life

Second Hand Slap

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All first’s happen one time.
Seconds echo a chosen chime.
Good or bad, meant or meant not to be,
tick we must pain’s always free.

Mistakes made and signal’s crossed.
Paths fork and feelings tossed.
Years pass and pressure mounts.
Seconds loom and the hand counts.

Clocked anew, wound with care.
Wrapping remains, none’s to share.
Tower’s built and time slips away.
A distant hand wins the day.

Habitual motions come around.
The passersby haunt and hound.
Dictated emotions can’t run away.
Spindled and bound forever and a day.

Controlled by movement, most unseen.
Shattered glass cuts unclean.
Time’s told to all who listens.
Killing seconds the first hand glistens.

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 Striking Similarities

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Cycling around dimensions, three.
Horizons bend to curve all we see.
Energy’s absorbed when given free.

Settled comforts to some fond.
Or near to crest on rippling pond.
Projecting forward, life’s beyond.

OR’s’ of age when all is time,
passion drives a life sublime,
treading secure or await the chime.

Choose chosen when choices few.
Three’s what’s given, the rest up to you.

~*~
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Urban Renewal

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A northern shade a northern mill
Prospering times growing still
Bell towers boarded, time to kill
Cracks abound, pigeon’s shrill

Divisions divide buds as before
Docks and bays and wavy floor
Doors or windows less not more
Sky’s above all’s for sure

Light shines down space to fill
Earth’s breaking at its will
Rain quenches drenching poor
Life returns to green and cure

~*~
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Unbuilding

An open mind, an open door
Footsteps patter on the floor
Yet when I sit there is no more
Do more await? I unsure

To stand and be risen unknowns arise
Ceilings reachable below endless skies
Truth’s unheard written of lies
Right and wrong said before our eyes

Walls surround; Air, earth and skin
Fences seen higher trapped within
Fall and fail or leap and win?
Gates close when new sides begin

~*~
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Shooting Blinks

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Suns fade quicker when back’s turned.
Dawns risen tastier yearned.
The shade’s darker beneath the tree.
Yet it is we who choose to be, there and then.
Forever then never ends, only now, not if or when.
Blinks miss winks, parch quenched, only now to see.
Suns fade brighter when dawn’s earned, risen and turned.

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Feathers of Time

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With a bow to fateful inspiration, I shall cast skyward, beyond the heavens and to the heart of a most divine princess. Though this arrow will not pierce nor blemish all that is pure. For it will levitate before her command, awaiting thoughtful reply. It is then thy arrow shall propel and traverse, returning to my waiting, wanting and out stretched hand. And with this most sacred and singular of tools I trust and follow; deserts and plains, rivers, forests, seas and frozen peaks where only the arrow dare soar, I do confidently tread. Upon the highest pinnacle I will see the light and be guided. Drawn by the heat of shared passions, we attract and we shall meld and mold, we will unite as one and become the bow, two parts equal. Tied with care and precision we are flexible and strong. The arrow does no wrong.

~*~

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Giggles and Tears of Joy

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I see your inner child; fragile and pure.
I’m the little smitten boy that rolls on your floor.
I give you dandelions every day in the Spring.
Summers had without a care on your backyard swing.

We blow bubbles and dance in tall wet grass.
School years of bliss blossom, too soon to pass.
Stealing first kisses, to the prom, home on-time.
Off to college enriching our minds, soon to be sublime.

We travel the world and fall in love anew.
We eclipse eternity; hand in hand, me and you.

~*~

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Poetic Ironies of Introduction

To whom it may inspire

To love a poet; pasts can be revised, futures imagined with exuberance and love, ah yes love, our’s sculpted in stone as the eternal benchmark for all others to hopelessly seek. The now will be forever envisioned in each other’s eyes and made more beautiful. Time will never simply tick away, but be the metronome of our heartbeats in sync. Though sadness inevitable for it is this love of life, love of love and love of words to express that may seemingly leave too little time for true love, it is not I assure you, for time can concentrate, intensify and encapsulate. Be my ecstasy and I forever yours. Two timers need not apply as heart breakers divide and multiply, others free to indulge and imagine with me a mutual double fantasy. Seeking inspiration, passions and enthusiasm with enthused inspired passion. Innuendo not implied for it is implicit. Thus is me, I conclude.

Hopelessly Hopeful…

 

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