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One day he’ll return with shadows
Another tenebrous path travelled
Carrying what he witnessed, as proof.
Upon his stoic face and disheveled hair
He offers, insight to pain that lingers

She’ll guide, with an air of tranquility
And with the touch of her warm hand
So he may return to his appendages
Left in her care, a guard on sacred land

His weakened back holds exhaustion
A celestial stretch moving his limbs,
Proof of his immortal strength, passion
He rests shoulders upon steal pinions.

Feathers quaver, show fine onyx wings
His flesh returns, breathing tempers
Eyes open, now the colors of heaven
While his spirit continues to reenter

No different from journeys past
Of which there are, and will always be
Travel logs full of omnipotent distance
For he protects us all, yes, willingly

The tempo of their embrace will matter
Most of all. Echos of the time they lose
Forgotten. As the hum of his battle cry
Quiets. And their love begins to soothe

Wake Me, Winter

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Focused on beauty
We must be, I believe
Caught in its trance
And frozen stature.
Naked to the eye
Of the beholder
Full of desire.
To allow fingertips
A pinch
Joining, pressed
As one
Flesh
And frosted branch.
To then
Release
Cold water
Epitomizes you.
Slowly seeping
Down
Waking life
Shivering inside me.

Rules

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I’ve taught myself,
My eyes see each line.
Every intertwining part,
And how I wish they wouldn’t.
Definition in absolutes,
Best seen in piceous,
On a backdrop of gray.
When I look too far,
Spherical shapes calm me,
Hanging, swaying with ease.
Moments when I wish,
I approved of curves.
Yet, if I allowed,
You would insist.

Why Do Poets Write of Love

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Because I can’t possibly allow this post to go unnoticed. ..
A strong poet, although humble, should be well received…
And mostly because I never want to forget that I read this poem. Poets may now breathe. Thank you, Michael ♡
(Michael is fighting an illness that may take his life. Weekly I wonder if we’ll see him on WordPress. I pray for you, my friend. Be well. We cannot afford to lose you.)

Michael33's avatarThe Vision of Poets

Spring Beauty 2

Caution:

The words upon the page before you are to be read at your own risk…
What is implied within them is left to the perceptions of the reader…
If you become engulfed enough within them to endure to its finality, I thank you.
Your comments will enlighten us all…

Why Do Poets Write of Love
 
Why do poets write of love?
Do poets possess an extraordinary
Amount of love within,
Requiring them to relinquish
The overflow onto a blank page,
In order to remain within the
Bounds of sanity?
Would withholding that anomalistic
Amount of love within oneself
Thrust the poet
Far beyond the borders
Of those who profess to be
Of normalcy?
 
Does writing of the touch
Of love upon someone’s heart,
Create love within itself?
It is most common of one
Who writes of love to also
Write of sadness…
Of sorrow…
Of lost hope…

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Breath Of A Poetess

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The calmness I inhibit,
Not created by waves,
Of a tattered windsock.
Sounds of the flapping,
And the eventual snap,
Correcting all my doubts.
But the gentle wearing,
Of a used open flag,
As it slides about.
Caressing and whispering,
Mirth,
A moment of unnerving.
While I submit,
Into wonderment,
Of love and longevity.
The fraying, I cling to,
Wondering,
Am I enough.

In The Mood

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Music feeds my soul
Celebrate a little now
Important lyrics

The Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo, a yearly event held for two weeks during the month of March, continues tonight and I’m pretty excited. The festivities began every morning and run throughout the day leaving everyone exhausted, but fulfilled. Each night there is a rodeo and concert. Most Houstonians attend multiple live shows during this enormous event held every year. I couldn’t be more excited. John Legend is in concert tonight.

I’m really hoping to hear this song. One of my favorites. Happy Friday, Y’all!

Intuition

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Do you want to know what I think?
I believe, I’m past understanding
who you are
finding myself, lost inside desire.
I know, this rising across my chest
we’ll name it, intuition
I feel, it’s for the best.
I need, to succumb to your call
this redhead knows
of nothing less.
Worth the search, together
trust in the process
I’ll get you there, or reverse.
Feel my heartbeat, indeed
tis your strength, my muse,
living inside my words.
Running? Now? Well there’s no use…
time will write you out of me,
or me out of you.

A Look Inside

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Securely sheathed within herself
She submits to you, a look inside
Her tender, emotional health
You see the colors of her mind

Travel slowly and enjoy the view
Accept her offer, slip even closer
Fragrant scent and tangerine hues
Whispered from our divine composer

Amongst moulding of verdant leaves
A bashful creation, you’ve witnessed
Folded, is best, she may believe
Yet, she unburdened, is your intention