Poem – “Lovesick” – Romanticism – 11/27/2020

A fever warms you,
Yet my arms cannot touch you.
The outline of your form
In the debris that nestles you
Has me cry with the falling
Of snow, in the haze.

I cannot even
Graze a cheek.
I cannot even
Touch a lip,
While yours grow old
In the welcoming dark.
I cannot even
Hold a hand
That trembles.

Fear blossoms
Bleak petals,
Between these floorboards.
I speak
From across this room,
Asking for leaves
To not drop from your eyes.
I tell you words
You already know.

How much sickness
Embraces you,
Outside my reach.

How much warmth
Reddens your cheeks
I cannot teach.

To kiss,
Would mean to die,
Together,
Under the sighing trees.

Poem – “Little Life in Autumn Leaves” – Romanticism – 11/27/2020

She starts to remember
How the ocean began,
Of naked tears, to outdrawn fears,
Little more than a scratch upon the sky
To cause this downpour,
Forming the largest puddle.

She starts to remember
Her heart, bleeding wide open,
As a doorway, without barrier,
Without restriction.

How much she loves in the morning,
With eyes full of dew!

How much she lives in the evening,
Broken, yet brand new.

I, too, can see the past
Remembering how we did last,
Of hearts swollen in the night,
Of teardrops creating shadows,
Losing light.

Her hair, full of embers,
Flame resides in the strands,
Individual and woeful,
Yet, I bring her aboard
A vessel, for the teeming ocean.

A life, lasted in pain,
To then a wife,

Graceful and tame.

Poem – “From Somewhere Deep” – Romanticism – 11/27/2020

How great to lift
Tragedy to majesty,
Concealed by the curtains
On greatest defeat.
Your life has smoldered in winter,
Drowned of ashes,
Then to ashes, you return.
Black decay has been your flavor
To comprehension.

I hold your hand in my burning own,
Gaping this palm
With the brightest, embedded nail.

I die for the horrors you keep,
As my mind has stung,
While my heart still beats.

I still live,
Though breathless, I act
As this fall of anchor in puddles,
In your tears.

I slow our caress to a strong grasp,
Blending blessing with burden.
You kiss the wind,

As I smelt words into a poem.

My love,
Blindly, as you recall
Your days, outnumbered by pain,
By washing, crimson waves,

Can you hold onto the hands of the clock,
Instead of my feverish own?

Poem – “Closing you, in Weak Arms” – Romanticism – 11/26/2020

Possessed
By a certain loneliness,
As was the creed of you,
The rule
To which you were bound,
Like the book with hardest cover,
Not to the truth of its pages.
Yet, I love what drops
From the wreath above your head,

As leaves to the Autumn awakening.
Here, your lips stream the path
For your feet, to my weakened arms.

Go across,
Speak this name of mine,
As it brands itself to your flesh.
Your tears come as diamonds,
As your fingers are like candles,
Wicked with flame.

What love,
You have lost.
Joys do not know you,
As trust has always left you
To dine on the dust
Beneath your feet.

My plan
To have you wrapped
In truest intention,
Places my heart upon the altar,
That you might hear it beat,
That you might live
Beneath the sheets
Where I possess you.

Poem – “God is Old” – Romanticism – 11/26/2020

Belonging is the house
Of unrequited belief,
Where flies are swatted
From lips, so pallid,
Beneath the storm, weaved by
Their leper hands.
I saw how they pierced the air
With their fingers,
Just as the curtain before
The blinded bride.

I saw the space between them,
As they drunk in the firelight
Of enemies so old in the night.
Belonging in the house,
To worship something of dust
Lingering on the books of tragedy,

Among unremittent success.

I saw their gatherings,
Fewest, with frailest voices.
A blind man was with perception,
Yet muted to the deaf.

Romantic pairings
Drew kisses from the orchards
Where apples fell.

Poem – “This Rope about your Feet” – Romanticism – 11/25/2020

This life
Holds you against
The fever,
This scorn
Where dust mires you beneath
Shadows above shelter,
Kisses from God.

I wish to love
Without watching you,
Staring across
Guiding tragedies,
Tremoring streets,

Leaving dust to settle
Upon those frozen lips.

Calling lions
To erase the guilt
I have to faith,
Of Heavens stooped in fervor,
Where passion displaces
Sound from travelling sound,
Love from senseless love.

Pointless hearts
Are the case of lovers,
Whose feet slip
More than their hands.

Poem – “Loving Waters” – Erotica – 11/25/2020

Exquisite,
Sublime passageways.
Aching legs
Know which direction
To spread,

Of a horizon’s edge,
To pleasure’s pledge.

Her face,
Sculpted of porcelain,
With ebony wire
Hanging loose,
Draping.
With rivers of black
Cleaning cheeks,

From raven eyes.
I lean.

I lean
For the burial
Of a man’s twisted ardor.
Loving
With an anchor
Upon my back.

There is bliss, here,
Sentenced with the kiss
Straight to disposition.

Hold her head back,
Drain nectar
From her lips.

Leave stains
On her leaking void,
That the dark might birth.

Poem – “A Heart in a Bottle” – Romanticism – 11/25/2020

I yearn
While the moons cross
Hazes upon the misty fields,
To you,
Listening to your heart
With its extended reverberations
To my unforgotten vows.

I hear you
Across the blue
Waves, we’ve come across,
Has been our barricade to an eternity,
In arms.
Is it an empty space
Or our time to speak?

Of loss and requiem,
Come to
Bandage the tears that roam
From East to West,
From pain to loving rest.
Hear to
The hearts that clash together.

Like waves made of our tears,
With movement forged
Of our sighted tension.
Your beauty
Is a begotten paradise,
Made of strolling tresses,
Among eyes that cease me.

Tasting temptation
From scents the ocean leaves,
Blotting our horizons,
As we see ourselves,
In back-to-back reflections.

Poem – “How can we Love?” – Romanticism – 11/25/2020

How can we hold this shelter
High above our heads,
As tears float upon puddles,
While our hearts quake
With the Earth?

Are we to love,
As angels, destined to ignite
Into ashes, into stardust?
How can we
When the pain remains
With our trembling fingers?

You want to say we have lived,
Yet the ruins around us,
Prove otherwise.
Another solitary kiss
Beneath a hazy moon,
Cannot cease the race.

Our hearts against the wind,
Stinging our eyes,
Burning our arms
Where once used to hold us,
When once did shield us.

My love hurts,
Our love hurts,
Sorrows our hearts,
Captures our tears
In the dying embers
Of life in our remembrance
Of fewest photographs.

Poem – “How Quickly we Died” – Romanticism – 11/24/2020

Two shadows,
Facing forward
Now leave a black stain
In the white sand
Upon this crippled shore.

No movement,
No leaves descend
From the cloudless Heavens.
God has lifted an angel,
Has descended a beast.

Our deaths
Have blotted the grains,
As tears come forth
To birth an ocean,
Solid of ebony.

Her face,
Once held in my hands,
Has now been encrusted
With gems of greatest sheen
Of eyes, loving and keen,

Sunken in the shore’s depravity
As death’s shaded gravity.

Poem – “You Love, with Setting Eyes” – Romanticism – 11/24/2020

The dark
In your field of vision
Soars us.
We are as
Stars to this hateful galaxy,
Leaving wishes upon the roaming night
Where space collides with space.

You love
With each song released
From your ink-dipped tongue,
While the black in your stare
Allows us to wander,
Allows us to be aware

To the melting snow

Creating puddles
For our sorry expressions.

I can see the sadness we drop
From noses and eyes.
I can feel our hands closing a chapter,
Loving each word to collapse,
In the dark upon the white,
In the universe upon the starry night,
Wrapping our heads, by a crown.

A crown, with jewels of stars,
As our eyes see the ever-watching
Darkness of forever.

Poem – “Oh, Child in Emptiness” – Romanticism – 11/24/2020

Pule,
He does,
Beside his mother, forever.
Just a cold bed
With his tears turned to ice,
Causing lakes
To roam
For the village’s consumption,
Melting with his dying life,
Fevered by melancholy.

Can she
Hold the winds, together,
With another pair of arms?
She holds him,
A kiss to warm his head,
A face divine as the dust
Atop her shoulders.

Will he
Cry loud enough,
That the world might hear?
A face,
A dying curtain
Leaving majesties behind
With their books as torn carcasses,
Just the dust to fill a void.

They bleed words through their bibles,
Seeding oceans of ebony.

She breaks the bread,
He had sought
From arms, cold to touch,
To speak the crumbs to his mouth
As soft whispers.