A dying romance
given love and care blossoms
love is rekindled

I am not changed by you or from you,
but with you

Like the earth and moon
your pull attracts me, moves my ocean’s tides
and I hold you steady, in an orbit,
We dance, of pushing and pulling
a starlit spin that lasts our lives

I am not made by you or you by me
but nurtured and renewed

Like the wilting bud that life has already cut
closed and confined,
You are soothing water and I am allowed to open
You fill me with so many possibilities
and I bloom

I'm a Japanese Cherry Blossom
Without the Cherries
And a slower rate of blossoming
What does that make me?
Does that make me the tea you drink in the morning?
But all i wanted to be inside
Is inside your head
Not in the horror film type of inside your head
But the emotion of fondness and high regard
Will you raise your picket fences for m if you had to?
Because i would definitely do the same

If you see a distant star
in the evening sky
and you shiver from the chill night air,
yet you feel a warmth
in the depth of your heart,
then you know that I am still there.

When your tears have dried,
the bed has grown cold
and you're feeling lost and adrift,
when the days feel empty
and the nights far too long,
just remember, I gave you a gift.

A lifetime of memories
below a rainbow of love,
hearts like spring rain
as they fall from above,
to cover the ground
around your sweet feet,
a carpet of love;
every one a heartbeat.

For I promised you once,
long ago, far away,
that I would always be there,
never falter, never stray.

To my vow I hold firm
and we never shall part,
for I live deep within
every beat of your heart.



Written by Darren Scanlon, October 2013.
Revised 13th July 2015.
© 2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved

It must’ve been 1992,
And all I’d remembered was the smell of
Maple
On my fingers.

The moon’d later melt,
And all I’d remembered was the smell of
Maple
On my fingers.

The boys met the girls,
And all I’d remembered was the smell of
Maple
On my fingers.

I’d never forget, “tender,” her thigh,
And all I’d remembered was the smell of
Maple
On my fingers.

And leaves later felled their own trees,
But all I’d ever remember was the smell of
Maple
On my fingers.

*Note - Yosemite, 1992, her name was, "Elizabeth," and we always fall in love come the first attempt at, "connect," right?

Those pearls rolling down the sky
Breezing leaves dried in sun
Touching the ***** of earth
Sweeping its skin so browned
Those moist drops of rains
Kissing every bud juvenile
Blossoming as flowers in love
Wiping the melancholic air
Those tears from clouds falling
Framing necklaces of rivers
Covering land stretches so green
Spreading smiles worth a million

Essence of changing seasons
Layer by layer
What effect of falling dew drops?
Noise of silence
Calm between chirping birds
Feelings during tides of oceans
Beauty of falling flakes of snow
Grasping of fog and giving warmth feelings
Result of blossoming of flower
Feeling the emotions
While facing a wanted sudden situation
Is not it love of wisdom?

Today these feelings are billowing
                        like a prevalent arbitrary
       tension
            of poets as elves
Is there any
              thing new
                          to be proud of  
                          a words structured in an order
                                  peculiarly pleasant
                              refind enough
                                 just and justified
                                                       as
                                                      the right chord
                                                                ­              is
                        as a melody of a classical piano
to be laid down on a virtual array
of a poetry realm
over                                                       ­           ((  night  I've   danced

beautifully   with you  ))


      laping     erratically      striking    
harsh      on   hearing           nerves system

embrace thy emptiness
                                  to write is to discover
                                        to arbeit machts mir frei
praying for minutes for a pasus that's not so
     poignantly  s  l  o  w
                   after

                    hysterya of bumping crazy chords stampede
fades

hope         that you are looking as nice as a well nurtured horse
horhe
     hi **  
            four legged friends are a balsam
for our torn souls

wrecked emptyness is eating me alive
                 as a wicked
                      bewilderd beast

you are a honey jar
tilled with a bunch
     of naughty
    mischievous
sunny rays
                      tickle tickle
                             maroon and gold sweety
                          
I need a bachelor
I needn't think unappropriate
I need to breathe I need to breathe
I needn't think about parasympathics
A n d D a m n   I n e e d B a c h