Soft Eyes Tender

Soft eyes tender,
gazing with loving looks
sent his way,
she breathes easy,
content, relaxed, and safe
in her beloved’s arms,
feeling his warmth, lingers long,
caresses and kisses lasting
through the night well past dawn,
would that she could stay
as morning wanes to afternoon,
and then to another evening,
knowing he feels that way too.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2021

Upon a Bed of Daisies

She lies upon a bed of daisies
her favorite flower,
a blued-eyed ginger, waiting
for her lover.
He comes to her
to shower her with flowers,
wooing her with poetry and kisses,
then in the morning,
they wake in each other’s arms.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2021

He Has Seen Himself

He has seen himself,
too much
a monster in the mirror,
glaring  with obsidian eyes
and feels his heart is lava,
burning and driving
the waking world away.
Now she has entered his life
and is adding glaciers
to the molten river in his heart,
cooling it to warm,
by simply loving him.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2021

Beautiful Blue Eyes

Hands soft and  smooth,
fingers entwined together,
let me hold
and be held in your arms,
sharing warmth and glow
as your heart
beats in sync with mine.
You, woman of a noble nature,
I am one longing to lose myself
in the depths of the ocean
(beneath the starry expansion),
of your beautiful blue eyes.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2021

He Feels He Must

He feels he must apologize
for his ev’ry breath,
as if he is the mistake
the world must pay for.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2020

Matchsticks and Torches

Another matchstick,
struck and lit,
another flint spark
of an ongoing inferno,
and the town criers,
cry condemnation
for torch bearing villagers
(not on their side),
storming the steps
to further fan the flames
for their own reasons,
as we in the middle, burn.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2021

Phather Phantasm

Half-seen in my half-stare,
half-believing you are there.

Faded memories and faded thoughts,
raindrops falling on sun-seared rock,
quickly come, and quickly part.

I was eleven when you did not die;
you took your leave, never saying goodbye.

And I, the fool, follow the fool
walking barefoot on broken glass,
and tread upon the blood-stained shards,
waiting to wound me ere I pass.