Warm in the Whisper

Warm in the whisper,
Late Midas rays ease the wind’s chill.

Deep vermillion stains
The red brick twilight,
painting on the slick black ocean
the day’s farewell.

Along the shore of the harvestless sea,
he strolls, his barren dreams
impediment to sleep.
He stoops, tears strafe
down icy cheeks, staining them with grief.

She plunges down like a hawk
From snowy Olympus,
Apology for wings,
Her love the soft uplifting rush of haste.

She kisses his flowing pain,
Embraced by grateful arms and
Wrapped in forgiveness. . .

The moon smiles.

Brazen Tide

Newly coiffed ocean
curled with highlighted tips,
flirts outrageously with
herculean cliffs.

Lightning spanks the waves.
Thunder remonstrates and
a disapproving moon
draws the brazen tide
back a decent distance.

The curls now straight and
highlights just a twinkle,
a respectful tide returns
apologetically, to lap
the pebble beach
in quiet respect.

All is forgiven

Unclaimed Legacy

She loaned her hair to the playful wind,
to toss and tangle in the cause of fun;
to wind around each gust
and curl as do the clouds
in an Autumn hurricane.

She showed her smile to the sun
to inspire its brilliance;
enough to share with the moon
and scatter among the stars
in a treacle sky.

She offered her heart to the broken world,
to mend its hurt and heal its scars;
she loved the unlovable,
touched the untouchable,
with her kindness
and wisdom.

She slipped away

Missed by the wind and the sun. . .

But the world forgot the love.

You kissed my eyes to wakefulness
and traced my lips with your finger
until they smiled.

Heaven is blue.
I saw it in your gaze,
through the tears your pity brought.

Your essence
was a promise,
kept by moonlight.

In the morning
I dressed in your favourite dress. . .

fortunately it was black.

LOST

Defiant granite fists of cliff
scarred sore by vengeful tempest,
scything squall.

Towering testament
to battles fought and won;
stained by tides unleashed
of Hades quench.

Unforgiving guardians of place.

She stands atop.

Her hair tossed wild
by playful breeze now tame.
She is swathed in woven drape
thrown shoulder wide
for careless warm.

Her mirror tears
reflect his ship lost South,
beyond horizon's reach
to Heaven's sea.

Her granite friends stand firm,
remind her soul
of times when he returned,
of laughter shared,
of flesh made one,

a new life stirs. . .

a rose is tossed.

Sun Blocked!

Cliche`s unappreciated,
fall as leaves from Autumn tree,
metaphors like closing doors
conceal their message silently.

Alliteration reaps frustration,
muddled messages maligned,
Conjugations' variations
dangerously ill designed.

Spondee's non-syllabic form
as dactyls invoke terror,
my tetrameter's non-trochaic,
pure iambic error.

Slake my thirst , uncork the flow
from inspiration's jeroboam,
burst the dam of jumbled words
to grant an innovative poem!

The Rocking Chair

Rocking gently, soothing kindly,
burnished wood, frames
friend of years.

Age old warmth, lit soft by memory,
sweetened anguish,
nectared tears.

Place of peace or rock of ages,
heirloom etched
by love honed scyth.

Woven threads of precious wisdom,
Passed by thoughts
on whispered sighs.

New life cradled,nurtured, treasured,
passed to life
by loving arms

One day to complete the circle,
rocked in age
by an old friend's charms.