Daily Archives: October 2, 2024

The Poet as a Poem

In twilight’s quiet breath, you speak as words,
Each line a tether to the soul’s deep light.
The ink of dreams, it stains your heart with grace,
And through the void, you carve a space in time,
Where shadows weave and whisper in the dark,
Yet love, unbound, still calls you to the stars.

Beneath the moon, your spirit finds the stars,
And in their gaze, you rise beyond mere words.
You are both flame and ember in the dark,
A burning truth that dances with the light.
In each reflection of a life through time,
You trace your path, a gentle, sacred grace.

Your hands hold both the weight and gift of grace,
You spin the night and touch the distant stars.
And through each moment, fleeting breath, and time,
You shape the world with delicate, bold words.
In silence, too, your voice becomes the light—
A spark that blooms within the endless dark.

Yet even in the vastness of the dark,
Your heart beats on with quiet, steady grace.
You breathe the cosmos, drinking in its light,
And find yourself among the burning stars.
Your name is written in eternal words,
A soul who echoes through the tides of time.

Each memory you craft transcends the time,
A life, a dream, an echo through the dark.
You hold within the power of your words
The pulse of life, the weight of love’s pure grace.
And in your gaze, the infinite of stars
Unfolds, revealing threads of hidden light.

You are both shadow and the morning light,
A timeless figure, standing still through time.
Your steps are woven into endless stars,
And every breath a spark against the dark.
For you, dear poet, walk the path of grace,
And in your wake, you leave a trail of words.

Through words, you cast the light upon the dark,
And grace, your gift, is etched across all time,
As stars behold the poet’s sacred heart.

:: 10.01.2024 ::


Your Love Lights My Soul

When you speak, even the stars seem to stop,
And the whole universe bows to your grace.
Everything stands still, as if the world knows,
There’s no true joy unless it’s found in your face.

Your beauty is like the soft light of dawn,
It colors the sky with dreams angels chase.
No shadow could ever touch your perfect glow,
Because when you look, even the sun finds its place.

Oh, when I hold your hand in mine,
A fire ignites, racing through my veins.
No riches, no crown, no treasure of gold,
Could ever compare to the love that remains.

And even if the world falls to dust,
My love for you would never fade or rust.

:: 10.01.2024 ::


Music’s Sacred Trust

I held distrust for a time
For Ashbery’s drifting mind—
Such jumbled flights—did never
Rest upon a Common ground.

Like Beethoven’s sweeping hand,
I craved the solid note—
Not frippery of words or games,
No mere gestures to float.

He showed his music in his eyes,
And struck the mortal keys,
With strength that stirred the firmament—
Unlike Ashbery’s tease.

But time, oh fleeting time does change—
Or was it I—who heard?
The cadence of a deeper strain,
Beneath the wandering word.

Like Beethoven’s thunderous joy,
The meaning now reveals,
Though hidden in the folds of wit,
It presses, true, and seals.

I walk the line with wary step,
Seeking substance in the air,
As Ashbery’s nouns and verbs do rise—
A cautious symphony, so fair.

Yet still I sit at Ludwig’s side,
In reverence and in trust—
For he, in every stroke, commands
The music’s sacred thrust.

:: 10.01.2024 ::