Alas, I have found you

Torn feet along the trodden path
I made my course along the way
moving through the windy peaks
of another darkened day,
cutting wind across my flesh
my eyes too blind to see
leaning in upon the mass
my weeping soul for to be free.

And then the sun it breaks the sky
shining upon my feeble frame
bringing with it songs of life
dispersing all my crying pain,
and beauty from the light did come
standing nigh upon sweetened air
her hands unfold to feel my reach
sunny smile and tender care.

Now my life it is fulfilled
every beat of my broken heart
sings brightly now with ticking time
as she and I are now one part,
verse is all that I may speak
for the language holds no weight
I express to you beyond this world
my eternal and loving soul mate.

‘Our’ little patch of ground

Tender little kisses, that’s what she is
hugs that bound the horizon
and gentle caressing hands that strewn my hair
she makes the sun shine brighter,
and fills my life with care.

Oh how the sweetness of tenderness
does shine away the shadows
no more despair in my plain views
melancholy all stripped away,
my lavender dancing muse.

I want to fly the clouds within your veil
and to always touch upon your stars
the ones that sing from out your voice
rippling through my vision,
making my humble heart rejoice.

Is this too much for one to ask
the subtle walk through open fields
to know the love is here not lost
among the clatter of the wields,
where devotion is a trying game
to see who will get what and when
money, material, children, commodity
the vicious cycle to no greedy end.

Nay, I say with covered ears
my eyes enshrouded with straining tears
and all the darker staring leers
that turn to my dismay.
But lo, I turn to see my light
she glows in all variety
shewing me the less plundered path
away from the common society.

She makes me whole and fills me up
my little world of knowing
that no one cares who we will love
or for what our deepest reasons;
and to look upon the rigid brows
of those who choose to move in strife
can never quake or shake our grounds
for ‘we’ are the creators of ‘our’ life.

The wings of dusk

Continuous and swarthy patterns
that landscape at my eyes
moving over tethered ropes
that boldly flutter among the ties,
wings that flap against the stone
reaching the never do heights
heavy breath and racing hearts
feeling the cold and bitter bites,
the gnawing of another day
breaking through the meaty brawn
tensing all that one creates
night crushing temples pawn,
muddy spew in un-gripped hands
no gasping left within bird
a shadows ridge at dawnings gate
and the painful admission of word.

Groundless footing

Stop twisting dammit!
You illegitimate thorn
always prickling at the flesh
your kisses a bloody swarm,
you ride me all the day long
everywhere I choose to seek
you point out all the failings
and grin shit from every cheek,
such a tiny little scar you are
that tears with every breadth
wreaking scoffing embellishments
like fish caught in a net,
they scour every piercing view
and wiggle away perspective
nothing new under the sun
new guise but same collective.

The gardeners dream

I keep myself busy
weeding out the ways
seeking for the heartship
of my soul,
I till the soil
and mend the rows
plucking out all the jade,
but the harmony is not found
in these glorious sunny days.

So again I am on bended knee
mulling through the dirt
removing unwanted growth
tenderly nurturing
caring and trimming
showering with adoration,
hoping soon
very soon.

Then the spring brings her fluid smile
blanketing all the buds
and each in turn will blossom
filling my garden with many hugs,
and there I sit among the colors
awaiting for one to tug
the one that will wax my heart
that one who will give me love.

The playful tide

There is a wellness deep inside
like the swelling of an ocean wave
it curdles over in flowing foam
and crashes in devastating rage,
but countenance is non consoling
to such a tyrannical kind of play
it dismisses the song of dashing
in an effortless breath of disdain,
yet the waters don’t go so easily
they thrash upon the brow
pulling and tugging asunder
crushing deep as that of a plow,
but soon the shorelines fall silent
where the sea has come to reseed
and calmness now is all knowing
with gentle gestures of one to take heed.