Transitional Glories Of The Forlorn

Photo by Roberto Nickson on Pexels.com

Transitional glories of the forlorn
Where do we begin to find solace
Ancient cries of those forgiven
Trading a reckoning for eternal bliss

Standing high on a sailor’s mount
Searching for souls in which to confide
A bounty shall be easily & surely lost
Yet remaining steadfast with the coming tide

Let Us Survive These Dog Days

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Let us survive these dog days
The warmth still rising up to a boil
I’d rather be walking down the beach
But I’m forced to relentlessly toil

I wish to be holding your hand
As we walk in the evening’s glow
Soft words filled with eternal promises
For your love is the last I’ll ever know

I Love What’s Feminine

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I love what’s feminine for its own beautiful sake
Walking out into Mother Nature & breathing in Earth
I’m collecting thoughts & addicted to smiling
A deliberate course to truly live ever since my birth

Feeling the distinct notion of life’s pulse
To emerge from here unbroken & mostly unscathed
To seek out joy & embrace hope where it lives
A stroll in pure sunshine; to be regeneratively bathed

No longer shall I listen to competing voices
I’m going to soak up compassion until I’m through
Outside of the distractions, I’ll grow softer
Finding contentment admits love’s eternal residue

Image by pixel2013 from Pixabay

Ocean Force Winds

sailing-vessel-1861783Crisp ocean force winds

Gentle fresh citrus scent

Lost upon the eternal sea

Forgot where beauty went

A treatise of delicate love

Evidence of a ghost

Smile your sweet smile

I’ve left for the coast

Sound of muted voices

She’s a little too cute

Allowing no more secrets

Down through my roots

Sheets & Reams Of The Nonsensical

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Sheets & reams of the nonsensical
Literary blood lost in the shadow of ink
The lifeforce of a simmering soul
Marginal hearts writing love against the kitchen sink
Leaving behind the caricature of an artist
Contributions to society felt in these empty sheets
Fingersmudges marking pages not so white
Starkly exposed with revolutionary words in the streets
Traces of hereditary ideals eroding away
Igniting pages shall still be a stilted sin
Yet we rise again from our desert floor
Eternally grateful our finite letters aren’t porcelain

I Won’t Impress You

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I won’t impress you
Doesn’t matter who you are
I drink cheap wine
But enjoy Cuban cigars
I won’t play that game
There’s no benefit to me
This heart is not for sale
Honest, humble & eternally free