile on your face
if you just believe
nothing can keep you from
being loved again...
she held her towheaded son close to her
as daybreak was outshined
by her joyful smile...
she had learned that lifes road
was hills to struggle up
with the sweat pouring from your labored brow
and the lighthearted dash
along a river of joys
she was alive with hope
and her darling baby boy
she will walk with him till he's a man
in this woman's heart
its her towheaded son that's her sunshine
mark john junor Aug 2016
in the shop window
the mannequin contorted
into a parody of summer beach living
even with the martini glass dusty and cracked
the hawaiian shirt, the flip-flops
the mannequin's long deep gaze forever painted blue
behind cheap sunglasses
sealed away behind faded curtains
straw beach hat tilted against
the harsh glare of a lightbulb for a sun
now this lifesized gaudy imitation of summer
is only the conversation starter for the old couple
who owns the store
with brighton beach memories
photographs of nineteen fifty eight
the heavy scent of cheap perfume
the shuffling of the old man bringing a cup of tea
this is where memories are bought and sold
where a piece of nineteen seventy six
could be had for two dimes and a nickle
its old men who hold the worlds histories
in their wrinkled hands
careworn baubles of a different age
its old men who have in their eyes loves lost and found
who have endless summer days in her arms
forever there back in sixty seven
this old man in his dusty store has more riches
than all the banks in the world
in his heart
mark john junor Aug 2016
the summer sun hangs overhead
held there by her dreamy heart...
softly painting heavens with the fluffy clouds
softly illustrating passions devoted kiss from
the delicate dance lovebirds do in the
beautiful summer air...
she writes me romantic stories as
the first stars to pierce the
tide of evening skies
washes away the last of summer afternoon...
with the gentle blessing of
her dreamy heart she entices me to her bed
and into her arms...
with wondrous stories she has found in
the summer eve's graceful song
she tells our profound love story
set against summers beautiful day...
everyday we find each other's sweetest desires
in each others dreamy eyes
mark john junor Aug 2016
sitting in the reflected sunshine
glass flowers breaks into a shattered prism
casting shards of color around the afternoon filled room
while motes of dust foreshadow
the yet distant snowfall falling silently
glass flowers, painted edges like razors
cutting sharp shadows on the tabletop
they interrupt the smooth page where my words have fallen
breaking them into nonsensical whimsy
casting them like a ship on the rocks
obscured to their meanings
shredded of their worth
glass flowers grow in my mind
clawing their way upward from the false soil
trying to find within themselves lifespark and breath
they took my words in hopes of
finding passion to inscribe on their hopes
passion is proof of life
passion is proof of a heart beating madly with desires
glass flowers silently seek life
to grow, live, breath
to be loved and to love
glass flowers sit silently in reflected sunlight
wishing for life beyond this quiet room
mark john junor Jul 2016
she was a fiery soul
emotions spilled out of her cup
like a bittersweet wine
an aftertaste of tears
salty as the sea rushing beneath me
heartfelt as the lonely moonrise
burning like the hearth of home remembered vivid but far
inviting you back from your cold journeys
the faceless sea's of humanity's wanderlust
from the dark romances of uncaring hearts
feel your heartbeat thunder in the stillness
hearing your tear ravaged breathing
as you struggle to find solace in sleep
her words carried on the thick air remembered vivid but far
like swans floating on the still waters of childhood
like images my heart paints when
her electric touch torches my soul
she leaves a wake of silence and
appreciative eyes behind her drifting the worlds ways
she comes to my bed now
slips into my cold sheets
and with lips forsworn to her fiery tongue's wicked ways
and crafts a bird from blood and bone
a flightless swan that will forever be companion to
to my seasong
moonrise comes with a silence
that my heart can never greet with joy
mark john junor Jul 2016
tender is your daydream so sweetly dreamt
written with joyful colors and inks of a
heart cherishing the bright and intimate light of
loves enduring song
you hum the tune and i put words to it
true spoken endearment one lover to the other......
we build a sailing ship with the strength of our love
put the wild winds of our passion in the sails
we will find our paradise in eachother's bodies
lets run the fast waves in the sweet night
as we fold our self's into eachother's pleasures
lets be lost at sea to the world outside
within this cradle of the love
we are reborn to each breathtaking waking moment
in eachother's arm
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