PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

                                                                                      



how the moon calls to me on darkened nights



and bids my muse to create a new language for your own lips so wet



that they want and ache for my tender woman's touch



well if so rather enchantably then I can give you that bespeak no promises of love



and ye shall own this moment without further preamble



taketh from me my sweetest breath



the love of life into my soul's own lungs



the angels whisper in wonder at what we have found



two trembling bodies of water destined to meet



at a shore not so silent any longer



oh but I truly am a petal floating on rough winds in stark comparison to you



a mere lost lone bloom with no lovely glass vase to even sit in alone



awaiting the stalking of such tender death so soon



so do not crush the very essence of this brilliant satin loveliness



let it soar and be free in the shimmering pool by your garden's finest gate



for winged then too you shall become to stumble no more



but to follow in its amazing Odyssy's wake



granted at last a better man!



from a flower!



(July 2,2000 1130pm)