Rapier flashes, sun on steel,
Deftly, the point scores the heart,
Blood stained lace, and a dandy’s cry,
Death is sculpted to a fine art,
As body falls in the crimson dirt,
A desperate soul must soon depart,
Long we danced, and long we fought,
In lonely glade, our paths do part,
I to the road, and you to the grave,
The full rising moon bids me to start,

JDoyle

What is beautiful, defined?
To me it is the sunlight,
Landscapes and life that’s unconfined,

It’s standing for a cause that’s right,
Following a heart that’s true,
And never giving up the fight,

It’s the little acts of love we do,
The nurture of a mother,
And a life that is brand new,

It’s when we see beyond the “other,”
When “I’m sorry” is sincerely,
And we hold onto one another,

It’s remembering another dearly,
Kindness that was shown to me,
And tears of loss, that shine so clearly,

It’s all the wonders of life I see,
The moon, the stars, the rainbows,
The seedling and the ancient tree,

The word “ beautiful” you chose?
To tell me how you’re feeling,
And I think, should I suppose?

That you find me so appealing,
To compare me to compassion,
And to hope and love and healing,

That is just my real reaction,
Such a humbling thing to say,
It brings my thanks and my inaction,

And as for me, though come what may,
I hope my soul stays intertwined,
With what is beautiful today,

JDoyle

These new eyes, how strange to me,
The same places no more the same,
Looking back at who I used to be,
And the curious she who had my name,

My eyes now faded, the sun a glare,
In bitter disappointment, I turn away,
My painful heart, so worn with care,
With jaded soul, I’ll face the day,

Now I see paths I had missed before,
I’m feeling stronger, than I knew I could,
My sense of purpose, was never more,
And I understand now, what is good.

The circle completed, as life renews,
This time, as time and time again,
My life to live, my path to choose,
This peculiar me, that long I’ve been.

JDoyle

The babbling brook
first made the suggestion,
And whispering wind
then added a thought,
Old crackling fire,
now he had a question,
And eye of the storm
winked sly at the plot,
The mouth of the river
grinned wide at the notion,
And rustling leaves,
seemed to like it a lot,
So echoing caverns
just set it in motion,
Though twinkling stars,
had signed “rather not,”

JDoyle