.....And in you I see a writer with a wonderful gift; capable of such beautifully eloquent writing. You are a true artist and are, in my opinion, unequalled in your ability to express yourself. I am, truly, your fan and enjoy our prosaic connection
bigpapadan

Wise Appreciation

Thy words of wisdom,
The evaluation
Of a prosaic poet,
Is in itself
A sign of divinity
Upon whose shoulders
Rests human dignity
To appreciate is in it
A gift divine,
It’s like drinking love
With eyes,
Like wine

A gun cause’s harm
To the innocent
Give justice to the guilty
Not so much the gun, but
The soul behind the gun

While my world sleeps
and the solitude of night
comes crashing in bringing thoughts
which fly around on strings
suspending kites of imagery's
that battle for their place
in mid-flight streams

The tug-o-war
of what was, what is,
and what might be pushes away
the possibility of sweet sleep
I wonder, will I ever rest?
I close my eyes so tight
but all I see on the curtain of my eyes
are the floating ghost
that look like bright lights

.
a spiral is a nice shape
round and round
up and down
three dimensional too

circles, they're ok
lines are cool
but, spirals-------------
-----(here, speechless)---

springy
active
and playful
dancing,
in graceful formulas,
spaciousness
and wonder

spirals wind,
and rewind
and remind me
of the universe
and my connection
with the ALL
and this,
by definition,
definitly
includes
you!

Your love asphyxiates, agitating
Stemming my breathe.
I'm struggling for air.

You apply more pressure,
an arm across my neck.
I'm  gasping for freedom.

Suffocating, squeezing so tight,
You're afraid to release me,
Scared I'll take flight.
   
You overwhelm me.
I’m dizzy and confused,
Losing consciousness.

Resting in peace beneath the earth
As the life that caused our existence
Goes back to heaven from whence it came
Ending the pain and suffering
Consuming our very soul

There Was a Time

`

Invisible but not voiceless,
This fire within me burning;
Fueled by things long since done;
Uncertain it would continue
And most certainly would one day end.

Resounding vermillion trains,
Travelling across frontier lands;
That began by fits and starts.
But this is just the beginning,
And most certainly is not the end.

Smearing the silence with my thoughts:
Scarlet ink on blue paper;
Conversing along the lines;
Uncertain it would continue,
And most certainly would one day end.

Through my eyes

You say you don’t feel beautiful
And you’re not the girl you were
You look into the mirror
It seem that things have changed

But baby,
you need to see what I see
And know you’re still the beauty
You’ve always been
Through my eyes

Don’t trust your eyes
For they only lie
I see how others look at you
And they want you as I do

So baby,
you need to see what I see
And know you’re still the beauty
You’ve always been
Through my eyes

Thy Voice May!

If these be

Thy kind words

Of earnest poetic ecstasy

Rise along with the Phoenix

And abide with me

Of that I’m certain

God shall return thy voice to thee.

You shall in time walk

Along with me

But by then

I would be standing isolated

At the threshold of eternity

From where no man

Can ever return

Know this ye.

For I continue to be

A naïve passer by

Retain your love for some one else

I am only a finger

To help erase strife