The Beholder

Driving the farthest eastern reaches of the Sandhills as this scene beckoned. Was it the water, sunset or hills calling names? The topography, a sensuous mastermind, plays within thoughts while memories flood the present.

How dare it.

Just as beauty sets in, and atop the already gorgeous scene, to share this – would have been the only cherished wish left to whisper. A hand held. Hard kiss, even tug of the hair and a reminding of the natural, even recommended design for an alliance.

Useless comes to mind, but doesn’t it always? Untrustworthy. Less than. Nothing deemed attractive found near not even near, by not just one, but from many.

Wicked is fate as she tosses over another just out of reach, if only the physical qualities found irresistible and encouraged were obtainable by another’s remnants. Would life continue to offer beauty with hopes someone might see?



Love took a muted hue when he left
I believed every word he said
As if spoken to my heart
Trusting him was easy
Now what will I do
Try to explain
I was used
His love

( Nonet: 9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 Syllable(s) )

No secret that I sometimes require strict rule following to write. My mind is a stubborn place.

But then I found my poem to be so incredibly sad, so I wrote another.


Come witness poetic loyalty
His devotion to my spirit
Not even I can believe
He allows fate to guide
Respite found in me
To my surprise
We can dream