Won't You Spare His Soul?

Somewhere in the shadows on a cold and rocky mountainside,
Beneath the full moon's glare and heaven's gentle tears,
The cries of two wolves rain down through the night,
And up to the dead - dancing high in icy atmospheres.

Dark eyes shining brightly, lifted to that lustrous goddess,
Fiery hearts pulsate in accord, beating as if one;
Two fervent souls entwined - both in life and death,
Sojourners through the garden, love without illusion.

Racing down a long black ribbon, on a dark steel steed,
One boy tearing through the night - he hears the great greys' howl;
Moonbeams pierce that screaming soul, the goddess knows his need,
Windblown tears and bleeding heart, the motor shrieks it's growl.

Bloodstained hands roll on the throttle, his birthright is long lost,
Sins of the father, sins of the son - it's really all the same.
One heart crying in the moonlit night, illusion without love,
Trying to forget those soulful eyes, his heart awash in flame.

No angel high in heaven can stay the fickle course of fate.
The goddess softly weeps as a bright-white moon turns red.
Won't you carry him to the woods, up cold mountainsides?
Can't you save his weary soul and cause his wings to spread?

Lost in blackness, lost in the night, pursuing unseen angels flight.
Caught in the spider's web, torn apart by tangled briars of life.
One heart beats alone without a princess, never to return.
Sweet goddess, won't you spare his soul with one cut of your knife?

One heart crying in the moonlit night, illusion without love,
Trying to forget those soulful eyes, his heart awash in pain.

Somewhere in the shadows on a cold and rocky mountainside,
Beneath the full moon's glare and heaven's gentle tears,
The cries of two wolves rain down through the night,
And up to the dead - dancing high in icy atmospheres.

Dark eyes shining brightly, lifted to that lustrous goddess,
Fiery hearts pulsate in accord, beating as if one;
Two fervent souls entwined - both in life and death,
Sojourners through the garden, love without illusion.

This Life

This life could be different, I know that it could;
The chains here that bind me seem heavy and strong,
But keys open locks, and saws cut forged steel,
So I'll keep my eyes open and see freedom erelong.

What is one's own life but a heart anyway?
And existence as fragile as thin papier-mache...

This heart could be happy, I know that it could;
The pain that keeps coming does weigh it down so,
But some other hearts lift it and help it to grow,
Sweet souls I have found - and the love they bestow.

What is one's own heart but a soul anyway?
And existence as fragile as thin papier-mache...

This soul could be soaring, I know that it could;
It's not tied to this earth like the trees of the wood,
It flew once before all the way to high heaven,
If it was it can be, in all likelihood.

What is one's own soul but God's hand anyway?
And existence as fragile as thin papier-mache...

God's hand shouldn't cry, I know that it shouldn't;
But tears here deluge me, and the rain never ends,
For growth water is needed, but light needed more,
Sunlight, and moonlight - for ascension impends.

What are souls but wishes living in dreams?
This life the illusion, this life the elaborate lie -
We can all be bright angels, sharing our love,
We can all reach the heavens, learning to fly.

Morning approaches, the moon's glow fades fast,
As the sand in our hourglasses trickles away.
Reach deep in your heart, grab fast to your dream -
Find your true path before the harsh light of day.

It's here for the taking, and for flying away...

Please I beg you to pour one for me! I could use it just now. I was really reluctant to share this poem. It is intensely personal for me. To awkwardly paraphrase Hemingway, "Writing is easy, you just sit at the typewriter and bleed." This one came from the deepest trenches of my soul and seemed to take every drop of blood I could muster. Off to the liquor cabinet!

It's 11:50 AM here, so give me 10 more minutes:

I may just really be a terrible person, but I'm hoping someone can give me some pointers on what a profile should be. Mine has attracted one scammer from Ghana and one spammer from Australia. Any and all constructive criticism is welcome. Thank you very much for any help!
Wes in South Carolina

Me now:

Me after your Brilliant Insight:

Lover of the Words

She was a lover of the words, or so she said through sweet lips
Which caressed my soul like warm, flowing honey in June heat;
And being of like mind my heart was soon lost to me.

There for a time our spirits danced in verbiage and dreams,
We opened like God's flowers to the rain and to the sun -
The music of our words filled us with hope and love.

Higher things than this crass life engenders - better things.
We were closer to that state in which we are born and it was grand;
More angel than dust, more moonlight than shadow.

The words were me - no more or less, I was the song I sang,
But time was cruel and her heart crueler, the music was untrue.
Her words were but a tune to be played for a time and ended.

There was an emptiness in her; she sought diversion from life,
A game, a distraction - a dalliance with the lover of the words.
The words were not her; like wind there was no substance there.

She was artful, she was skilled; her locution rose and fell and darted
All in time with the movement of the spirit and I gave myself to it.
I was enthralled by the eloquence of her song, her cunning symphony.

And in her time she ended the recital - she went on to other pieces,
She went on to other patrons, and left me there alone without a sound.
She took the words and left a void greater than the one she found.

The soul is built on words, the spirit sails on ideals high -
Nothing else is more than empty dream to deceive poor fools like us.
The cruelest lie is the truth of the moment; sing your songs forever...

Or do not sing. Stay in the safety of your emptiness. Live your lie alone.

Thank you my friend. I've written a lot of poetry I guess, but somehow this one was always special and I've always been very reluctant to show it to anyone.

Isn't it theoretically possible we will one day be able to precisely manipulate these photons; thus enabling two-way communication across the universe at near instantaneous speed? You have one photon in your office, I carry the other photon in my 90% light speed ship with anti-matter drive. Then we can converse in near virtual real time about how cool the next star systems is . . .

(Otherwise it's gonna suck, the ship is halfway built out in the garage . . .)

Ephemeral Lament

You could see it in his eyes,
In fleeting glances about,
It knifed it's way into the room,
And then retreated back.
Waiting for the moment,
It's hand to fully play,
Waiting till you least expect,
The soul to fly away.
It hung thickly in the air,
Smoke in the smokeless room.
The smell of it was there,
The eagerness of doom.
All about the people spoke
With words that had no meaning.
Pushing themselves apart,
From the spirit there careening.
Sometimes in furtive moments,
A mouth would bend close to ear,
And you pray the things there whispered,
Would carry weight, relief of fear.
Women darted through the room,
Offering food to those not hungry.
We took the sacrament eagerly,
And swallowed down our guilt.
The will to life is fading fast,
As our small sacrifices are offered.
From the North an icy blast,
As the Reaper's hand is proffered.

To you that leaves on this dark day,
Know that love never dies.
As on a ship you sail beyond
To distant shores unseen;
You live in me, and I in you
As you leave for worlds pristine.


_______________________________________

For uncle Don, wherever you may be. You're sorely missed my dear brother…

Both the words and the metaphor are very beautiful. I think tazzops is right on in his assessment:




~ Wes

This isn't my usual sort of poetry, but finding myself in a somber mood today I decided to share something more intellectual and worldly with my new friends here at Mingle. (My typical poems are about life and love.) My Poor Dead Opossum has met with critical acclaim. (There was this guy – the critic – who told me, "I really like this poem! I don't know why I like it, but I do.") So now without further ado, here's something completely different:


My Poor Dead Opossum, the 2nd Generation

Poor dead opossum, laying in the road,
You would have been a big one, if you'd only growed.
Eyeballs oozing, entrails flowing,
Enough to get your stomach going.

Last year I saw your mama here,
With only buzzards 'round to jeer.
Kicking, crying, lonely dying,
Sadly sobbing, brains a frying.

Year after year our furry friends,
On asphalt tombs meet bloody ends.
I feel for you there in the road,
Never more to shoot your load.

Careless souls rushing through the night,
Not only you caught in this plight.
Men as well, snared in the light,
Lose their minds, give up the fight.

Once thought great by might of reason,
Now well lost, that passing season.
Like flies mankind overran the earth,
Outran his mind in drunken mirth.

Man's lost his values, lost his God,
Lost his reason, the silly clod.
Helter-skelter through the man-made night,
We scratch and we bleed, we scream and fight.

My poor dead opossum, bleeding in the sun,
Trespassed in our madness, in your last ditch run.
Possums stay in your leaves of splendor,
Mankind is all **** in the blender.

Hi everyone! Could someone help a brother out? I have a Golden Retriever named Bear who is the love of my life, and was wondering how folks are putting up pics of their pets? Grateful for any help, and thank you!

Thank you so much for the flowers, PKH!
~ Wes

I am not at all sure there are any real SC women here! I tried clicking on some who had responded to this post - 3 times in a row a message stated the accounts were "deactivated"! Any ladies from the York County area??

Simple Needs

I have no need of servants, my needs are simple and few,
The trappings of society, for the most part, I eschew.
So when you look into my eyes, and see the longing there,
Understand the need you sense is not one that ensnares.

I don't need a woman to cook for me or clean,
I don't need a nursemaid, or someone to demean.
I don't need a waitress, or a prop upon my arm,
I don't need a socialite, full of wit and charm.

I've seen your eyes, and felt your heart; I've heard your spirit roar,
There's magic in your soul that I've seen here before.
You've sisters in the forests, and sisters in the air,
I know because I've ran with them, I smell them in your hair.

When you look into your lover's eyes, do they burn for you?
Do they see beyond your flesh and hunger for that too?
When they taste your sweating body, do they go insane?
Do they give themselves completely - can you ascertain?

In you the fire that burns forever is as bright as it can be;
You stole my heart, you are my soul, you move alluringly.
I need to feel you feel my love; I must placate this thirst,
Just as the night turns into day, in you I'll be immersed.

When you look into your lover's eyes, do they rage for you?
Does their love burn like red-hot steel - or a slightly lesser hue?
Can they feel your mighty spirit flying through the air;
Do they see the blissful goddess - or do they even care?

Can you remember when we ran through fields, and woods and streams;
How I pledged my life and love to you, under the lustrous moonbeams?
You are me and I am you, forever we're entwined;
God touched you, and you touched me; and earth and stars combined...

I'm new here and as trite as it may sound, I'm looking for a soulmate. I don't know that you're here; I don't know that I'll ever find you. I do know that true love is a precious gift and that all else pales in comparison, so I'll continue the search. I'm asking if anything here intrigues you, if you long in the night for someone who will love you deeply and without reservation, take a few moments to look at my profile and write me. Thank you.

(Most of my friends are deceased, and they were like family to me. So if you're not interested in me romantically but think you might like a friendship with an individual who retains some modicum of intelligence and fierce loyalty I'll be more than happy to talk with you…)


Simple Needs

I have no need of servants, my needs are simple and few,
The trappings of society, for the most part, I eschew.
So when you look into my eyes, and see the longing there,
Understand the need you sense is not one that ensnares.

I don't need a woman to cook for me or clean,
I don't need a nursemaid, or someone to demean.
I don't need a waitress, or a prop upon my arm,
I don't need a socialite, full of wit and charm.

I've seen your eyes, and felt your heart; I've heard your spirit roar,
There's magic in your soul that I've seen here before.
You've sisters in the forests, and sisters in the air,
I know because I've ran with them, I smell them in your hair.

When you look into your lover's eyes, do they burn for you?
Do they see beyond your flesh and hunger for that too?
When they taste your sweating body, do they go insane?
Do they give themselves completely - can you ascertain?

In you the fire that burns forever is as bright as it can be;
You stole my heart, you are my soul, you move alluringly.
I need to feel you feel my love; I must placate this thirst,
Just as the night turns into day, in you I'll be immersed.

When you look into your lover's eyes, do they rage for you?
Does their love burn like red-hot steel - or a slightly lesser hue?
Can they feel your mighty spirit flying through the air;
Do they see the blissful goddess - or do they even care?

Can you remember when we ran through fields, and woods and streams;
How I pledged my life and love to you, under the lustrous moonbeams?
You are me and I am you, forever we're entwined;
God touched you, and you touched me; and earth and stars combined...

Angels Crying

The tears of Angels are falling down,
Seeping deep into barren ground.
My Liege, my Lord - the thirst remains,
Though this soul is washed in rains.

Lost heart cracked in deepest places,
Parched soul touched with softest traces.
Seraphs, tell me, if you will -
Is Love a lie? Are dreams still real?

Precious pain, you hold me tight,
My loss brutal in the long black nights.
I find myself alone outside,
Washed in the tears of Angels.

Essence of God, essence of love,
Gentlest hands from up above.
One drop does reach into my core,
A kiss from heaven, then a sweet downpour...

A seed survived, sweet miracle;
Soaked in tears forevermore...

The next time I'm grumpy I'm going to look for you! (Just give me 20 or 30 minutes - I usually get that way 2 or 3 times an hour.) Still, the world would be so much nicer if everyone took your approach . . .

So very sad . . .