PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

can one really capture a dream

and are dreams truly all that they seem

I know my body quakes and convulses

desperately in a frustrated scream

when you look into my soul with eyes that

wickedly glitter and gleam

you give my poetic mind that wonderful

hypnotic quirk

in dire word rhyme my meticulous mind knows

this great responsibility it can not shirk

am I truly your love of loves or is that just

another woebegone fantasy

or is it the great higher noble sought out

master hyperbole

don't deny me this chance to prove that even

in this stage of life/theatre/life

I can verbally dance and put the one who

dazzles me without any ill intended wishes

in a torid and turbulent trance

when we grow gray and old will these tender

soft memories become hardened and deathly cold

will we still let our hair down and talk of the

many pleasures we, at one time together found

to all the world you and I are eternally bound

I am growing tired so please read on quietly

without a sound

there was a time my love when you were quick  

so austere and quite coquettish

not that you are so now

more like the father of Methuselah

who has in his old age

become quite pig headish

still, I love my dotty yet dear old fart

if we had the chance to run off again as young

as we were then

with the, my secret heart of hearts

I'd gladly make a new start........

(written Jan12,1991)