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Monthly Archives: November 2016

This Breath

How soothing be
this casual breath,
had it been borne
but a moment sooner,
would I have been
aware and so bold
as to say ’tis more
than a breath of life;
would I have been
so zealously moved
as to write soliloquy
of its very coming,
to mold into wisdom
that of its ending.

How easily does
thought take course,
as words drip swiftly
from off my tongue,
merely fall into place
upon this very page;
and with its course,
unwieldy as it may be,
no more ragged tenses
of harbored phrasings
e’er be left to the toils
of my dissemination,
which I’ve held firm
in labored breath afore.

And now, with ease
of breathing fruitfully,
this soothing breath,
tho’ escaped too soon,
yet in its very wake,
I taste remnant words,
sweet, as sugar taffy
melted on my tongue;
‘ere the ode is told,
as a scent in the air,
surrounding thoughts
now with its soothing,
that first breath which
allowed me to breathe.

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Posted by on November 22, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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To Hold This Moment

Have I now the right
to hold this moment,
as when in your eyes
light shines like stars,

and when your soft hair
is a silken flow of fire,
when the subtle tremor
of my hands is all I feel.

Have I the right to stay
until this moment’s end,
so that I may then know
that time has such weight,

as the whole and entirety
of the universe within me,
and the brave new world
I have found within you.

Then shall I hold tight,
this unending moment,
as if I have such hope,
or if I could stop time,

for this very moment is,
so too, the reason why
these hearts and hands
are made but to tremble.

 
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Posted by on November 21, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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A Question Of Stars

With my limited and parallax view,
I look keenly to stars, to their being,
to what immensity beyond ‘ere lies;
to the eclipses of both sun and moon,
as in their shadows, horizon of space,
that vast expanse, immeasurable still.

‘Ere I fathom the void, to contemplate,
elect and draw upon my imagined eye,
to see myself in deep and distant realm,
wherein, I lie in wonder to gaze at stars,
just as I do on this earth, but with flesh;
‘ere now I seem as a wisp of moonlight,
’til both mind and flesh become the stars.

I am but mortal issue, borne of star stuff,
‘ere I lie awake to bid my kin their due;
these stars, mortal as I, burn in seasons,
and too, fade to die, sometimes o’er eons;
that I am the stuff such as stars are made
begs the question of this infinity within,
and tho’ mortal, do I exist to know stars,
or do the stars exist but to question me?

 
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Posted by on November 15, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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Disquieting Silence

All around is silent now,
both without and within;
save the air of my breath,
vague, as a kind of music,
tho’ as barely a whisper;
no creature stirs with life,
no breeze escapes in sigh;
it’s as if time is lost here,
or no time had been at all;
and I, aware only of silence,
become lost in the stillness,
as tho’, being still, I live;
thus, by remaining lifeless,
‘ere, death cannot find me;
e’en night sky stands still,
unwilling to be dispersed;
tho’ it could be tumultuous,
this storm of silence reigns;
and if there were one sound,
some recall of splendid din,
it must be quite empty now,
left merely as a lone ripple
amid undisturbed ephemera,
‘ere silence seems content,
if only to stay its usefulness.

 
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Posted by on November 9, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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Shall I Love Her Thusly

Shall I then breathe of her sultry air,
that she has breathlessly engaged me;
as she now vainly toils upon my flesh
with her unhurried and cooling rushes
of most o’erwhelming, welcomed stay.

Shall I offer her some selective mercy,
for in her heart, she holds me painlessly,
as she now carries my weight with ease;
having no other requirements but to be,
that I, now sated, offer love as her prey.

Shall I bleed for her wounds unhealed,
tho’ ne’ertofore my design or torment,
as she has thus been wounded by others;
shall I then be her healing touch of flesh,
and will she thus be virginal in this way.

 
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Posted by on November 9, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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Let Them Forever Remember Me Thus

Let them forever remember me thus;
not for the final words I have spoken,
but for their thoughts of me at the end.

Let them forever remember me thus;
not for the paltry lines I last wrote,
but for the sum of all I have penned.

Let them forever remember me thus;
not for the sorrow I have e’er sewn,
but for the joy I was meant to toil.

Let them forever remember me thus;
not as man apart from his own mind,
but as mind unfettered by human foil.

Let them forever remember me thus;
not as weak to withstand life’s stride,
but boldly forged for its destination.

Let them forever remember me thus;
not with fondness as obscure memory,
but painted vivid in their imagination.

Let them forever remember me thus;
not as human, with beginning and end,
but as mortal soul, yet to be reprieved.

Let them forever remember me thus;
not in the fashion of one who is lost,
but in the spirit of one to be believed.

Let them forever remember me thus;
not in shadows of strange days past,
but in fond light of their sweet recall.

Let them forever remember me thus;
to be part of some other life’s journey,
or they must ne’er remember me at all.

 
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Posted by on November 2, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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Your Smile

Your smile, ’tis uplifting enough;
one might think it to be your way,
but you hide when among the rain,
as tho’ it may remember your eyes.

But, in your eyes, no sign of sorrow,
and no star of night by which to guide;
tho’ daylight breaks upon your smile,
’tis easy enough to see the reason why.

Are you then happy merely for the day,
to breathe and want as sun does shine,
or do you feel the weight of the stars
which give rise to your desire to smile?

Knowing now that you are yet immortal,
and with your smile, the world goes on;
do you smile for me, and with your eyes,
know too, I live by your grace, to smile.

 
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Posted by on November 1, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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