BEGOTTEN

By tears
and pleats of thought sorrow
to dress
my bleeding wounds
I accept
the gift of repentant
surety
thinking it would
untangle
all angst knots
in my stomach.
But the presumed
honorable
jewel of charity
was cracked,
devaluating it.
as treasure.
A gift
you can’t open
is never really a gift.

The View

Outside my window the world seems the same,
it doesn’t reflect what inside me has gone wrong,
sitting and waiting at twilight
when I last saw her,
looking for a message of rekindled fire
in reply to the ones I’ve sent
that never comes no matter how often I write.
Just wanting to see that envelope arrive
marked by her handwriting,
bringing some new breath of hope my despair,
over how she’ll come back,
constantly remembering the night she went away,
each day spent asking the same question
how long can I hold on and live
without a chance to touch her hand
or feel the joy from seeing her smile?

The scar upon my mind
from watching
as the wilted flower of our love
appeared in her eyes,
it still brings the pain to my thoughts,
over how we felt destiny
had sealed our lives as one,
forever,
words failing in the growing distance
to undo the gulf in our longing.

But now my soul lingers in the ebbing light
ever praying my last song of impassioned plea
written from my ink well of sorrow,
that it will sing its melody into her heart
and be a serenade that returns her to me,
ever gazing for that precious view
of her appearing again on the walkway
where I lost the goddess
I thought would always be mine.

What if?

Her deep, longing gaze
stares into the questions that swim in the waves.
Sitting where they used to spend so many hours
speaking in touching tones of affection
about sunrises they would always cherish.

She ponders the loss from the missed caresses
his hands brought with tender strokes,
feeling them still in the parts of her soul
where tears drown her memories.

Regrets crash over her like a tide,
inhaling the replays of choices made.
Can her heart ever forget
his stare of confusion or was it indifference,
when she had taken that step alone?

But he never gave himself over to her in promise,
refusing to commit even when it was needed,
adoption agency's card still stuck in her pocket,
his leaving her with too many words unspoken
because she refused to curse another life with her misery
after being unable to see a father or spouse in his eyes.

The Pirate's Voice

Sprite of broadsides, booty and plunder
touches pirate's evil heart with thunder.

Moving silently through all the seas
whispering temptations to bring them to their knees,
till the rage in such incredible brutal desire
to find a ship they can destroy and set a fire.

Each current is part of her special power
over which she invisible watches from a cloud's tower.
Coming to the dreams of ordinary sea fairing men
corrupting them with her greed's mystical blend
until they think those wicked urges are a friend.

Tides at last carry their hearts in quest for gold
sailing the oceans so ravenous and bold,
inspiring the tales of savagery so often told
never thinking how her voice will prevent them from growing old.

For the siren's spell she weaves with such delight
carries a price for which there is no flight,
pirates doomed by her invisible hands in a wave
pulling them by down death to a watery grave.

For a special dreamer

You have graced us with your visions
writing the spells of poetic fantasia
with touch the heart
and help us to still believe
all clouds have silver linings.

Bringing the magic of dreams
wrapped in a warmth of loving thoughts
reminding us how life
is more that about a given day.

For all you have done
to share joy and beauty
help us ride the sky
with the precious flow
from fancy's air,
a wish is made
that your own nights and soul
know all the happiness
that you have blessed
upon others.

Prosperity

Fumes of smoke stacks darken the skies,
hanging like death shrouds over the city.

Industry owner looks down from mansion at his empire, sipping his cocktail
while casually perusing the secret report
about the number of those who died
from what his business poured into the air,
which he bribed officials to claim was safe.

Grateful, nobody notices the toxic wastes dumped into river,
causing so many lives to be extinguished early.

Glancing over at the cemetery sprawling greens,
mind making mental note,
to find out how many plots are still available,
always pays to know how many more can be sacrificed
before he will have spend money to make his plant
finally conform to laws, he has only had to obey with lip service.

Finger Charms

Caress's spell silently spoken in thoughtful instinctive gestures,
as unconditional hugs fan the flush of pulse until it spreads compassion's bouquet,
respect's fragrance scents the air with harmony's sweet magic.

Enchantment decays amid inhaling the dust of discontent,
when misunderstandings make eyes and ears tense with doubt's senses.

Wedding of unity and tolerance leads to honeymoon of questions,
burning fires of friction darken the vision.
Garden of hopes, where love's seeds were planted
wither in the heat of resentment and drought in encouragement's water,
what fingers charmed once in care, become talons leaving scars.

From Dawn to Dawn

From dawn to dawn your face is my sun,
which rises in my day bringing it light and joy
shining love rays into every corner of darkness.

You hugged my soul so deeply where none touched before
letting me discover the pure passionate radiance of your angel's heart.
Years , had I wandered in sorrow's long shadowy valley
alone, empty, no candle of hope to see another day.

For countless heart beat I languished as a cadaverous spirit
pulse beating with tears over the burning ache of longing,
eve's spent veiled in desperate tales of death's rescue
feeling stranded by fate beyond any chance to live
where infatuation's star would fire my eyes
with flames that let me see beauty to inhale with every breath.

Oh my goddess of redemption, the Venus of my desires
caressing my essence with your sweet and tender care,
in your arms I have found Eden's hearth of ecstasy.

Each moment we share is a priceless jewel
added to the infatuation constantly growing necklace
worn over my thoughts in stunning awe
that when I felt cursed to wander a desert of loneliness
being an amore's wretched vagabond
descending from the clouds of my impossible dreams
holding me during my quivering decay of cancerous sadness
until I felt the balm of your precious mercy's ointment
slowly healing ages of scars
while you wrapped me in the affection's embrace
soothing each stain from watery eyes
letting a smile come to lips you kiss in ways
that melted the ice cubes which once froze in stern grimace.

I love my darling, my cornerstone, my core and very breath,
beyond this way station of existence
unto the gates of eternity.

Banquets

Each generations lives
in a time frame
frozen by senses to those events
and climates.

But we all have hearts,
feelings and a soul.

Knowing what it is
that touches everyone.

We each have need for love,
being cared about
as well as believing
in more than getting by.

So if I were to have the chance,
I would serve a banquet of love,
letting another generation know,
how it really isn't about
what you have or don't have,
more what is inside.

You can face tomorrow's horizon
seeing only cactus and deserts,
only let an older hand take yours,
together walking towards
unseen sanctuaries
their weary eyes
have seen by experience.

Can you

Can you
hold a dream
or feel the touch of the phantom seducer
who has cast a spell upon your night?

Will you always chase passion's echoes
into dead end romantic rendezvous
when this heart I have
and place in your hand
beats so loudly and longingly
only for you

Scenery

I sat in his living room
amid his collection of souvenirs
from the many travels he had taken,
each collected to prove he had journeyed
even if he couldn’t recall
a single detail about the scenery
of those places he had experienced.

He was just to busy
consumed with the urging to find his haven
the single spot he had no fears,
so he sat, back arched over by arthritis,
feet now suffering from other age caused problems,
unable to remember any place he had encountered.

To some he was successful, accomplished
and a paragon of achievement,
yet I saw a hallow sadness in his eyes,
they conveyed what he would honestly only say
through subtle hints in his conversation
about his regrets over not spending more time
truly discovering the beauty and value
present wherever he had been.

Warriors Beyond Imagination

World where magic swells
fantasy claims the air,
enchanted beings dwell with humans,
mortals struggling along side elves and hobbits
facing titan dark forces
battling across a terrain
where death and ice are dual enemies of their cause,
but lurking in the shadows
are the potent forces of darkness.

Moments tug at ever heart
strange alliances forged
weak and strong bonding together being single of purpose,
to end the reign of evil's night.

Tolkien's pen sculpting his epic
from the faces of World War 2 haunting his mind,
how often he summoned the images
of that sprawling Axis wickedness
spreading across Europe's landscape
in order to give metaphor in dramatic essence
unto his stunning creation.

Adding to his tale of good verses evil
the brilliance of his linguistic skills
shaping a whole culture and other language
giving his characters such deep and personality.

In the end, heroes of righteous prevail,
love is claimed as its own reward,
embraced in the sunset of one black alliances plots,
feeling the residue of the victors' sense of survival.

Faith in overcoming the impossible
told a thread to weave over the mind,
spirit of defiance reaffirmed
as we take the hand of a hobbit or other being
seeing some of our selves in their lives,
celebrating the subtle reality
that you don't have to be perfect or courageous
to stand against what threatens in life.

Umbrellas

Held with pride, shadows in its shade spare the eyes
from the burning shears of sunlight's slicing questions.
Vision loses capacity to gaze in clarity beyond its shelter,
but wind sensed still brings illusion of seeing perfectly,
all the world described as vivid and known.

Doesn't matter it is opened inside,
at night or even when sleeping,
a special covering it remains in the mind,
pity it doesn't guard against storm inside,
because no one else can see its presence.

Freudian Slips?

Now in desperation to end
all the endless insanity of dysfunction lives,
government started Operation Head Shrink Tidy Didy,
ready to analyze those infant neurosis
find out all those disorders
and makes everyone well adjusted
by the time they are potty trained.

Course asking about your past
when you are alone a year old
leaves a lot said in goo-goo and giggles,
naturally the shrinks are filling in the rest,
then prescribing meds and therapy
for each imagined problem.

It has got hard to accept
some twelve month old
really has so many diagnosed problems,
rumors are the bureaucrats
are regretting this decision,
especially after one doctor
claimed a six month old
had multiple personalities
just because he drool at different times.

Still trying to recover from their therapist slip ups,
through claiming this will spare society
so many maladjusted person in twenty five years
while insisting their retiring in twenty
has nothing to do with that comment.

Faces In The Wind

Whispers gobbled by the wind
where the heart sings its melodies
and nobody hears the sound
because everyone is trying to scream
their own message in the breeze,
make their face by the solo
one known to someone by the harmony,
let that deep urge inside be heard so clearly
so the feeling of being swallowed,
completely lost in all the chaos
doesn’t destroy the desire
to find a way to be a chiming essence
and more than a mere murmur in life.

During the midst of all that clamor
when you offer an sympathetic ear
that will truly hear that notes within,
which come from another life,
suddenly it inspires with joy of gratitude
over how perhaps they will be remembered
in the middle of thinking you will disappear
when futility strangles in such intensity.
One life so touched
finds a reason to keep believing
there is a chance to be
more than a music quickly forgotten.
Then truly feeling so thriving again
with a need to keep trying
instead of simply giving up
where quiet makes you like a ghost.

Winter’s Edge

Drifts glaze the dreams
like icicles clinging to the mind,
the bite of winter
digs into the flesh.

There is no escape
this wretched rendezvous
when walking into that bedroom
where the snow covers
two hearts.

Fresh Air

I try to let the beach's salt air intoxicate my passions to love the sea again,
but it always turns sour in my heart,
because I can't end that sickening horror from remembering
losing grip of my love's hand while we leaped from that sinking ship
before she disappeared forever when swallowed by the storm's raging waves.

Mannequins Hearts

Bullets burrow in flesh,
bodies fall into mass grave,
cold eyes hold guns,
minds deaf to screams.

Swastika on sleeves
evil's narcotic for mannequin hearts.

LITTLE TROPHIES

They are the stars
with see with our mind,
the perfect rest
we lust to find.
in our quest
one dons a vest
of wishes,
Hoping life
with agree
to embrace the fibers
as we do.
Smiles bring a perfect “when,”
which returns
to the place
our test of inner being
did begin.
and it is then
that one reaps the true fruit
from how our time we
thus did spend.