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Monthly Archives: October 2015

In Wind

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I am breath in wind,
flying,
without wings,
falling,
without reaching earth,
I am formless,
shapeless,
mindless,
living in the sky;
seeding only wonder,
tho’ I am broken
as shattered glass,
I bear the weight
of ageless starlight,
carried freely
o’er unclad horizon;
now, at last,
still unmended,
but alive;
the red of sunset,
breath in wind,
carried o’er generations
of an Autumn day.

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Posted by on October 30, 2015 in My Poetry

 

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Take Me With You When You Breathe

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Take me to a world
where your flesh is unbound,
and the wealth of your eyes
is the effervescent sunlight
which bathes my form
in its warm and somber gaze.

Take me to that place
in your constant undoing,
where streams of liquid ease
flow from your fingertips
to soften the rigid verve
of my unwed, innocuous form.

Take my mind with you
as yours travels to the stars,
carry my heart in your hands,
that my heavy stillness
might weigh much less
by your inherent coveting care.

Take my breath to its extreme,
where it may mingle with yours,
until the air of us is all we taste,
and the tender breezes
of our deep union sighs,
the unending melody of our days.

Take me to your world,
to be fully at your mercy,
so to find my place in you,
and there, seal my fate
with the full intentions
of your conscious fertile dreams.

 
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Posted by on October 29, 2015 in My Poetry

 

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Left To These Words

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How boldly go these words,
for which I’ve not made barter,
yet in their essence, absorbed,
play me as some poet martyr.

How infinite its gesture seems,
that I, with estimable refrain,
should lay my words, imparted,
yet my undoing shall remain.

For words, alone, of themselves,
cannot shed my accurate reply,
when, for all my strains to reach,
I am left to words, which yet deny
that I, mere mortal, dare not reach that far.

 
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Posted by on October 25, 2015 in My Poetry

 

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Human

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She was to beauty
as the sun is to radiance,
tho’ I dare not exalt her
to such celestial divinity,
for as she was divine,
she was yet human
and mortal still;
’tis not glorious extremes
which I here give praise to,
nor of my cherished adore,
but for her frailties,
the imperfections
of her tenderness
which she freely laid
upon and o’er my soul
for me to need and nurture
with my own vulnerable heart,
and for that, her sacrifice,
was I then made a better man.

 
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Posted by on October 25, 2015 in My Poetry

 

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My Brother, The Stone

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Richard was not, at first, mad,
his mind then was not yet lost,
in matters applied to intellect,
his philosophies still had cost;
but with growing knowledge
he was slowly fading away,
he became unraveled within,
until his life would then decay;
his mind, broken of holding,
now unalterable maelstrom,
from which, left unattended,
fell to its shattered wisdom;
only shards of his thoughts
were able to market, unkind,
yet he could hold no remorse
for such loss of broken mind;
as I stood by, barely with him,
watching helpless as he faded,
I cried, that he was lost to me,
tears for his world, now jaded;
and it had then become clear –
ironically, the one clarity known –
that he was no longer human,
more so now a mindless stone.

 
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Posted by on October 23, 2015 in My Poetry

 

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The Definition Of Poetry

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Even in its cleverest of forms,
there is an infancy to all poetry,
shattered and strewn breath of words
which virgin readers must then eschew.

It is the light of our unbridled hours
which we as poets spend in vagary,
defining thoughts in verse and rhyme,
until every blood filled page is exacted.

With each immortal word we write,
not without vestige of wounded heart,
there comes into play a single frame,
which displays the bowels of our intent.

 
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Posted by on October 22, 2015 in My Poetry

 

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When I Was Alive

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When I was alive,
there were birds in the trees,
singing questions to the breeze
yet they did not ask for reply,
and would ne’er libate
if given to such indulgence,
’twas not their nature to appease.

When I was alive,
there was a mountain, vastly high,
yet it sat lonely, piercing the sky,
deep amid its misty ragged rafters,
where but drifting clouds
and eagles would bravely dare,
I set forth there my unwieldy cry.

When I was alive,
the gods held such lofty ways,
one could not reach, but in gaze,
to grasp at the sky with wanting,
not merely to ascend
but to o’erwhelm distant stars,
and live in peace, my immortal days.

 
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Posted by on October 21, 2015 in My Poetry

 

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