Poetry Archive II

Almost Perfect
If only I could find
the right words.…
Oh yes, look, it’s so simple—
There they are, like footprints,
written in my heart

Wherefore the Umbrella?
Rainshade, gamp, parapluie,
cursed bloody
Nearly useless in a storm
Yet picture this—
Lovers strolling,
arm in arm,
a gentle rain…
They turn, eyes meet,
her lips seek his,
they touch, forever

Northern Lights
She walks, as in a dream,
far, far away, my south,
my summer heart, my life

A distant star, my north,
has taken winter’s heart,
another sort of light, my life

The farthest shore, my west,
the heart of autumn’s love,
sheds leaves and scattered raindrops

Come back, my life, my east,
the spring awaits your heart,
the crystal shore, your love

I remember the first time I saw you
How for days you didn’t know I was there
You offered a precious prize
Your soul captured in an image
But maybe I was the only one to see it there
Perhaps I was the only one to care

Looking Glass
So tell me a story, love, sing it to me once….
It’s already written, at least the opening lines
Tell me how a prince becomes a king
with only a word from his true queen
How a nymph becomes a goddess,
her children, their children, little gods
gathered at her feet like tiny wild saints
beseeching their Madonna for a smile
Tell me how he waited, ages out of time,
longing for that kiss of raven and snow,
and rubied lips just barely parted
How golden eyes set loose his charm
from uncounted days of longing lust
Tell me how they invented passion
on sands of coral pink, and unsated, taught it
to the mermaids in foamy waters nearby
How their hearts beat solidly together,
and their bodies left the earth as mists
in their unguarded moments, hard won
So tell me that story, darling, cry on me
when you hurt, and bite my lip hard
when you kiss me, I won’t flinch from the pain
I know the story far too well to judge
Have known it deep within, never saying,
but never forgetting, phrase or verse
of its cloudy image, adrift in time, alone,
the looking glass of every hope of mine

Chanson D’Amour
Sing with me girl,
dance with me to
your music and mine
Love with me girl,
live with me in
our fey kaleidoscope,
and we’ll be fine,
so very, very fine

All the while, all the bloody while,
she stood there, waiting for me
to unlock the gate in the wall
But I was the fool, you see,
to think I held the key
For all the while,
the prisoner
was me,
not she

Carousel Psalm
On this our past, our now, our future turn about the wheel,
your footprints follow mine as mine retrace your own
All else is mist and prism flash and cymbal crash undone
We stare at one another in our clear-eyed search for truth,
intensely seeking silence midst kaleidoscopic lies
Yet why should we not covet daily pleasures offered thus,
gaily painted wooden ghosts, phantasms of rainbow scent
in broken mirrored boxes of conceit and lust—hypnotic dance
Our journey shoes worn thin with waltzing past the image,
we stop, but moving still as two when worldly passions call
A ripple in the haze, and candles shoot like rockets spraying
both of us with fire that never burns, too cold a flame
to catch our victory lap as two, and yet we cry as one:

You are my eyes.  When you see, I dream
You are my lips.  When you smile, I laugh
You are my heart. When you are in pain, I bleed
You are my voice.  When you speak, I sing
You are my hands.  When you touch, I feel
You are my soul.  When you have faith, I live

You are my love in many ways too great for
Heaven’s test, but still I wonder, would I fail
to gather water for your journey, if we but only kissed

Within a Labyrinth Darkly
When taking one more breath becomes what hurts the most,
to put oxygen in blood that flows through the chambers of a
shattered nautilus to a mind better left without memories…
Memories that never go anywhere but to the cracked, grayed,
faded old mirror that somehow still reflects one last, sickly,
fraudulent gleam of hope in a dark room….

Then only one choice remains, in this importunate faerie world
where everyone lies to themselves and cheats their own hand
at solitaire played by two’s in front of a crowd of laughter
What choice is this you may ask, but you know, don’t you—
know the glaring, searing pain when you open the fucking door,
leaving sunlight to burn away the ashes of a lost embrace….

There are no ends, there are only means, and endless openings
to the labyrinth of souls in which the air is too cold to breathe,
blood too stiff to flow, mind too inconsequential to exist
in any universe but this unholy purgatory that would be hell,
if not for that damned single ray of hope that won’t diminish,
won’t give in, won’t let a broken heart finally be consumed….
If only to lie awake in the dark

Sultry Little Witch of Mine
Flying here, flying there, flying up—no, down,
maybe hither, maybe tither, yet maybe yon
Flitting ’round, just barely clad, caring less,
she laughs, shedding random magic

“Spell this,” she chirps, with cutest tease,
sexy nose and sexy fingers pointing
Sexy little slip of dress she nearly wears,
almost clinging, hardly there at all in twilight

All in purple, all in black—no, crimson,
or maybe green, yet maybe blue—can’t tell…
‘Tis iridescent—every hue and tone,
glimmering gay, adrift on silken flight

In my hair, everywhere, is magic—magic words,
magic moves, magic eyes to steal my heart
When Hallows Eve is gone once more,
will I be left with only hint of wine-sweet kiss

Her ebon locks, like blackest night,
wrap surely ’round, trap arms that reach
That long to touch, that dare to love,
the sultry witch who haunts my dreams

With darkness filling
secret places of the heart,
shun not the proffered light
Shadows fade in midnight gloom
Yet it’s shadows prove we’re real,
and ghosts alone cast none

A Bard’s Song
But when the time is right, when
the moon cries on autumn leaves,
I want to be your bard, your song,
to be your smile, to be your wine….

May sweetness drip upon your lips,
let softest zephyrs lift your hair
A poet’s hand to hold in yours,
a poet’s voice caress your soul….

And when the singing time is done,
when shadows flee to winter’s end
When springtime’s blossoming’s begun,
the summer poet’s song is sung….

When Shadowlands’ dark moon’s arisen,
my joy you’ll be to sing my heaven
And when my kiss has gather’d yours,
then love’s not lost—in truth, is given

It’s early in the day—
I can say this if I hurry,
take it down before the sevens
turn the day to tens and twos….
I had the strangest dream
early by the eve’s dark light
I don’t remember much,
wasn’t meant to, not at all
I don’t think so, lest I tell—
Risk a future where that night
becomes a well-remembered past
I don’t remember much at all….
Might I fathom only feelings,
and the gift she offered me—
But one image yet remains,
like halos ’round and ’round
the summer moon at midnight,
before a wetted morn in fall….
That photograph remembered,
figure lithe and gayly dancing,
clothed only in soft light,
dusky grey and silver dawn….
Her truth, my joy, and proof—
Living proof that we believed

The Dancers
Going up or coming down,
be not dizzy going ‘round
On the roof or on the staircase,
always seeking, often loving
Let our hearts be light and true,
never trapped nor earthly-bound
Meet me often in the spiral,
meet me once on hallowed ground
There our cares shall be forgotten,
there our sweet embrace be found
There our final song be spoken,
there our eulogy be sung
Let the bells toll out our courage,
let the mourners cry aloud
We won’t be there, will we darling,
we won’t stay to hear the sound
They may linger in remembrance,
we’ll be dancing on a cloud

Gabriel’s Song
Would all our paths be so sublime,
and beauty fill our blessed time
Yet rocky trails seem always
on our minds, so I’ll follow you
on yours, and you on mine…

I walked my route from dawn to sleep,
seeing much, and missing more,
the days were long and costly,
with dreams between, some troubling,
some deep, and heard the music playing
Softly it sang to me from somewhere
just behind, and so I turned,
and seeing a soft blue light, I stared,
more closely than I dared,
and found an angel standing there
“Have you been following me,” I asked
“All your life and more,” she said
“Are you my angel,” I wondered, not aloud—
But, “I’m not yours, you cannot keep an angel”
Just then I noticed the girl,
the one whose hand the angel held,
and surely as the moon cries on broken waters,
I knew she meant more to me than life
I knew not who she was, but remembered
her lovely face, had seen her in my dreams

“What’s your name,” I whispered,
“You’re lovelier than stardust”
“Joy,” she whispered back to me,
“And stardust’s what I am, and so are you”
“Why have you been following me,” I asked
“But it’s you who’ve followed me,” she said
Suddenly, the world turned blue and green,
and crimson-hued, and shifted in its orbit,
stars redirected their intent….
It woke me from my dream, but nothing changed,
only my perspective, and I saw that it was true,
what she had said, we’d been following
each other, and so, for a long while, we walked
our paths together, and ventured to hold hands
And when we did, the veil was pushed aside,
and everything (not quite, but enough) came clear,
and I saw beside me a being of the Light,
of reddish tint, whose eyes seemed to shine
He looked everywhere, at me, at Joy, at the
angel beside her, and at the endless road before us

“Are you my angel,” I asked, this time aloud
“I’m not yours but I’m here for you,” he replied
And I knew from memories so far behind, his Name
“You’re my singer, aren’t you,” I dared to question
“Not just yours, but your companion’s too”
“The path before you, yours and Joy’s,
will need much light and love and music, too
You two have far to go together, never let her go”
And then and there I resolved, that even when
she didn’t know it, I’d hold her tight
I learned my name that day, while angels
walked beside us, the name I never knew
before but sought from every corner
of the world, in every place of beauty and of sin
I’d been seeking Truth, but my search
should have been within, not without,
For I was called Truth, and Truth and Joy
were meant to walk the universe together
You cannot find one without the other,
and together they made a child,
that eternal child called Love

6:24 AM
It’s 6:24 on a Thursday morn,
and I can hear the city workmen
carting off the broken pieces
of our throw-away lives,
the stained and dirty secrets
we thought we got rid of so easily
by simply tossing them into those bins
thoughtfully provided for the purpose
But we never think about where it all ends,
our broken pieces and soiled yesterdays,
piled together in a field somewhere,
waiting patiently to become the soil
that nourishes our tomorrow

She said to me, at 3 am, that I wasn’t over it,
that I’d not truly forgiven, not even myself,
because I still remembered the details
of what I thought I needed to forgive….

With that, she sent me to my bed, told me
it was late, and it was, and so I slept,
and dreamt of starlit seas and oceans of them above
No clear horizons between them, separate still they remained,
with no reason for one to resent the other’s beauty

When I awoke, to late summer sun so warm,
I wondered, that I couldn’t think of why….
Why she’d so rarely cried in front of me
And then I let the thought, the tattered, misty thought,
scatter in wispy tendrils into oblivion, burning away cleanly,
like the last, ragged bits of an early morning fog

Wild Pixies
I believe in magic
I believe in 
and wild pixies
and the 
feral nobility of elves
I believe 
in the power
of imagination to
 change the world,
that God
 empowered man thusly
for that 
and I believe in you

Unsafe Passage
I would not leave you at that shore,
a treacherous windy coast foresworn
Come sail away to seek with me,
we’ve better lands and stars to see
Better hearts to call our own,
and better selves to find in Thee

Song Bird
What I want to say to you,
I’ve done in so many tongues,
my native one terrified of hope….
Languages at my beck and call,
frivolous reminders that I’m nobody
of importance, except perhaps
when you look at me, when you
your faerie eyes my way,
I tremble,
 consumed by senses
I knew not to exist
 just yesterday,
yet now I find my self-
importance laid waste,
I’m just a silly
 bard, singing silly rhymes,
and then,
 and only then, I know
I have to sing 
my silly verses with respect,
for that 
is how I want you to hear them

A Freshly Wind
What may be this stormy brilliance
come upon my weary watch
Oh what fresh’ning wind befall me
on this perilous small yacht
Shall I shelter in calm harbors,
set a course for un-adventure,
reef my sails, take in the main,
keep it safe for my debenture
Or is mine the priceless treasure
on some island beach I’ll find,
if I rig my weather mainsail,
and prepare my boat for rime
Set the genoa to run out,
shift my rudder to the force,
let the weather take a free turn,
let the helmsman plot the course
So be still my racing heartbeat,
be thee calm my apprehension,
give me over to these winds that blow,
costing only my pretension

When Dreams Are
When dreams are the other side of the glass,
imagination begs to become real
A hand turns, showing past on one side
and presence on the other…
On which side shall you rest your soft cheek?
Which side shall receive your sweet kiss?
Let history be, noting only its misty image in passing
Rest gratefully in the present,
bearing the unborn future in the fertile womb of your soul
Let starshine warm your heart,
let your dream be joined to another and yet another,
and thereby make a world unbreakable

Untitled Shorts
When we journey,
is it new places we seek,
or a new place in time
The truest love is not the first,
but last you’ll ever hold
The blade so swift and keen,
that severs without shame
Cuts doubly deep and clean,
the hand from whence it came
And the moments crept like leopards,
And the days raced like fleeing zebra,
But the years passed not at all

Lullaby II
Meet me soon down by the wildwood,
rest your head against my shoulder
I’ll stroke your lithesome back,
whisper softly you to sleep
You’ll rest your weary eyes
to the music of the spheres
I’ll follow close behind and,
give kisses sweet to banish fears

If by sleeping I do bide with you,
let waking be my sorrow
But knowing only lonely dreams,
I’ll speak with you tomorrow

For Robin’s Way
Walk away from us, Robin my boy,
you know too much to tell
When you reach the garden gate,
don’t turn around, just linger
See the sunrise, say farewell

My hands reach out for you,
my arms to ease your strain
I’ll kiss away your teardrops,
soothe your heartbeat,
soothe the pain
The miles they matter not,
the distance is no more
My soul wants but to be with you,
leave your sadness at my door

Flying Carpet
This morning as I rushed to dress,
for one more mad distraction
I saw it peeking through the socks,
“Official World Attractions”
Pristine pages watched me spy,
and whispered tales of greatness
War, romance, adventure, lust,
accusing me of fakeness
My wistful glances moved my dog,
to cast a wary, wolfish glare
If looks could kill, I’d be afraid,
back slowly ‘way, avoid the stare
But after all, it’s just a book,
my unstamped, virgin passport
My pocket-magic carpet ride,
the ticket to my transport
And if I tarry one more year,
before I launch my schemes
My magic carpet will fly far,
but only in my dreams…..

Kiss of Death
Beware the Black Mamba,
should you journey
in Africa, which I commend
Naught’s black on a Mamba,
unless you taste her
in Africa, which I once did
But then ’twas too late,
I was lost forever
in Africa, which cannot be

Your music teases merrily,
soft moments from my day
And empty places in my mind
fill quickly with your play
If I could ask one boon of you,
this plea would be my song
Go gather yet more wildness, but
don’t tarry there too long

Summer Wine
The sweetest summer grapes are those
that braved the winter’s cold
The truest love is not the first,
but last you’ll ever hold

There is a gated garden,
along our fated path,
Our steps we choose so blithely,
forgetting where we’ve passed
The question that remains to us,
as we peer through the yin
Is are we looking outside,
or are we looking in

Mi Vida Mila
Oh words would I still whisper,
if you alone could hear—
I see a life, a nightly dream,
pushed back by daily fear
Know this one thing, if knowing thus
means breaking your creation—
The world cares not to notice us,
among its drunken nations
“Ofrezco todo mi amor,
eres mi vida, Mila”

Original Sin
I was given, at my first birthday party,
a gift sublime, a lovely, lush garden
I played among its fonts and flowers,
traded baseball cards with Atlas and Athena,
rolled in high grass with iridescent dragons
Then one fine day through leaflets high,
I spied a fat juicy fig, haloed by Summer sun
The tree was poison, I knew, its sweet fruit
most likely bad as well, but in my arrogance
I climbed the trunk, got tangled in its branches
I lost control, lost something never truly held,
and fell, through viney snarls and vicious thorns
Fell farther than I ever rose, to putrid death,
moldered slime beneath the canopy
of verdant paradise on gentle hillside above
I crawled about in mud and earthen warrens,
slowly, year by year, learned to walk again
But arrogant I remained—had not my 
lesson learned,
and so I doubled-down,
made mockery
of this chance for redemption
All the sweet virgins did I rape,
and teach 
our children sin,
in crystalline waters 
I did shat,
mulched fields, amber and green,
with cigarette butts and baggies
listless on Autumn winds
When Winter finally came, as winters must,
to kill off weakened souls, and make
the garden ready for new guardians,
I did not learn, I did not take the blame…
It’s Him, I cried, I have not power to do this!
But then my youngest daughter sobbed
She watched, sadly, out clouded windows
and, looking up at my limpid, sullen eyes
crawled into my arms one last, lonely time
to face what I could not—Behold, the Silent Spring

Poet’s pen found artist’s brush,
slow dancing in a flame
Eternal song in passion’s rush,
creation’s seed became

Star Crossed
This starry place in time
becomes a watery world
I swim for cloudless shores
and caring eyes to see
the rainbow cross my soul

Starshine wild runs deep and true
Within his breast and hers
Crimson fire, ice mountain blue
Of flesh yet not the earth’s
She’s purest gold, he’s silver hued
Newly born—immortals
Lovers sent to challenge truth
Bright world they’ll make for all

Wander Wonder
There is a thing called wanderlust,
and wondered so I often have
Is wandering the mistress fey,
and lust the master hand,
or is it
 t’other way around
and traveling 
the plan
I have this lust for wondering,
but wandering do mistrust
Are my travels mere seductions,
and the places, lovers grand,
or is it 
other times I seek,
my voyaging
 in sand
There is a thing called wanderlust,
but wonder more I shan’t
I travel when and where I will,
stay long or little and,
my footprints
 pace the land of time,
my trekking be
 my stand

Wherever I search, you see,
the way I find to love
is always you

The Stoning Point
Hands wait behind the veil,
wanting, reaching, yearning
Yearning to touch,
to burn 
with such fierce passion
Made strong by one fate,
limbs and loins well spun
Impassioned by two fates,
heart shot through with desire
Constrained by three fates,
dread witches of dull certainty—
Tear down the dark curtain,
ride heedless into destiny unknown
Force the shards of time 
to be forged anew
To gleam, keen blue edge
to strong blackened spine—
An inconsequential life
can never be ex cal liber

Spring Mourning
Japanese cherries and Japanese plums,
Dogwoods white and pink, and Bradford pears,
pregnant with new life, about to bloom
Warm sun, damp ground, barely chill air, misty…
Only missing footprints next to mine

Do You Remember
Do you remember that night so long ago
when I died for you so foolishly
But you were the real hero that time,
although they would have called you heroine,
and they did, because, before you sighed
your last, aching breathe as you lay
across my bloody, pierced chest,
you saved our clan with ferocity and speed,
spurred on by the sight of my demise,
and the risk of our young children
Ten thousand years have passed
since that bloody night so dark
I’ve learned much in many lifetimes,
my soul grown old and wise,
but my blood still burns for you,
your bold stallion in second summer
When next we face the darkness,
I will not let you go, will not perish,
and our progeny shall remember
the deeds we will have done together

What’s the Rush
If you’ve ever wondered,
and I know you often do,
why I’m in such a hurry
to know you better, so curious
It’s because there’s so much
conversation to enjoy,
so much to see along the way,
so many things to do, and…
Dinners to share together,
sexy dreams to whisper,
stories to tell together,
especially, the story of us

Ares and Aphrodite
When the last fated star goes dark,
the Red god and his goddess will finally rest,
like sated lovers, joined in fateful slumber
Yet even then, their spirits strong,
their passions unmatched,
they’ll find each other in the gloom
For, like diamonds are forever and 
rubies are eternal,
this love story
will surpass the end of time

Phantasm(a micro-story)
For centuries I have waited…
Eyes of steel watching eyes of gold, raven tresses and alabaster skin, briefly glimpsed, racing gaily through endless dream forests…
All the encouragement I have had for lifetime upon lifetime.  My lonely heart has been tested countless times, I have failed more than I can remember.  A flawed champion chasing the wrong passions and bargaining with ideals.
But still, I am here and I am true.  More than anything, I crave to be her Phoenix.  To rise from the ashes of defeat and fly screaming triumphant into the sun, wings blazing in fiery defiance of my long exile.
A hero king to stand beside the goddess queen, facing an uncertain future hand in hand.  A legendary pair, eternal epic brought to life.
But like my namesake, ancient Pendragon of Avalon, my wings are clipped, claws blunted, flames stilled.  I fly weakly in the face of a mythic wind, I am brought ingloriously to earth by the trickster wizard with every attempt.
It needs her love…
Or am I doomed to watch silently, knowing that it may be another thousand years before we come to the same place.  My battered wings drip scarlet with blood and desire.

Raindrops fall 
through glistening snow,
gently caressing the soil,
and the earth stirs once again
in the ancient dance of life

Love Is
Love is a seed deep inside
a lush treat called desire,
sweet and too easily eaten
when ripe and firm fleshed
Love is a river, swift and deep,
grabbing playfully with intent
at our feet, wet and restive
on beaches of curious sand
Love is a zephyr through time,
blowing gently yet brutally
through a universe of stars
made brilliant by uncertainty

Valentine Dream
I have this dreamgirl Valentine,
she never says if she’ll be mine
Her luscious lips aren’t mine to kiss,
such golden eyes I often miss

For in my dreamworld forest roams,
a goddess born, so far from home
The land of shadows her delight,
I love her so, but there’s my plight

If I could ever claim her heart,
I’d cherish her, I’d do my part
We’d spend our lives in warmest sun,
and always know we’re with The One

You’d never guess my troth be staked,
on angel’s smile and thirst not slaked
If only once she’d change her mind,
she’ll be my Always Valentine

The Trouble With Bubbles
I found a bubble, simple thing,
of water, soap, and air
It danced upon my senses,
settled lightly in my hair
A water nymph, a naiad bare,
I spied amidst the foam
A sexy bath she offered me,
when came she to my home
And when she finished bathing,
just wet tresses did she wear
She teased me so with no relief,
left memories so fair
I love my comely bubble nymph,
and always must, you see
Her magic charmed my heart away,
I’m bubble trouble free

A specter guards my vision,
a photograph remembered,
quickly passed before my eyes
Such an unforeseen surprise,
an unexpected magic kiss,
a lover’s softest touch to lips
A lovely tease, so gaily driven,
to take my heart for herself,
secret it from my soul, keenly riven
I give it freely, warm in her delight,
silvery star shines on me again,
faerie dust clears my mortal sight

A Writer’s Life
This writer’s perfect life would be lived with you,
alongside each other and so, so full
We’d travel to distant places and nearby parks,
talk to unusual people, do amazing things,
taste strange wines and eat delicious food,
take photographs of wonders and make notes
Until our passports and our suitcases overflowed,
with needful things and heedless memories and then
We’d come home, to our little piece of  bliss,
where cluttered desk faced messy table,
just barely far enough away from one another,
that we could get our best work done
Secrets would be shared without speech,
kisses would be blown unlooked for
We’d write, you your stories and me my verse,
the words would pour from us uniquely,
shared experiences seen differently,
and yet the same theme would run through all
There’d be a big kitchen too, yours of course,
filled with spices we’d collected, and with love,
We’d cook, but sometimes you’d push me out,
you’d need that time alone and so would I,
I’d go and wet a line, and my feet, bring home fish,
and crabs, and mussels, and shiny trinkets found
And certainly there’d be a beach nearby,
where we would walk long walks, hand in hand,
and you would dance for me and I for you,
I’d fall in love again each day, and you would laugh
We’d sit back to back on warm sand,
writing each other’s thoughts in journals
Each night, we’d spend some time side by side,
composing the long, lovely novel of our life,
We’d collaborate, you and I, telling different sides,
of two writers’ lives, a man and woman joined,
uniquely together and uniquely apart,
and never would it end, this tale of joy
For in my dream we never die, or grow out of love,
the daily cup of little grievances never overfills,
We’d work through our quests together,
make love each night when we were through,
for at the end of each day’s work we’d know,
the point of it all was to do it for each other,
And let the world look on in wonder

The Air I Breathe
The air I breathed this morning,
wafted through your room last night,
crept in on cat’s paws softly,
caressed your rising breast,
took something from your heart,
left faint glowworms in its wake,
sought out my desolation and,
washed me gently in your grace

The Vizier’s Daughter
She told such stories nightly
but left him wanting more
He let her live each dawn as
in ecstasy he swore… to stay
She suffered every morning
to find fresh tales to spin
Her life was forfeit every night
a thousand dawns she’d win
And what great prize was won
when Shayrazad had played
She wed and bedded evil
and rued her every day

You called to me within your dreams
I came to you from other times,
jumped lightly down from far off hills
to moving paths of spectral light, swam
brave ‘gainst currents swift and yet,
can’t make this final leap to Now
I speak to you each night in sleep
You wouldn’t know my voice, but
hearing yours like one’s own heart
beat cadence in two rhythms
Can’t you yet feel the throb,
 mountains deep within the Earth
All you need do is touch my past
Blend mine with yours in kindness
One swift kiss becomes a torrent,
and suddenly I’m real as dawn,
no longer trapped in shadowlands,
and so like this you’re freed from Yours

My soul flies with you above the clouds,
longing to see through your eyes
the beauty reflected in your smile
You are fire, you are earth,
the sweet air
 that calms
Waters swirling nervously
in my new-found bay of redemption
I am wanderlust and mist, unlooked-for,
huntsman on the never-ending quest,
the Cypher, plain to read for fey eyes and wild
I know why the lone wolf howls clear in 
panther screams at the darkness,
waiting listless for her prey, and her doom
To find a heart held in a touch, unbidden,
thoughts matched and challenged, swiftly
my spirit soars inescapably in your wake

Come peer inside my muddled mind,
you’ll be appalled-enthralled I’m sure
Such words, they hover, flit, and swim
through wetly air, through bubbly seas
And when I dance or dare to dream,
some fall in boxes meant for sleep
The ones that land before my eyes,
they make some sensibility
But those that bounce about my feet,
I stir with witchy broom worn thin
They swirl and sing and spin the rhyme
and rhythm writ by fireflies fey
When caught perchance inside my ear,
the music leaves me castaway

The Last Cookie
When first you baked for me,
I devoured them like a greedy child,
as if it were my birthday,
yet I was lonely at the party
Now just one last sweet morsel remains,
all I can ponder is sharing with you,
taking your hand when you reach for it,
never letting go the touch of angel’s fire
Then I see you aren’t really here to hold,
chance gone, ship sailed, die cast,
another weak metaphor lost in transit,
fickle words betray me once more
Why then does such feeling persist,
even grow, make a deeper vessel to fill,
build bridges, scale mountains,
cross great seas of doubt and regret
Can it simply be to see the other side,
what would have been, our voices joined,
had different scripts been chosen,
brighter worlds explored together
There is no choice, no magic balm,
I must eat the last cookie alone,
tread brazenly my fated path,
watch you walk yours so fiercely,
And roar exultant from the hill

~AJ Mayfield

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