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Monthly Archives: February 2016

Of Wind, Of Beauty, Of Woman

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When the wind takes my breath away,
I have but to grapple with the wind,
not deny its purpose, nor its reason,
for ’tis merely wind, and nothing more.

When beauty takes my gaze from me,
and casts its means deeply in my soul,
then, breathless, I am ‘ere denied will,
and of this beauty, can I merely sigh.

When earth takes its great toll upon me,
swelled with its thunderous firmament,
it lends more vibrance to mortal being,
thus with its quaking, am I ‘ere moved.

When woman shelters herself within me,
tho’ she is stained with her past remorse,
‘ere I, blinded, must hold dear her heart,
and thus, become the breath of her wind.

 
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Posted by on February 28, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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In Effigy

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Shall this continent bear
the weight of misdirection,
and of thee, ruler of men,
reason must be disproved;
for thou doth bode well,
imparted of thy echelon;
brilliant, that thou art bold,
in thy cunning, remembered;
but ne’er stayed in epitaph,
ne’er reborn as enlightened,
nor in thy stead, inherited;
as thou wouldst but wither,
common masses of gossip
had thus strained thy words,
and exposed thee wide-eyed
as mere idolatry’s charlatan.

 
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Posted by on February 28, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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To My Father

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How shall I greet you
at the gates of Heaven,
when I have lived so long
as but your echoed voice,
and had but your memory
to carry me thru old age,
as a reflection of your life,
and your class as my father,
that I should but touch upon
your valued means allayed?

How shall I meet you,
and where have we to go,
that since your passing,
in your stories yet untold,
I have lived far into you,
and with pride, held so dear,
had better construct of myself
but can only recall words
which your life had spoken,
‘ere then I lend ear to more?

 
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Posted by on February 27, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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Where Are They Now?

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Where are they now,
these pangs of loneliness,
that while I am here alone,
I no longer have the desire
to be mourned for my failures,
nor praised for my acclaims,
but merely that I crave solace
for my follies and misgivings?

Where are they now,
these gentle winds of old,
which bore the resemblance
of some youthful comfort,
and now, in bitter silence,
without a breeze to my name,
that I must withhold sorrow,
and call to mind of yesterday?

Where are they now,
these sultry folds of flesh,
which, in my youth, I sought,
but dearly, among her thighs,
‘ere now no wanton eagerness,
that she is but complacent,
and with her staid glacial rose,
now held soft of love deferred?

 
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Posted by on February 27, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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Though We Are Mortal

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If we are borne of the gods,
we must then ask ourselves;
are we as bold as their fame,
are we as prone to command
both ourselves and the world;
are we drawn to wisdom’s light,
always questioning our stead,
or do we find solace in the dark;
can we accept this mortal birth
and rage brave o’er the universe,
or must we trudge blindly thru,
with impotence of our nature;
are we stones laid in future path
to guide and comfort the way
of children, in their innocence,
that they beget a better vision;
are we then wise to our being,
and having found answers, elate;
are we foundlings in ancient tide,
that with ardency, then go forth,
are we as nature intends, wilding,
to be the catalyst of future tasks,
or do we lie in wait, as but carrion,
merely aware the world moves on;
are we not bound by our resources
to unsheath our swords and fight,
or do we stand idly by as witness,
while taloned eagles reign the sky?

 
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Posted by on February 25, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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O’, Tempest, Take Me

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The coming storm, how it doth rage,
with its most sensual beauty extoled,
winds, torrent and wild, igniting me,
o’, brave and violent nature, be bold;
steal my breath, your weight upon me,
ravage these plains in thunderous roar,
let not that summer’s soothing edges
dare restrain you from untamed chore;
as breathless, I stand in wake, defiled,
and let this mortal flesh be torn apart,
spill unto me the deluge of your rain,
let your wrath now strike bold my heart;
o’, gallant rogues of thunder, arrest me,
tell the gods that sent you, I am made,
with the reign of your sweltering clouds,
cast o’er my soul, by command, obeyed;
lightning, flames of chaos, bind me now,
charge your hand ‘ere to strafe the sky,
blind stars, so they shan’t pierce my eyes,
strike true, that Earth may feel me die.

 
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Posted by on February 23, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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The Infinity Of Your Kiss

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O’, what soft, golden moments play,
wrought tender upon this mortal bed,
that I then grapple with ardent breath,
and cast abandon to precision’s stead;
what hold shall I, this moment, dare,
as with your lips, laid in fervent dire,
accept in wilding your wanton mouth,
for as breath is wind, your kiss is fire;
what rogue remorse kept me at bay,
as I, once captive, but now command,
should not be heavy with my control,
but be convened to guide your hand;
that now, with tenderest duty borne,
your eyes shed tears of waiting sigh,
and this kiss, with unbridled verve,
bears the weight of my ardent reply.

 
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Posted by on February 23, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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