would I yield to thee?
if so then my heart is lost
oh! but what ruin.
poet
Tired Eyes
that such days weigh heavy
on eyes that need to weep
it is for dreamless wandering
they long for in their sleep
away with insecurities
and allegoried quests
let the graves of Morpheus
hold them in their rest
A Ritual
these lines betray ceremony
a composition’s liturgy
which determines
if these words
are ever to be heard
or if the page in time
will burn
discarded
but should they form the poetry
of those emotions known to me
then the rite
of how I write
will find its rhyme
and remain unto the world
regarded.
Farewell To Song
farewell to song
you did me wrong
though your intent was pure
you spoke in smiles
with words beguiling
I can hear no more
farewell my muse
I did not choose you
when you came to play
bewitching airs
that my heart stirred
but now I must away..
away from verse
that did divert my
heart from other things
but in my leaving
’tis self deceiving
for I’ll return to you…
…and sing
Reimagined Moon Sonnet
there is nought within the moon
that itself should flavour love
but those passions we imbue above
at the times we both commune
and in such meetings are we immune
to desires it’s beams speak thereof
the silvered light of the beloved
music of the spheres, the tune
which cause our hearts a merry dance
weightless as our sister’s face
and for the future’s blessed chance
that we should glory in the grace
of love’s devout eternity
in her sea of pure tranquility
The Quiet
this quiet calls from other times
days in which no gods did dwell
nor were they needed on this earth
for she herself had not yet fell
victim to the cries of shame
that was brought down from the trees
by those who made gods in their name
and gave to them their disease
which in hubris they would spread
beyond their own alloted place
to curse the silent good green world
and bring forth tears across her face
Do Not Dwell
was it written in the stars
did runic cards foretell?
has a witch enchanted me
with an ancient spell?
can it be pure coincidence
or luck which led me here
fortuitous happenstance
that lifted my heart clear
from darkness which encompassed it
before you touched it so
what mysteries discovered us
I guess I’ll never know
nor dwell upon the magic
that brought us to this place
accepting that it is just so
and always was my fate.
Spring
there is a far shore
beyond winter’s horizon
it knows but springtime
Dunes
desolate sand dunes
as far as the eye can see
is life a mirage?
The Young Poet [3]
in the meter of his verse
the mark of time withstood
for in time’s waters is full writ
the truth lost to his blood.