Rue the day I come to tell
that I cannot remember well
the breeze that strode before us when
we heard the chorus in the glen
of hopes and dreams and whispers of
the thoughts of those who dream of love
and rue the cold and bitter night
when I cannot remember quite
the timbre of your quiet sigh
the color of your longing eye
and may I never live to tell
that I cannot remember well
what perhaps your name had been
or where you lived or even when
we said hello and not good-by
or was it just a far-fetched cry
of bitter love and loneliness
to fill internal emptiness
before we came to realize
more hope have we to touch the skies
than find within each others gaze
the magic of love's winsome ways.....
and dreams are but a hapless wave
to fill the cold and silent grave
Ah, rue the day I come to tell
that I cannot remember well...
J~
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Invisible Hurricane...
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Joy Unrestrained
How oft the sadness of regret
Would bleed its vesture on my heart
Or paint its dark and sordid art
Across a day not broken yet
How oft its vengeance would remain
A visage, hidden and despised
Where hope lies flat, unrealized
In cold and unrelenting chains
Expectation’s pressing weight
Would push me hard into life’s dirt
Drowning passion in its hurt
Exchanging tenderness for hate...
...and peace would slip from my embrace
My joy be overcome with dread
But for redemption’s river shed
From Hands of sweet, atoning Grace
Janet~
Would bleed its vesture on my heart
Or paint its dark and sordid art
Across a day not broken yet
How oft its vengeance would remain
A visage, hidden and despised
Where hope lies flat, unrealized
In cold and unrelenting chains
Expectation’s pressing weight
Would push me hard into life’s dirt
Drowning passion in its hurt
Exchanging tenderness for hate...
...and peace would slip from my embrace
My joy be overcome with dread
But for redemption’s river shed
From Hands of sweet, atoning Grace
Janet~
Friday, August 26, 2011
Commandant
Squanderer
Why wastest thou thy longing on a sigh
For minutes slipping to elusive past?
Why longest thou to hold a vapor fast?
Or lookest thou with low and dreamy eye
To swift-winged moments dashing by
Thus squandering present joy for shadows cast
No stagnant moment can there ever be
Nor was so small an hour that we should waste
Such treasure on closed lips devoid of taste
Or with eyes turned to past’s eternity
Be blinded to a stream of opportunity
Rushing to an ethereal sea in haste
Janet
To Mike…first crack at The Dare...
Am I vaguely close?
His Name...
What was his name?
He asked softly
As he caught the look of longing
In my eye
What was he like?
Oh, his gaze was as blue
As the azure sky
His smile was as fair
As summer sunshine
Time did not exist
In his pleasant arms
We could walk for miles
For the night was warm
We didn’t think about minutes
As we spent carefree hours
Wandering through oceans
Of nodding wild flowers
Pleasure was sitting
At the brink of dawn
Or simply strolling
Across dew-kissed lawn
I didn’t appreciate him
Nearly enough
Or spend my time thinking
Of it as love…
What was his name?
He heard my wistful sigh
As I replied simply
His name was…
July
The Hard Part Of Poetry
Unspoken...
...Her sorrow bled,
Not in rivers of red
But in dark ink across the night
The tears she wept
By day were kept
In heartbeats out of sight
Life can slice
The same heart twice
Twice hearts can be broken
Her sorrow bled
Where ink-drops shed
Lost years of words unspoken
J~
Not in rivers of red
But in dark ink across the night
The tears she wept
By day were kept
In heartbeats out of sight
Life can slice
The same heart twice
Twice hearts can be broken
Her sorrow bled
Where ink-drops shed
Lost years of words unspoken
J~
Mere Observances
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)



