Assorted Poems
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An assortment of my poetry for your enjoyment

Two Hands


Two hands clasp in the darkness.

Two souls share an experience of life,

Witnessing love unfold before them.

Two mouths exchange endearments:

Words of love that vanish in the dark.

Two people walk under the pale moonlight.

Their love transcends the stars,

Their friendship never wavers.

A merged happiness:

Two as one,

Their lives intertwined,

If ever so slight,

Like the fingers of

Two hands in the night.
Love Lost


The gentle kiss of my one true love
I again may never know.
Her tenderness may nevermore
Cause my heart to glow.
Her hair, so soft and beautiful,
May brush no more against my face.
Her love for me, once so sincere,
Now lacks that certain grace.


We used to talk together
As if our lives were one.
Now, suddenly I realize
All that I should have done.
Remembering her tender touch,
Which brightened my peaceful life,
Now fills my cold and lonely heart
With sadness and with strife.


I now have only memories
Of all that used to be,
Along with a new perception
Of what she means to me.
Often I will find myself
Alone and cold, and then
I pray that what God plans for me
Is what now should have been.

Hold Me



Do not go and leave me here,
Among the dreams that we once knew;
Do not kill the things we had loved,
And the pleasure that was you.


Give me just the thought of you,
And all we might have been...
Let me hope the love we had
Might somehow have its chance again.



Let me dream once more of life,
Although I know it won't be true...
Hold me just a moment more,
And let me taste the touch of you.
A Reflective Sonnet


Standing on a beach, alone,
Deep within a meditative trance..
Staring at the sky's dark tone,
I contemplate the glittering stardance.


Waves of reality crash in my brain,
And much is clouded to my eyes..
My last bastion to keep me sane?
My persistent passion -- an effective disguise.


Build the walls, don't tear them down,
And cloak myself in night's cool breeze,
Be silent -- still -- not a sound,
I look within myself, and grieve.


Love, passion, and kisses three..
Close my eyes to help me see.
Letters


Hand-me-down regrets. They fall off the page, like petals from a dying flower. I never saw them before, in those days so far past, when the letters meant other things to me -- things that seem magnified now, from this different perspective.

The letters were a kind of unconsummated love.. the deepest kind of all, because its hopes remain forever intact, unspent.   Today, her face has faded into memory, and even these letters fail to call it back to me entirely, or to console me anymore.


Sometimes one holds the greatest treasure in one's hand and knows it only by its most prosaic characteristics.  Familiarity is an effective disguise.