The stream (all workshops)
I’d gladly walk a thousand miles
Naked and shoeless
and without bread or water
hoping to eat and drink of you
holding you in my embrace
I could sleep on a bed of nails
and still dreaming of you
If upon awakening, I could feel
the rise and fall of your chest
I would give my eyes to an Artist in need
for you are etched in my memories
If you promised I could see you within
My ears I would give to a deaf musician
In the hope that I could hear you whisper
with your angelic voice my name
I find myself sitting here with such a heavy heart. What once was my escape from all my demons and pains, I now realize has slipped away into the abyss of my mindmares. What once was laughter has turned into tears. I find myself asking what did I ever do to deserve the heartaches that God has allowed all of my life. I thought for one time I had finally earned a place of happiness. Only to find out that I was the biggest joke yet.
When she shared her news,
it was too late, and for a short time,
later, he'd be angry.
She began to deteriorate the
very next day, for nineteen months
she suffered; but her concerns were
always for him, not the pain no reliever
would ease. Cancer is such an ugly way
to go, but she was brave and beautiful,
even in death.
Eight years later, standing in line,
he had lost everything, but still has to smile ...
it was he who had been loved by her!
`
A winsome voice rose
into the unlit sky
its fingers harped
unwakened dreams
A bare vignette lurched
into the shadows
its claws scraped
unshoed expeditions
An arm is raised high
blurry stars in witness
its blood testifies
unquieted aspirations
A voice rose to the Night.
and formed a melody
its waiting days expired
unsought gem wanes.
`
In my stand before the break of day
as starry sky turns to dawn gray
awaiting a nice whitetail buck
to fill my freezer with some luck
should he choose to come my way
Here in this copse of mature pines
beside a thicket of briers and vines
for company a pair of gray squirrels
with tails held in question mark curls
I scan surroundings for antler tines
though
you are
no longer
the infant
impatient
hungry
still I wait,
listen for
a cry to
creep through
these
small hours
I find you
noiseless
to the wants
of a mother
what
would I give
the whole
of you
can
I define
a universe
a tangent gift
it is there in
a heart beat
a breath
a sigh
or
forgiveness
before my
own demise
ribbon riding
polish shinning
wavering this summer heat
in undulations hot as
a cutting torch
the cloth rippling on us
held fast by bright buttons
we gleamed lasting
smiles as pole by pole
we past and ate up the
miles
leaning on elbows bruised
from hasty landings
the landscape wide
and wild swayed by
and the large open sky
gave each a thirst for
the soul
A Vagueness blue…opaque
Who else could have written that song you liked
last Tuesday as we sat in the café dim?
I thought as much was true of you
and turned my hand to scribe a penned
prize, indistinctive but solid and gracious.
So now we understand the fuss and fighting
in a lifetime of stares from our peopling learning
steps we climb over or through for recognition,
given over like a horse drawn mill to some to
others an Olympic gold medal for making
one hundred and ten meter of trash.
From out amongst the shadows
she emerged quite wearily,
as humble, and as sweet a person
that you'd rarely chance to see;
her charm worn as an overcoat
tailor made to be the perfect size,
when I asked if she would care to stay
relief spilled into both her eyes.
When she talked to me she had a way
of easing my troubled soul,
other times, spent feeling awkward
even though, 'twas not her goal.
I wrote once of leaves,
And their death as they do fall,
To plummet from such tumbling heights,
On nothing but the winds’ wistful call;
I wrote how they would glide,
From branch, to breeze, to ground,
And I dreamt of such vicious things,
That await their rustling sound;
I saw how they would wait,
With a sickly sort of glee,
Readying their tools to bite and drag,
When they knew it could not flee;
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