Sketched Lines

heaven is heart
god is place
love is writ
upon our faces
peace is light
an inner sight
it’s gold glows
in darkest nights
reflecting you
in all virtues
its mirrors showing
blessed truths
heaven is heart
god is place
and love’s light shines
upon your face

Older Poems #9 : Mausoleum

the candle shook this darkened womb
scattered gold around the tomb
and in that lantern’s light did see
the sum of life’s blithe mystery
vitality, virility
captured for eternity
as decorated ossuary
such irony in effigy.

At Sea

on ships full rigged
set sail my dreams
yet not before the mast
no common tars
these reveries
from midnight oceans passed

Older Poems #6 : In Whispers

In whispers find we revelations
perplexing those who fail to hear
between the quiet evocations
hide sighs which land on lov’ed ears.

And of those secrets left unspoken
in breaths which gently stroke the skin
are vows that will not yet be broken
by silent souls who dwell within.

Year’s End

I have no time for churchyards
nor plots among the blooms
clothe my bones not in the earth
and seek no marble tomb
when winter breathes his last on me
and his icy fingers draw
away from clay, the rest of me
I’ll need this dust no more
so set me on a long ship
and push me out to sea
that I may sail away aflame
in to eternity.

Where Lilacs Grow (unfinished idea)

after midnight she would go
down to where the lilacs grow
and in their heavy scented air
all her frailties would she bare
to the goddess of the night
clothed only in the silver light
the moon could shine upon that grove
where she sacrificed for love
her mortal flesh long long ago
there where ghostly lilacs grow.

Older Poems #4 : Maiden of the Elm Tree

fair maiden of the elm tree
love borne upon the bough
each leaf that falls
requited tears
I must return somehow
a thousand fold
in joyous weepings
a river forms thy name
and within its eddies
I shall drown
not to emerge again.

© 2017

Lines

oh! what vocation, poetry
should leaves remain upon a tree?
and what tales would balladeers bring
if nightingales refused to sing?

Unstring

unstring your lyres
and break the flutes
set the drums aside
silence now your music
for the poet, he has died
listen not to muses
nor to their soulful cries
all their songs
dead on the breeze
now that the poet died.

Scars

let us share the scars that love
has cut us through the years
before they pale and wash away
in showers filled with tears

let us explore what we once were
before the day we kissed
that we may know the parts of us
the fates have had us miss.