Sunday, September 25, 2005

The Measured Metered Lyric of Life’s Great Poem

I am witness to the end stage of love.
What love ripens into...
There is a rhythm and a cadence
to their existence,
they are dancing still.
Bent frames and
Lost inches do not take away
the memory of steps .
Their loving and their yelling,
measured and metered into a smooth
direct route’s poetry,
dog-eared, and worn thin...
One aged heart to the other
the youth of their love,
long past beneath some thieving door.
Morphed along the way into travelers wandering about
in the rich soil of love’s wisdom...
Where senses no longer sense and
minds are no longer sharp with clarity and recall,
bodies bent, broken, and fading.....
dancing still
to the measured metered lyric of life’s great poem...

Thursday, September 08, 2005

She had a smile
that never quite reached her eyes;
always ending at the slightly turned up corners
painted on the edges of her mouth;
lovely crater home,
a hive of sweetness full of sting.
But still her smile
tattooed itself into my heart
and made me bleed with tenderness.
So captivated was I by her beauty;
the eloquent hollowness, the superb emptiness...
and I climbed the mountain to her soul
where vapor filled my fingers,
i had made the long and difficult trip
only to find it was not there.
She must have fallen from the stars to swiftly
to grab a spirit for her journey.
She imitated humans with no humanity as a guide,
only television shows viewed over and over
solo in the night
learning to perfect the illusion of a gentle eccentric nymph
leading me into her madness with a smile.
"Suzanne takes me down to her place by the River",
and I followed so easily, so unaware...
a smile that lite my world with empty eyes
Oh imagine when I awoke,
my surprise.