I would like to be a writer. I began this site with amorous intentions, and over the course of time, I hope to have evolved as a male in an ever changing society that is today, recognizing the true beauty and elegance of woman. My words and notions will I hope respond in poetic verse of many genre and style. Come along and please share your ideas and insights. Thank you for your visit.

Posts tagged “poem

Waking Up Hushed


Morning always

eyes will open to more

in that early second

the remember,

the closure of a night sky,

when while listening

we sometime realize

we cannot answer any more.

 

We do wake though,

morning sunlight,

fresh emotion,

waking to the fond recall

a song on the radio

a time before,

and we do cherish

the instant reminder

of a love once were,

was.

 

I will wake again,

she will come to mind,

this time, next time,

every day the sun rises

will the want

the desire,

the passion,

become my own quiet

remind,

‘nights in white satin’

lovely is fantasy,

always remain


A Certain Solitude


I wonder sometimes

when sitting alone,

how quiet is my world

beyond my own.

I mean, let’s say, well for one thing,

I haven’t had my way,

would the gods be shouting

in favor or against me

 

I haven’t any way to know,

having found myself alone,

yet,

it is

rather it was

interesting

when the question

could be

easily resolved.


Solace


peace of mind rewind

there is a traveling soul

every one kind


Sweet Wine


Oh to taste lips of raspberry wine,

to imagine,

sweet love,

the moment passion

might sweep inside

desire’s mind.

 

Oh to know the essence

of her touch

when quiet

in the moonlit serenade

her gasp direct me.

 

Oh to wonder the sensual

nature of passion,

when unbridled a society

allows two lovers

to own magical lives as one.


Image

Speaking Silence


3


Steal Away Steel


He would

anticipate,

a sudden hope

if only

a memory might

draw upon her soul,

this familiar

knowledge of now,

the rains,

would he wish to steal away,

yet, somber like the

natural course of a fever

drawn cold upon

a glancing steel.


What Is Left Of A Dream


What once would be a smile,

is a soft yearn,

a quiet response

while the mind

could wish for play,

a sign,

some indication

might always allow

sweet recall,

her light

he would lose himself

if not for love,

if only this passageway,

her desire, a passion,

no longer readily

sworn to the moment,

the need

is forgotten.

 

There are the rains,

a gentle remind.