Beautiful, Red

Thank you, Torgo. It was some of the things that was on my mind, when I was at the park, sitting on the grass, supposedly reading a book whose page I haven't had the chance to turn for a whole hour or so.

In our old shipwrecked days there was an hour,
When in the firelight steadily aglow,
Joined slackly, we beheld the red chasm grow
Among the clicking coals. Our library-bower
That eve was lef to us: and hushed we sat
As lovers to whom Time is whispering,
From sudden-opened doors we heard them sing:
The nodding elders mixed good wine with chat.
Well knew we the Life's greatest treasure lay
With us, and of it was our talk. "Ah, yes!
Love dies!" I said: I never thought it less.
She yearned to me that sentence to unsay.
Then when the fire domed blackening, I found
Her cheek was against my kiss, and swift
Up the sharp scale of sobs her breast did lift:-
Now I am haunted by that taste!that sound!
- Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Thanks for sharing, Troy.

this thread made for some very good reading at this late hour, i think i found one i hadn't read previously...

Thank you for coming back to visit, kc.

There is a calmness in your soul, enlightment in your heart
and hope in your smile,,,,

How awesome is this

Farewell

I have poured affection
into a parched bucket,
I have struggled for words
when, overflowing,
the bucket cried to say more,
I have bent my truth
for someone else’s,
when no other lie made sense,
I have been silent, all of desire
subverted to another need for honesty,
even as my fears trickled like tears.

I have been lost before, as I am now,
to healing, to what else to say,
what more to do; but, also,
never have I ever cared as now,
never have I struggled
- to hold on, to let go -
for these nebulous instants,
ever more precious,
as they dwindle with you
into the distance.

Take consolation, if you must,
in the insulation offered by those miles;
underline that certainty,
stand by that honesty,
having never been sullied,
not ever having touched...
consider that truth is all
that does not occur,
that the aftertaste of dreams
is just the way your mouth feels
every morning,
after having spoken
and truly,
the possibility of you, of me,
is one that now safely belongs
in a parallel universe,
and damn regrets, and perhaps
time, that it was so.

Perhaps there’s a world,
a universe, outside of dreaming,
where a truth, once acknowledged,
opens up two people,
all their needs,
all their thoughts, to each other,
and despite all that’s ever been,
said and done inadequately,
still there won’t ever rise
any other need for someone else.
I’m sure, if there is,
rainbows must mean differently,
sunrises evoke other than hope,
sunsets might mean other than leavings
and healing tears,
and the magic of you would not be,
and my words would merely be stark,
raving bare.

Soar ms lace ..... Soar

I am left with a sense of ponder... and worry
Your soul lays so openly ..... bask in the beauty of you


Namaste'
Mom

Sigh. LAMom, I think poetry is just another form of nakedness, a baring of the soul. What is often not said in any other form, can be clearly perceived in the written verse. To be quite honest, I know no other way of sharing.

Thank you again for stopping by this stranger's proverbial stone, where I always thought my soliloquies fall on deaf ears. I admire you because you know how to appreciate content, rather than connections.

Namaste.

((((((((((((R))))))))))

Thank you for baring your soul.

Wow I must say that Im very impressed by you the eliquent way you use words to bring forth your emotional depth and spirit. I find it relaxing when someone speaks thier mind in such a beautiful and poetic way. Thank you for your words

((((((((((T)))))))))))

And no, that doesn't equate to nude pictures.

rwlson, welcome to Mingle and thank you for your generous words. I appreciate it, sincerely. Do stop by again.

When you decide the spaces
between points and poems,
between emphasis and the need for air,
do you consider the eddies, the ripples of action
and reaction,
similar, or opposed to your own,
in the hearts of others?

Have you not ever wondered,
when there is so much difference,
how you could see so much,
how much of you could be equally perceived,
in some inconceivable fashion;
how another’s longings seem to echo
your own wordless screamings,
the very same
heart-rending, soul-fraying way?

I have always wondered how we can see
each other’s poetry, seeing as how
we often go blind to our own rhythms,
often refuse to see the way we race
to the different drum has left
those who love us
behind,
and only uncaring critics, indifferent cities,
strangers
you greatly seem to care about more,
holding you back from some insanity
only you, and them, can see differently
and yet agree on, oh most ardently.

When you decide punctuation
between bottled messages, do you consider
the tides, the sussuration between waves,
the particular gravity of air above,
the elemental forces
with which you, and your messages
must overcome, on their way
to beaching?

When you cry, are you giving up?

Its within whats not seen or heard that i feel
the comfort of your soul...

I cry, Exhale
and the
strength regains my limbs
leaving me cleansed
fully aware of all that is silent
placing my hand upon your shoulders
release the weight
and
listen... Yes
Humbled is my soul, for it has crossed paths with you, my dear friend


Namaste'

LAMom, thank you again for always taking the time to stop by to share your thoughts. You're the only one. Hahaha! But your kind soul is enough for this grateful person.

((((LAMom))))

Namaste.

gee, thanks! (chopped lived once again)

A void is placed upon my heart
your touch is missed
may the sun shine upon your soul
releasing whats needed to be told
hold not your voice, sweet child
release what is needed
home shall keep you warm.

Namaste

Wow, I am truly speechless, LAMom. You inspire and humble me at the same time. Thank you for taking the time to look for this and resurrect it after all this time. For that, I will soon post for you.

KC, haha. My apologies, but liver is good.

It was just yesterday,
fresh as waking, you were
dripping on my mind, leaning
on a sliver of sunlight slicing
my every thought into two;
My senses, denuded, divided
between keeping a book waiting,
and waiting some more.
You have this way
of ending our dialogues,
or suspending it,
like you often have,
with a flashing of teeth,
a splatter of rainbows,
and a throaty laugh
into my last breathless note.

If I inhaled again, and I
must have,
I knew, in some sick way,
I would have a chance
at ending a conversation,
on my own terms.
But, unmanned, then and now;
having you, and then losing
you, and waiting
too very damn long,
or insisting on control
a tad too strong,
or jumping in too fast – I never
could tell.
If I forego breathing now,
and close my eyes from seeing
rainbows again,
for a minute, or two,
I might yet realize
a greater pain.

But I’m human enough
for air, for another hope
at another exchange, down the road,
where the perhaps always lurks,
when winning and losing
don’t mean as much
as watching you
light life into me again,
simply by being.