Unrequited Joy

She has a certain something

or more correctly stated

there is something about her

something so beautiful

     it can't be expressed in words

and thus makes the heart ache

in unrequited joy.

I've Much To Learn

From My Cats

I was needy today

so Gabby climbed in my lap

     to deliver a kneading.

She seemed quite content

to ply my soft belly with light steps

and to nuzzle my whiskered chin.

and distraught by my intentions to write.

She wished not to debate my problems,

didn't truly demand I return her affection,

just content to tenderize my tummy.

And then it occurs to me -

Were I to be more intent on planting virtues

I should be less in need

of uprooting vices.

Fewer Desires

I feel some things less intensely

than when I tarried near the front

and my listless old smile

and bitter knowledge of what was

          has gone away

carried with it as it crossed

what I feared, and much

          of what I desired.

There are few things left to desire;

a yellow and fragrant rose bush

          outside my window

or perhaps gardenias

          and night-blooming jasmine.

Merry-go-round

I knew things years ago
in ways long since forgotten
that I was dearly loved,
and summers' caressing breeze
whispers your name to my lips
while toying with my hair
recalling your absent touch.
 Is it now?  Is it now?
It has been forever
and still I wonder how
a twilight existence of ephemeral shadow
became a grim reality.
Assuredly,
my past does come to call and ride
the merry-go-round of my mind
taking but a moment
to engulf my present
and make it less a gift.

Memories

I

In many mornings'

        waking reverie

the soft fall

of your bare feet

        padding closer

was the messenger

come within my heart,

calling in secret

II

Not long before the dawn
I rose to watch you sleeping,
not knowing 'twas my intent
to bask in the holiness that covered you,
and there staying at your side
'til your waking fingers slipped around mine,
sleepy-soft eyes fluttering
to revive mornings' kiss
and greeting, "Daddy."

III

My un-poetic imaginings
recall her staring into another's eyes
as we had peered to depth
in our beautiful eyes,
and I drank the lees of her wine. . .

IV

I had to dissect a live frog once,
and knowing what to expect
was nonplussed to find
a beating heart inside.
Would that I had such skill
in navigating life and love
where there exist
no anatomical charts.

V
Soft, fair-pale skin,
tender searching hands,
hair dripping from mornings' shower
     traces across my waking chest,
those morning glory memories
go now weeping away.

Giant Moon

This moon looms large and low
rolling over the horizon
struggling skyward under its girth,
lumbering to climb the very trees
       caught in silver silhouette,
laboring to carry the weight aloft
of lovers caught in its pull.

Sun not fully set,
the eager celestial orb impatient
       to exert its influence,
to be captured by the throngs,
those paparazzi pens of poets
wide-eyed in wonderment,
and staring back mournfully,
       soulfully, bemusedly;
the spectacle it must see on rising,
amazed as an artist whose work
points to him in awe.

And spilling its beauty infinite
in graceful glide above
casts a surge of silver
through the windows of my soul.
And I have no magic to express
that moment of loveliness.

The Song Of You

The wind blows love songs from afar
And rides the night on a fallen star;
A glow of light from enchanted skies
Holds the trance that stills my eyes.
I'll kiss the song that fills the air
With haunting words that rise and flare.
 
Eyes of flame that know not shame
Speak of love and call my name;
Knowing eyes, soft glowing eyes,
That burn with tears and loves' surprise
To draw my heart so close to you
As rosebuds draw the mornings dew.
 
If I should be a great strong tree
Your tender self could lean on me.
Your touch would start and tear apart
Flames that consume an aching heart.
And I would be but smoke to rise
Forever lost in empty skies.