The rare thoughts in-between are the most precious memories.
Though you faded away from me, in my mind your aura is pristine.
You were lost in the debris of my mind, but somehow I stumbled upon you.
For a night I communed with the joy of our past and kisses in spring grass,
But to keep you rare and valuable I placed you back were I found you.
You are lost again to me, but my consolation is knowing you are there.
Every now and then I will try to find you, with love and streaming tears.
Still, I carry you in my heart … you infiltrate my four chambers,
And I fiercely try to pull away stubbornly;
But then in my sleep I reach for you with tearful longing unknowingly.
I am prideful in my open oratory, but secretly I want you to see me.
I long for sleep so I can dream and once again touch you with sincerity;
You were dead to me, but now in your glory you are resurrected in my memories.
-
-
Sensuality is weighed in measured moans;
The poetry of the movement of your body
Highlights your gorgeous tone.
I must dive into deeper waters to explore you further;
To release your essence,
I must take you to heights of ethereal pleasure.
If only silk sheets and plush comforters could whisper …
In its consistency honey is sweet,
But the taste of the fullness of your lips is sweeter.
Your release is akin to a thirsty man
Crawling in a desolate desert who finally found water.
We were once just lovers, but now we are in love with each other.
You are beautiful in your appearance ,
But to the scent of your perfume alone I would surrender.
With slow movements though I am eager, I write you mental love letters.
Your calm voice is like pink lilies on still waters;
The summary of our story is two Sagittarius hearts who found each other
And merged their fires together.
Alone we are still red flames, but together our blue flame burns brighter.
Talk to me sweetly my love, and let me bask in your sensual whisper.
You are a goddess with brown eyes, curled black waterfalls,
And an ankle bracelet standing 5′ 5″ in your natural stature.
Our love is enjoyed in passionate moments and savored hours after.
The beauty of your aura are the pretty tones of your laughter;
Forever in your embrace I am enraptured. -
The crow still watches.
Strangest days are when music is played,
But the children do not dance.
Tears flow from eyes that see the darkness
In nightmarish trance.
For her future sins, she says
Three Hail Marys in advance.
In the flesh beauty is adored,
But tired souls pull away in constant balance
Yearning for transcendence.
The light that is within is dimmed …
In death, eyes are closed,
And in birth, eyes are again opened.
Solace is doggedly sought,
But even by the wealthy, it cannot be bought.
The weeping of the children signals the horizon
Of a new beginning.
Who can fathom the deep emotions
Of the hearts of wounded men?
Love is found for a season
And then disappears again.
Memories of love resurface in the winter,
But there are no more passionate kisses by warm fires
Or tender hearts for shelter.
The callousness of life strikes and tears asunder.
The poet’s pen writes of love and heavy sorrows;
From a deep well of affliction and lost love,
The words he borrows.
As pen hits paper thus begins the concerto;
The violinist starts off slow
And ends in thunderous crescendo.
Emily Dickinson sings and writes anew
As she gazes out of her window. -
With tears, the infliction of mortality was fiercely debated.
Memories of childhood joys appeared, but familiar faces were faded.
With a mixture of hysterical laughter, murmurs, and wailing,
The final act was finally abated with a crumpled note nearby,
With a name at the end stated. -
Discovering our true selves, we are the light that shines;
We are angels adorned in white with diamonds in our eyes.
A dream long sought and finally realized —
On that day we shall be transformed and beautifully reborn
Leaving behind forlorn, fear and the sorrowful years of many tears;
Embracing the shedding of our old shells, becoming butterflies
In the sunlight of the summertime, gently coming to rest
On broad leaves under shady trees, feeling the wind blow
Over and under our wings, listening to Blue Jays sing,
Dauntlessly displaying our gorgeous array of colors
And preparing to fly again. -
Winds blow through weeping willow trees
Causing them to ceaselessly weep
At the falling of their leaves. -
My own thoughts slay me.
The torment of the lonely
Are long past memories.
On the other side of the mirror I drown,
But they can’t see me.
The black pitch consumes
Everything in totality.
When love left me
The fallacy of normality
Was shattered utterly;
A couple walk by in the rain
And kiss passionately …
I stare keenly;
Suddenly, I am overcome with envy. -
Oh you men of war, will you not fight?
You scribes and poets, will you not write?
You sorrowful and desolate, will you not tell of it?
You great orators and storytellers,
Will you not let your voices be heard?
You lovers of decadence, will you not indulge?
You long downtrodden and desolate,
Will you not state your claim in angered passion?
You upright men of valor, will you not give your lives for your children?
You beautiful mothers, will you not be their comfort and their strength?
You aged ones with beautiful silver hair,
Will you not impart your wisdom upon us and tell us of the years?
You eagles, will you not soar and spread your wings in heavenly winds?
You rivers and streams, will you not be my peace?
You tempestuous seas, are you not blue and deep?
You who hold back long held tears, will you not weep?
You of my kin who have gone on before me,
Do you not live through me?
You who have been kissed and held by me,
I love you deeply, can you not see? -
From the pressure of pain and the fire in us,
In our constant agony we have become walking diamonds,
Rare and precious, to be beheld in our raw form unpolished
Yet flawless, in beautiful array of different shapes and colors,
Shining brightly under the heavens, one by one coming out of the darkness
With a long trail of tears behind us.
