In the place she once left a hole, a flower now grows.
Category: Poetry
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The tears that run in silent pain
Are dried and then they run again.
For long the flood of tears are held;
They suffer in a quiet hell.The dam it breaks when tears are filled.
The blood it runs when it breaks the will.
The darkness calls on winter nights;
Through darkened eyes they seek the light.The light is sought but still it’s dark.
If we should fall, tell the world we fought
A valiant fight with all our might;
Our flag in cold wind through the darkest night. -
In the night’s darkness under a full moon alone he cries.
The night breeze on his face he feels, as the winds shake the trees.
As tears stream he looks up at the sky and falls on his knees,
And with a loud voice he screams, Oh no god please.
For to know his love is gone is torture and forlorn.
In his weeping, tears cover the golden locket he had given her;
The blood of his love permeates his clothing and touches his skin.
He had found her, with blood around her, eyes open.
He picked her up and held her, and kissed her tender,
And tried to resurrect her with all his will;
But on that night, in her beauty, his angel lay still.He will carry her; with a heavy heart eternally he will carry her.
In the night, he will reach for her and she will not be there.
On the pillow she slept are the strands of her hair.
In the space she lay, now he lies and says a quiet prayer;
On her pillows and hair, fall the drops of his tears.His Prayer:
Oh God, please open heaven’s gates,
As I now in your hands place my fate,
For she is my heart and without my heart I cannot live.
I have wept and I have cried with nothing left to give.
My angel has been taken away from me,
And now I again seek to see her in your glory.
For my sins and my many transgressions please forgive me,
As I leave this world to write the rest of my story.
Oh Holy Mary, Mother of God please hear me.He lies still. From open eyes tears still spill.
Silence Falls. -
Now enter into your rest as your spirit takes flight.
May you ride on the wings of the archangels into eternal light.
We will mourn you as the heavenly host adorn you in white.
We will search for you among the stars in the passing of the twilight.
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You are my peace.
You are my release.
In fields of lilacs and white gardenias I dreamt of you;
The angels adorned you in the finest silks of purple, white, and blue.When your hair falls it is like a vast waterfall;
You overflow with passion and love.
The angels whisper in envy of your beauty.
A thousand love poems could never fully capture what you mean to me.Am I a mortal man in the presence of an angel?
Your voice flows like many rivers and I am calmed.
You found me wounded and you helped me;
You are my love and my balm.Let us forget the world and in intimate communion dine;
I have turned my back on the world because you are mine.
Your soft glistening skin is akin to nothing I can imagine;
Your hair down and adorned in your silk black robe, you stand as a goddess.My love, I am lost in your tender caress.
I lie next to you and still I tell you I miss you.
With passionate fire in my eyes I draw you close and kiss you.
Even without words spoken it is through my heart that I tell you I love you.
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In the lonely hours, your memory haunts me beautifully.
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The undertaker’s gloves touch what was once hopeful and full of life.
He lies there, eyes open, but they see not and he is not.
The sterility of cold skin against cold metal is like a thousand winters.
The time for contemplation has ceased;
He lies; Still, he lies.
The darkness behind the eyes is like the ink of a black pen
Burst open into two round spaces of translucency and left to settle.
The discoloration of his nonexistence
is not found in the beauty of any rainbow.
The body has given up the ghost,
But does the ghost know it has left its shell?
The undertaker’s experienced hands will be
The last semblance of care given to him.
He does not know, for he is not present in the body.
They will cry over him;
they will shower him with flowers, but he will not know.
When he was here he counted the days and the hours but they did not show.
Yet they now stand there, teary eyes with a glare.
That they would throw dirt on him and walk away
Without even the remembrance of a genuine memory is blasphemy.
The undertaker takes it all in, for he has seen it many times before.
In the interim between life and death he contemplates his own mortality.
The living go on, and the dead are mourned;
The solemn faced undertaker, the last recorder of them that breath no longer.
His last job is done for the night; he turns off the lights
And says goodnight to his silent residents whose souls have taken flight. -
Her beauty was uncanny.
With her wares she had seduced many.
She was dainty and friendly;
Within her bosom the bones of men she kept buried.Her voice was a lullaby;
Unknowingly, in her presence I started to cry.
Then I wept at her feet
And said to her, for you I would die;She pulled me in with seductive stare.
In the blinking of an eye within a glare,
I suddenly felt an unwarranted fear;
Again in astonishment I stared.She had the devil in her green eyes;
Abruptly, blue turned to grey skies;
It wasn’t until later I had realized,
She was the devil in disguise. -
Strong winds cause running tears to be blown back from a solemn and beautiful face. Arms outstretched, in her green dress she dances alone in the dusk at her own pace. With bare feet she steps up on the ledge and it is there she contemplates, saying goodnight to the world and with a final bow leaving behind this place.
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I love you. Dead to the sentiments of this world I arise in light yet resurrected in you. You are my life; you are my breath; if your love should ever fade from me, you are my death.
Intimate Compositions 