Tag Archives: #lovers

FORMAL GREETING

MY DEEPEST despair, a formal greeting
Such reasons like pompous meanings
My heart bleeding upon corner stones
Such time until I become seconds

My hands so calloused in meaning
Of feelings, heart, and believing
Tis a frightful way
Regressed living
My cage small in existence

But now is paramount to be
if nothing just for me
A summer breath burning
From flesh–to–boiling–it’s me

::01/13/2014::


CELLO SPEAK FOR ME

THE pain speaks clearly
no introduction needed
A bastard for a mumble
the razor edge bleeds
No need to plead–indeed
such weakness is meat
for fangs deeply digging
— in me such remorse
To believe in love indeed
cello speak for me…
this night I bleed eternally

::01-12-2014::


MY STORM

VOICE within the gale
speak to me – shudder
soil drench soul – sell
I bind my tongue no-utter
secrets of my shadow-tell

My storm has entered
across a parched land
dust assailed by tear drops
footprints across soul-sand

Let fires burn from my skies
ripping oak and ancient lands
the treasure shall you find
winds, rain, lightning discover…

a heart that’s lost
in space and time…

::01-12-2024::


IF NOT NATURE THEN WHOM?

WHAT does nature whisper
as she flows through your life
a gentle breeze across the fields
bending blade and stem

and you see such grandeur
through a car window
golden fields across deep blue
who loves you if not lovely nature

the lover who never cheats
showing lasting beauty
within her bosom
if not nature then whom?

::01/05/2014::


AND WHAT IF LOVE

And what if love
could be given
without fear
or inhibition

and just as easy
to receive —
as loving one another
wouldn’t hearts sing?

And what if love
could be received
without question
or expectation?

To live within a world
without broken hearts
love could thrive
like two close lovers

Lets begin to change
the color of our world
and believe in love
and let it grow…

::01/04/2014::


THE SWING BLADE (OF INNOVATION)

WE toil in obscure fashion
but only so – until innovation
Elais Howe’s sewing machine
– a stitch in time

And detritus pepper life
So lovingly Hess’ vacuum cleaner
pulls us from dirt to God-clean

Remiss the typed word without
–Shole’s typewriter
Clackety-CLACK impressed words!

Oh this man saved us all
– Seth Wheeler’s toilet paper

But the grand techno-god
– Tesla’s electric power ac
humble praise for off-worldness

Back to terra firma
– Elisha Gray’s Telegraph
Lost rights to Mr. Bell

We have a grand audience
the universe rivetedly watches
What new innovation say we!

God-like soon — be we soon
the tower of babel-speak
confusion-sweet-humble
Let’s rejoice!
God-kiss soul!

::12/30/2013::


SEVENTH WAVE

MY LOVE mere words
are empty shells
shrewn across sand
such castings color
sounds of ocean within
Doubt not these words
though empty shells

My life-light fills
each  constellation
Shed such tender skin
oh fear betrays such life!
what you see – what not
but life of yours greater!
Silently sing whales

Sing to me breeze so-easy
lullaby breath tear so tender
blue speaks ivory tenor
caps of white dance-sizzle
seventh wave passion-swells
Beneath waves and flotsam
jetsome golden crystal

::12/30/2013::


MY TREE OF LIFE

I DESIRE that which is mine
and give no quarter
to those who challenge
the fruit of my tree of life

I guard with constant diligence
the beauty by my side
her beauty madly drives
sane men into frenzy

Tis such a small price
for a gentleman to pay
to possess such a fire
her furnace forges my love

Fair warning to weaker men
best you chase less fair women
my stick has a spot for you
surely your head atop my spigot!

::12/28/2013::


BEGGING FOR A BREEZE

WHAT others cannot see
my limbs reveal to me
a ghost of the past
begging for a breeze
My tree am I for thee
sashay in April wind
till one day – somberly
you torn down — yes you
the largest part of me

::12/28/2013::


LOVE LETTER (vi)

IT WAS here beneath the willow upon this heart-kiss perfect day
that I caught the string upon which beats your tender heart.
My love what would such a song be if that sparrow could feel
that which burns for you within me?  And those daisies that spread
yellow splashes of brilliant sun-skin upon God’s slice of paradise
— what paint-passion colors would the brush of Cupid stroke?
And the air my dearest beloved!  What if the very air we breath
— could taste the fruit-love that grows upon thy vine of delectable passion!
Surely it would fragrant the likeness of cherry blossom no doubt!
My love — the night!  Imagine the darkness changing it’s ancient wardrobe
upon seeing the crystal-light heart that burns brilliant within your warm bosom.

Dear Sweet Love, I clearly confess such things are at times emotionally and
devastatingly pleasurable to think whilst alone this night!

::12/21/2013::