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Tyson Williams Nov 2010
Two doors stand between us
And a patch of green grass
Our love for another
Our love for each other

As two we a separate
In time become one
Our choice will be honoured
Behind backs none will speak

No regret in sobriety
For the drunk are not wise
My love you are blameless
My love you are mine
© Tyson Williams
Tyson Williams Nov 2010
When muse is lost


And flair be failing


To where do I look for my mana?




In the nooks and the crannys


Are the dregs and the pale


The thoughts not so worthy of print




In my heart is desire


For words that inspire


But I’m blocked by the rustle of feet!




The hum in the air


Craves pulling of hair


When will failings desist?


-


In heart are the answers


Mature in their nature


Written in untarnished text




Virtuotous is patience


Commendable indeed


An art form infrequently found




To better myself


New teaching of tricks


No old dog here will be found


-


Content will I be within silence


Awaiting the discharge of words


Come wind, come rain, come turbulent weather


Come fill my empty page
© Tyson Williams
Tyson Williams Nov 2010
On slopes, in crest

Is her dowry found, friend of mud and clay


Attain approval

Pertain to promise

Submit to doable demise


Alight my heart!

Be true to self

Keep sword and shield in hand


Put death to fear!

Give life to love

As love be something fair.

-

How soon? How soon?

The time draws near

When glisten creeps into eye

Take heart stand firm

And cherish true

The love of one so fair
© Tyson Williams
Tyson Williams Dec 2010
Of but a portion
Might I have of you
Tis more than I’ll ever need

Nay

When I have all of you
Complete myself, shall I be


On my love of you :

Rampant is my love
Not one to be tethered

Patient is my love
Not one to be wayward

Garrulous is my love
Not one to be talked down

Certain is my love
Not one to be questioned

Naïve is my love
Abandoned to your hand

Yours is my love
To do with as you will
© Tyson Williams
Tyson Williams Nov 2010
Mercy! Mercy!
A semblance of grace must be shown.

As blade be drawn and smile emerge
The flick of wrist is seen
The die were cast many decades ago
The instinct was grown in earliest year

Encroach not near, my flesh in fear
Waves are raised and follicles stiff
But metal meet flesh
In swift angled motion
No sound but the intake of breath

New orifice created!
Merlot does it spit!
Vendor bent double in pain

Clean up the puddle
Someone may slip
The mingle of wines is uncouth
Repulsive and wicked
© Tyson Williams
Tyson Williams Nov 2010
On rose and thistle

Does sunlight stumble

Toward what?

But a withered prospect.



Through hour through year

Through vain attempt.

In party of soil and breed.



Be picturesque

Be bloodied in struggle

At one with earth as in design



-



But faint in breath

A scent of sadness

Spring up! And breast doth rise



In arch of flesh

Place colours of hope

Pray promise but from the father



So stay green grass

And red the flower

Of rose and thistle strain
© Tyson Williams
Tyson Williams Dec 2010
Something’s afoot
Of this I am sure
Of exactly what
I’m not

When my eyes catch a glimpse
My heart skips a beat
And briefly butterflies fly

When she moves
I am drawn
When she stops
I am drawn
When she smiles
I am drawn
When she cries
I am drawn
-
There is warmth
There is prospect.
There is stock
In imminent return

There is firm retribution
There is cold creeping in!
In leaving
In wretched departure

There is joy in re-joining
There is heartening

When firm is footfall
And sweet singing sounds
Summer is coming
There my love is found
© Tyson Williams
Tyson Williams Jan 2011
Over where will I walk?
The old dog was right.
Like a pig on a spit,
was the likelihood of my ruin.

In a roundabout way,
I was preached to.
More visible though
Might the gem have been.
If in current-less stream the torrent came.

Lesser of love I receive!
Corrupted consequently my outlook

How wrong must I have been?
Used though, choices I made.
Without, today, I would not be what I am.
© Tyson Williams
Tyson Williams Nov 2010
Each hour is routine dreary!
Each tick signals the next tock
Forehead on the table
As if on the chopping block

The mice without their tails!
Are groped by grubby hand
Whilst pen and quill cry in cup
Unused refused and trampled down

But Oh! Beyond the window
But what is that I see?
Perfection in its finery
And she is beckoning for me

Avast! And don’t be sullied  
The dream is not for real!
This boy is in a daydream
Calloused from reality

For occupation is a tid bit boring
But hope is in the people
And love is out beyond four walls
Beyond few more hours to endure
© Tyson Williams

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