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More "OLD" "NEW" poems
++
Author: Patton, Teddy Rex ( WONDERHORSE )
WATCHING
......You, Watching Me:
I feel your soft eyes
softly caressing me.
'Though 500-miles away
yet not so very far
that I cannot still see
the fairest dawn's-glint
in your nature's-green eyes.
I taste sweetest tears
when I dream-deliver
all my softest kisses
to your gentle lashes.
Oh!, true, you've sensed
inside my loving eyes
love as true as any love
any one has ever dreamed.
We are not complex at all--
--no more-so than true love is.
Oh!, DO watch me, see me
responding to your touches!
++
It WASN'T a Starry night,
although the moon was full.
Three days before, I went
out to the fallow field,
put the revolver to my chest
and shot it once into my breast.
I missed my heart (how apt!);
I was never good with fine strokes.
Yes, a bullet sent right into my heart
would have worked, but I missed.
I sent you my self, so you would listen;
the part of me which heard your voice.
That didn't work as I had hoped it would.
I should have sent poetry, I knew I should.
And now I've failed as my own executioner
just as I failed as artist, and as lover.
I even failed with YOU, Mlle. Putain,
you who love for lucre, not Mon sucre.
Oh, yes, your rejection of me, Mon Putain:
that rejection was like bullets, over and over,
of me as your friend, as an artist, as your lover,
just as I felt impaled on the critics' barbs.
And so, now, I lie here, again impaled.
But now on this short, cold, leaden bullet.
It has drilled deep into my breast,
like just one more hateful comment.
But I MISSED my heart! My OWN heart!
Just as I missed YOUR heart, sweet-heart.
My chosen-to-be-beloved, Mon Coeur Doux!
( My "Flowers", how do they seem to you now?
My "Clouds", do you see them? And my "Dream"?
"Les etoilles", "les reves", "les nuages",
do you share them now? Oh!, I longed to know!!)
This hole near my heart is unrepairable,
and this final depression is unbearable,
but Oh!, this final mania is SO high!!
It is not a starry night, and it is not cold.
Few of our nights were warm or starry, I recall.
I am warm, and I have taken three days to die,
yet you have not come by, which makes me feel old.
I will go, and my heart will stay here, lay here.
I wish this were a starry night: I love those.
Bonsoir
++
Uncle Sam
Our Uncle took a notion
to ship us across the acean
to a place called VEET NAMM.
We just all said "Hot Damn!",
and went
Our souls went into hiding,
we weren't "World-law"-abiding.
We were only following orders
when we crossed a lot of borders
where sent.
The "natives" there were friendly,
'cept the ones we called "the enemy".
We killed and killed the Viet Cong,
but we could find 'em very long:
they WENT!
So we were left there, wondering
where Uncle got funds for army-ing.
We gave the body-count there,
but the money...no-one knew where
it went!
They told us "Just Keep Killing",
and lots of us were willing.
But some guys were not wired that way,
and to the brass they would just say:
"Get Bent!"
There's none of this that's braggin'.
I didn't like it, but did no fraggin'.
I have been to Veet Namm;
I don't wanna come back again,
or be sent.
'Cuz I did my duty proper,
got back to my wife and daughter,
thankin' God they're what I've got.
But, that war, there's no way I can tell 'em what
it meant.
8 / 1968
++
Toward The Lighthouse.
This oar of spirit
delves, cleaves, divides Life's ocean,
and passes through it.
Between what's "Before" and "Passed"
my small barque leaves but small wake.
But this Ocean knows
it is I who have passed by.
My passing ripple
my sole Immortality:
Oh!, remember my ripple!
Quote! and copy me!
Then I shall live forever!**
My oar has but touched
Immortality; but Life,
as ocean, is Eternal.
I row, on further,
my stake in Water planted;
the farther I pass
the deep, deeper I'm sinking.
This Ocean knows I'll come home.
I've a frugal eye
which sees only the Best's best.
Thus I choose my friends;
wondrous words and loving smiles,
my heart's sole necessity!
My pride isn't mine.
nor is my Inspiration;
I'm what YOU think me:
you are beyond defining,
and thus, Mon Coeur, I am too!
** {{ from a letter of Ms. Dickinson,
to Mr. Higginson, August, 1870 }}
This entire thought prompted by the first four
of Emily's poemS, as first published in 1890.
++
. LIKE A BABY
Someday you will meet him
(if you haven't, already).
"Mr. Right" will appear!
You'll be in a FANTASTIC courtship
for years and years,
and it should never end!
You will get engaged, and married
and all of that stuff.
Then, one lovely, VERY lovely day
you will smile at him and say:
"Sugar, I think we're pregnant!"
Oh!, he will be ecstatic!
But not as much as you!
The months will draw down to weeks,
the weeks will become mere days,
and the days shorten to hours and minutes!
And then will come "The Moment"!!
You A L L will be so happy!
Your new baby will be as lovely as you are.
Then, one day in the nursery
as you are gently rocking him,
you will look into his eyes and see.....
....NOTHING but an infinite love.
No demanding. No threatening.
No shadows. No questing.
Neither he nor you will even blink.
For a long, long, long long time
only your loving will happen.
What is transpiring between you then
is totally in-explainable, not understandable,
it is ineffable, but has the name
that mortals have called it forever:
it is love.
And then, all-of-a-sudden,
with a startle of remembrance
in your still incredibly soft and lovely heart,
and in your precious mind,
you will flash back, with a smile
that is deep, deep, deep,
oh!, so deep,
as you remember, and smile even more deeply,
and feel again, what you remember as
the soft, the true, the honest, the safe
the unthreatening love of this man
who loved you this way, once,
and whose heart still does.
Like a baby.
++
TONGUE IN CHEEK. IT IS NOT REALLY .MEAT.
.
.
.
.
or: "Why I Don't Go To A Lot Of Their Picnics!!
1.
"Hey! Are you going to the bar-be-que?"
Well, I didn't know there was one; who's having it?
"It's being done by the cattle."
Great! What are they serving?
"Hamburgers and steaks."
O.K.! Let's go!!
2.
"Hey! Are you going to the cook-out?"
Well, I didn't know there was one; who's having it?
"It's being done by the pigs."
Great! What are they serving?
"Pork-chops and ham and lil'-smokies."
O.K.! Let's go!
3.
"Hey! Are you going to the bar-be-que?"
Well, I didn't know there was one; who's doing it?
"It's being set up by the chickens."
Great! What is being served?
"Boneless breasts, drumsticks and buffalo-wings!"
O.K.! Let's go!
4.
"Hey! Are you gonna go to the cook-out?"
Well, I didn't know there was one; who's having it?
"It's the salmon having it."
Great! What are they gonna serve?
"Salmon-steaks, and some salmon-patties."
o.k.! Let's go!
5.
"Hey! Are you going to the cookout that's being held by
Planned Parenthood?"
Uhhhh, probably not.
6.
Question: just what DOES PLANNED PARENTHOOD do
with all those "products of insemination"?
And what do they do with their "Blood Money"?
++
Today We Saw You For The Last Time
Elegy For An Only Son
You look so peaceful.
Un-bloomed flower of man-hood.
A gentle flowing spring of sweetness
entered our lives when you were born
just nineteen brief years ago.
It has never stopped,
but has reduced to single drops,
now that you have gone.
Tears condensed from grief's tears,
then they dry into crystals
refracting the years.
Oh!, how our hearts held
so briefly you, our treasure:
these falling diamonds are love.
Fragmented, ineffable memory in their contents.
The worst part of our long loneliness
is having all these shared-memories
of "then", that we must share "now",
alone. When you left, the fire of life dimmed.
But your warmth, that smile, that voice
are forever fresh, as the last times we knew them.
We will love you this same way
until you greet us again, there,
beckoning in Heaven's doorway,
with "Hey, Dudes!", the last thing
we heard you say. Our only son.
You were the dearest gift to a home
that a family could know. You are loved.
You were buddy, brother, son, and friend.
God lent us a love that cannot end.
Pulcherimae.
Most precious.
Indescribable.
Irreplaceable.
Winsome.
Beautiful.
Handsome.
Loving.
Gentle.
Memorable.
Unique.
Our only son.
(What awful emptiness).
Back to WONDERHORSE`s Poetry
Comments
Jessica Cook Martin AKA onelilartist
I'm wiping the tears from my face as I read this. You know from past comments that I truly feel your pain. Thank God that there is a place of reunion when this life is over. A word, a song, a smell can bring with it memories that tear at the heart and open the grief for a blast of pain that cripples the day at unexpected times. If you can write this, you are healing, and that is what I have prayed for. The saddest part is the inability to say to one's partner, "Remember when he...?" because you know it will freshen her lurking pain. Share it here, Teddy. Where no one will scold for your insensitivity when everything you have written of your precious son is gentle and sensitive and graceful in it's pain and loss.
I wish for you the peace of mind that only God can give, the comfort of our Comforter, as long as you shall live.
Your Friend,
Jessica onelilartist
Ron Miller. Such a moving poem, a wonderful tribute. I have children but I can't imagine what it would be like to lose one of them. The memories will never diminish but I hope the pain eases.
Ron Miller
Commentator
April 2 2003
ronjo@poeticarts.net
Doves
Hi Teddy,
What a heart wrenching poem.
I too have a 19 year old son, and can only imagine what you must be going through. My heart goes out to you. So beautifully written, so full of love!
Jackie Khreibani
Poeticarts Commentator
April 2nd 2003
Doves@poeticarts.net
His Daddy
Your comments have helped a bit more of healing to come over my heart. The transition from "love", into "grief", and then to "a smile" is a very long process. You each have indicated that you understand a bit of this process. My love returns to you, for your expression of love for me. Merci. Rex.
Lesa Gay Aspiring Angel
Dear Teddy,
To feel the pain of a friend, as I have in the reading of this, brings tears to my eyes, as well as my heart.
Your love for your son is so plainly felt through the words you have chosen to describe him to us.
These are the words of a poet that expresses fully the agony of loss experienced by a father that pens the true emotions of his heart.
I commend you my friend for finding it within yourself to share these feelings with us.
I am sure that your son knows how much he was, and is loved. I am also sure, that he is very proud of his father that is trying to find a way to heal the heart that still yearns to hear the words "Hey, Dudes."
Your friend,
Lesa
Lesa Gay
Aspiring Angel
PoeticArts Commentator
March 28, 2003
chellewood
A truly deeply felt and moving piece.
I believe that love so strong is eternal and has no bounds!!
29 Mar 03
Chelle Wood
PoeticArts Commentator
ChelleW@poeticarts.net
salphire5
Such love! Such loss! Such pain!
It wounds me deeply to read your poem.
Your emotions are beautifully expressed. I am sure that your unending love is being reciprocated.
Thank you sharing this with us all.
FM Salphire
++
TIDES . .The Prince Of Charms.
(From a fragment, by me here contorted,
of W.B.Yeats in a copy of
"Responsibilities", 1914,
quoting Khoung Fou Tseu / Kung Fu Tze / Konfucius :
"...I have not seen the Prince of Chang in my dreams."
This made me think of Prince Of Charms.)
The Prince of Charms now quietly stands
in the living foam on the swimming sands.
The neap-tide of Time, momentarily still,
waits to creep in with its numbing chill
that spreads from bare-sole to circling-crown,
shiveringly sweeping, up, o'er, then down.
Prince of Charms knows he can only know
but one cycle of neap- and ebb- , and then go
away with his garnered sweet memories
of the vastness that comes, and stays, or flees.
For Charming's life-cycle is so finite,
and will end, try as though any willed Prince might.
New Life-cycle begun, old ended, "Life! : AWAY!
Although Prince of Charms, you cannot stay!"
And subsequent Princes of Charms shall come,
and other lives (not MINE, I will too-soon be gone!),
will take their consequent stands, thru ebb- and neap-,
and too, make promises, and too, promises keep.
The Prince of Charms now so quietly stands,
while Life is erased; it was written in sands.
© Teddy Patton
("Prince Of Charms" is,
of course a way of saying
"Prince Charming".)
Back to WONDERHORSE`s Poetry
Comments
Doves
Hi Teddy.
Magical words,Loved your prince charming!
Jackie Khreibani
Poeticarts commentator
May 31st 2003
Doves@poeticarts.net
Ron Miller
Great work Teddy, good imagery with a nice flow.
Ron Miller
Commentator
27 may 2003
ronjo@poeticarts.net
Soul_Poetess
Such a splendid cycle of thoughts and the very interesting Prince of Charms Exquisite imagery.
The last lines left me spell-bound.
Well done!
25/05/03
Neha M
Poeticarts Commentator
NehaM@poeticarts.net
magikalwords
Like Prince Charming we cherish sweet memories of life; a life that is “loaned” to us and which will one day end in death. Like everyone, a Prince Charming will die and a new Prince Charming will be born and the cycle goes on and on.
Another excellent write, Teddy.
Frost & Yeats must be smiling down on you feeling proud(LOL)
Anette Gurbatri
Poeticarts Commentator
May 23rd, 2003
Magikalwords@poeticarts.net
Priscilla Woodliff
I love the imagery of this poem you have brought this prince full circle.
May 23, 2003
Poeticarts Commentator
++
There is a style I cannot find,
a cadence common to all hearts:
I seek to find & to be found
in ALL men’s & women’s hearts.
Bitter love, bitterer infatuation
have the same pulse; both are pure
in their individual fashion,
but one is angel, the other is whore.
If you’ve escaped harassment
by those little man-made demons
of Remembrance & Regret,
please say HOW ! (No man’s done it.)
Sometimes I just cannot move :
the shawl of Life, Oh, Life weights me !
But, Oh, it keeps me warm and safe!
What pleasant dream awaits me !
(It was just a small, small crack,
the chip that broke in to my life’s cup.
Un-noticed, more ran out than came back;
& now I suck the sands to gather the Wine up.)
Back to WONDERHORSE`s Poetry
Comments
Mary
And I who thought he was sincere
Shall not shed more of bitter tears
How many ways and times will I
Subject myself to wounds and cry?
He plays too much it is my guess,
I won't participate in jest.
I shall not stay for more dismay
I bid to you a fond good-day.
.-HORSE. himself
Ah, mon fleur,
take all those regrets,
wind them in Life's silver cords,
bind them in Remembrance's sweetest,
and convert them into Love's highest words:
even after such desertion,
after Envy's awful assertion,
the very best is still ours
(who are true Life-Lovers):
no treachery can make us hate;
no lie can make US untrue.
And this Truth we can e'er relate:
the gall of past is sweet now with you!
Butterfly!
And the taste is bitter gall
Sucked from the dry granular bits
But Oh I would give my very all
For that same release from Regret's hits.
++
T..H..E......W..A..L..L.......
.
.
.
.
.
ALL WE ARE IS OUR PAST.
..WE...HAVE...NO...FUTURES..
Who will tell of OUR stories,
we whose names are in this rock?
That gash in Time and Space,
reminder of that black hole
that sucked us all in.
Like a leprous wound,
oozing death out,
suppurating pain and loss.
We paid.
And paid.
And still pay!
More than any price
of some piece of granite.
No rock can assuage a hurting mind.
You see names; I hear cries.
You see stone; I see shredded dreams,
bloodied flak-jackets, ruined lives.
And we all prayed this prayer
at one time or another::
O, Death!,
if you DO come
in your inevitableness,
please, PLEASE grant a warrior
his one last wish::
come in gentleness!!
Let me die unafraid!!!
++
The Star Spangled Banner. a fourth verse (NOT .Politically correct.)
.
.
.
.
Oh, don't you feel awe when you hear her proud strains?
Does your blood quicker move, do your eyes brighter glisten?
At the sound of that tune, and the thought of her name,
does your skin rush with pride, and your heart pause to listen?
For the blood of our Heroes,
their battles, our vict'ries,
all blend in the proofs
of this Cause which is Liberty's!
So we smile at the marchers,
each liberal-mind-slave;
the misguided CAN protest,
because our Warriors were brave!
Back to WONDERHORSE`s Poetry
Comments
-HORSE
I have body-piercings too, with Purple Hearts to prove them; and I carry always a little flagon of hair-spray with me (really, it is petrol) to accomodate any flag-burning faggot whom I may see, and who may need their hair modified by a bit of a singe. "Don't Tread On Me" still means the same as it always did, to this Ami.
++
(The Road Not Taken) .The Heart`s Way, Seldom Taken.
.
.
Two hearts converged, each in mellow mood.
(How strange that Fate had prepared them both
to be open and fully prepared to see the good
of what may live where once loss had stood.)
Now Gain lives in that place, with Truth.
Each loves the other; mutual trust their crown.
Lush joys live when true love once is shared.
The uplifting grandeur of Grace is purest known.
Beauty's soul-refining powers have been shown;
the ardor-inspiring potents of Grace we've shared.
No "proud" heart here; but "true" heart, "pure" heart.
One is mine, one is hers: as same-heart now we live.
Her tender heart, soft heart, once sadly torn apart,
still seeks for Love's refuge and new reason to start;
so I accept hers, and mine brings nothing to deceive.
I shall fondly be telling this, in my latest words,
how her fullest meaning fulfils all of my intents.
Two hearts converged, lives touched, and moods.
Thus, now both are singing as one, in ringing chords:
"Your Heart Has Made All Of My Life's Difference!"
(Fond thanks to R.F. for the inspiration of format;
and to "mc" for the inspiration of intent.)
Back to WONDERHORSE`s Poetry
Comments
Doves
Hi Teddy.
What totally beautiful words of love!
Jackie Khreibani
Poeticarts commentator
May 28th 2003
Doves@poeticarts.net
Ron Millers
Words of Love, what can be more appealing than that. Great work Teddy.
Ron Miller
Commentator
27 May 2003
ronjo@poeticarts.net
Soul_Poetess
Extremely Beautiful!
Thank you for sharing!
Neha M
Poeticarts Commentator
May 25, 2003
NehaM@poeticarts.net
magikalwords
Great impressionistic poem. Excellent use of images and the heart as a symbol of true and pure love.
Anette Gurbatri
Poeticarts Commentator
May 23, 2003
Magikalwords@poeticarts.net
Priscilla Woodliff
I love the words "No proud heart here, true heart, pure heart, one heart. Beautifully written. Experiencing love lost makes love found only sweeter.WOW!
++
THE LONG TRAIL
.
.
The brightest of stars
may not lead Wayfarer home;
it is those tiniest ones,
those dim but fairest ones,
that still guide his heart :
home he WILL come.
(Remembering long, lone, dark nights in 'Nam,1966~7)
++
The Girl With The Flaxen Hair
ONE....LAST....ENDLESS....KISS
"Le Fille Aux Cheveux De Lin "
~ I
LOOK AT YOU,
& MY HEART
LOOKS AT YOURS,
& WE LOVE
WHAT WE SEE:
~ WE~ SEE~ LOVE~
WE SEE LOVE’S
SOFT, PURE VISION TRUE,
THROUGH LOVE’S EYES.
~ AND
I SENSE
MORE THAN “SEE”
THE SOFT GLINT .
OF THE STARS
AND THE MOON,
SHIMM’RING THERE
~ IN ~YOUR ~HAIR~
WE FIND
THE DREAM.
DREAM PAST TIME;
BEYOND ALL TIME.
LOVE FLOATS US THROUGH
ALL OF THOSE BEAUTIFUL ROOMS
OF ITS CASTLE,
ITS SECRETS
ALL OURS
TREASURES OURS!!!!!
SO RARE, OURS!!!!
PLEASURES OURS!!!
SO FAIR, OURS!!
OURS!
OH, THEN SOFT
FLOWS MY LOVE
MY SOUL SEES YOURS,
I’M SET FREE;
OF LIFE’S BONDS,
OF LIFE’S CARES,
THERE’S NO TIME, NOR IS THERE PLACE,
THERE’S JUST LOVE.
ALL THAT’S HERE IS ONLY YOU,
THERE’S JUST YOU.
ALL THERE IS, JUST LOVE & US;
……HOLD,
WITH YOUR GLANCE;
YOUR FAIR CHARMS
MY ABODE;
LOVE IS WHAT
~ I ~ LIVE ~ FOR. ~
YOUR LOVE, MY
FONDEST HOPE
OVERWHELMED
BY JUST YOU,
BY JUST YOU!
HEAR MY TRUE----MY TRUEST HEART,
AS IT SINGS
ITS TRUE SONG; SEE MY TRUE HEART
THROUGH FAIR EYES,
EYES & HEART OF LOVE AND TRUTH.
Float
with me, here
with you in space,
waiting here,
with you
in Time,
loving
your face,
captured
by grace,
here, just
we two,
in Love,
lost in
Love’s power.
.........ALL
PLEASURES PASS,
BUT THE MEM’-
RIES THEY LEAVE
TAKE ON LIVES
~ THAT ~ LIVE ~ ON~ ,
IN THE HEART,
NO MATTER WHAT
TIME MAY BRING.
WHEN SO
TRUE-LOVED
HEARTS DO
NOT DIE!!
OH, COME,
CAPTURE
THE LOVE!!
THE SONG,
IS OURS!!
WHEN SUNG
AS ONE,
SO SWEET,
SO TRUE!!,
WE’LL TEACH
EACH STAR
TO SING!!
AND THEN
OUR SOULS
WILL SHARE
ONE LAST
TRUE
SWEET
ENDLESS
KISS.
© Teddy Patton
2002-02-05 18:51:33
++
STATEMENT
I care about riches, only to make gifts to friends;
to give succor to the aching and the friendless;
to bring wellness and wholeness to the unwell or unwhole;
to present sweet and pure Hope to those who feel hopeless;
to say words of true comfort to the uncomplete-able,
filling and completion to those
who feel empty and incomplete.
My plenty shall increase the ease of others:
wealth is to me small comfort once I have
warmth that is sure and inspiring,
hunger that is slight yet compelling.
Once these are assuaged and are assured,
within our Basics, rich and poor are much the same:
we find purest satisfaction in relaxation;
in times of re-creating we affirm our true worth;
our Psyches and Somas seek and need this expression.
Our worth, our loves, our belonging are facets of our Gem:
our life, its wealth and meaning belong to the world;
I am His Steward, A willing slave. May God help me.
When it sets, they mourne....those who worshipped the sun;
they who worshipped wealth face doom when wealth is gone.
But I worship That Thing Intangible, Depthless, Endless;
may my epitaph be thus: "HE DID NOT DIE FRIENDLESS".
Back to WONDERHORSE`s Poetry
Comments
Jessica Cook Martin AKA onelilartist
You, Sir, aren not friendless as long as I live. This is lovely and totally like the Christian man I've come to know over the Internet. Well said.
Somewhere in the future I see for you a place to rest and relax and rekindle your creative fires that your rushed and overflowing life pushes to the background. Even a generous steward needs a time of rest.
Jessica onelilartist
Helen Schmidt
Congratulations Teddy! This poem has been selected by Priscilla Woodliff as a Commentator’s Favourite Choice. Well done!
Helen Schmidt
Director, Poeticarts Panel of Commentators
March 15, 2003
Priscilla W.
Bravo! beautifully done. I hope your friends treasure the gift.
March 13,2003
++
SONNET FOR A THUNDEROUS, TORNADIC NIGHT. MAY 5, 2003
The torrents rage violently;
at 3:00 AM they waken me
with this tin-roof soliloquy!
While safely sheltered, here is me;
the rain on this roof is charming me!
This darkling inspiration mesmerizes me!
This rain is MINE---each drop is much!
Each will eventually the south Gulf reach,
but God has let me be the FIRST to touch!
( All blessings are much the same
in that their destinies are far and long;
but first God lends them to just o n e .)
SOME CALL IT "RAIN", AND CURSE IT;
GOD SAYS: "IT'S BLESSING! GO USE IT!!
(This is my justification for being unable to sleep AT 3:00 A.M.)
++
Somewhere, Out There, A Shy Bird Sings
I lean my trail-bike against this fence,
take water-bottle, pen, and pad, in my hands.
I venture into this mossy thicket where paused-Time stands.
Cool, dank with A.M. dew, I know my mind soon will fill
with the images places like this thrust deeply into my will.
Primeval was MY source: it is where I refresh me, still.
I stand, breath bated, savoring sound and scent.
The Nature-chorus echoes God's Prime, Pure Intent.
And comes to me a "Purpose", God's "Soul-refreshment".
When the first Garden of all was created by God
He had a Plan in mind, and ALL His Plans are good.
Quiet in my A.M. garden, I understand, am understood : :
"A Hand Reached In To Comfort And Cradle Me" this morning.
The one who aimed it did not know my needs, my pleading;
she merely penned the route her artist-heart was feeling.
"All Art is Beauty; All Beauty is Art" the sages have said.
The awfulest remorse is from Love that has remained unsaid.
Paint Heart-words!! Let ALL Love's Beauties be loud-said!!
{{If but ONLY the LOVELIEST of the roses had a scent,
then the earth's all other gardens would be unfragrant,
entrapped in a hopelessness of the dreariest descent.
If but ONLY the SWEETEST would be the sole singing-bird,
other gardens would be deafeningly still, Musics un-heard.
How dull, empty and aching would be this saddened world.}}
But, you ONLY, mild poet, have deftly written such musing!
Now all Nature fills up with the sweetest of all singing!
1,000,000,000 and MORE buds are born and fresh-blooming!!
And "in here, everywhere", is my heart's freshening pulse.
In arts of poet, bird and flower, all Nature feels the rush!
Upon my senses pouncing, pouring; ahhh! my soul would burst!
'Tis YOU! 'Tis YOU! They assail me, regale me and inspire!
Ancientest musings bathe me in ether-glow and star-fire!
There will be no end to growing, glowing, for Loving will ne'er expire!!!
Back to WONDERHORSE`s Poetry
Author Comments
TEDDY
"A Hand Reached In..." was the igniter for this piece, courtesy of ~LESA~, and prompted by her thanks for my comment about the "....most beautiful bird...." I just had to expand on that. The impetus for this all has been around for about 3-yrs., since that is how old my trail-bike is. But, of late, MUCH has been added to the mix.
salphire5
Ah Teddy,
Such longing,such satiation, such beauty, such an ending!
LOL!! Wicked humour, self-directed.
FM Salphire
3 April 03
Jessica Cook Martin AKA onelilartist
Reading this is like melting into a Victorian painting to hear one of the greats open his heart in verse. Very nicely done and the essence was not lost in the reading.
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SCHE-REX-EZADE~~~ONE-THOUSAND NIGHTS----and Other Moments
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ONE.
A man-
a woman-
is like a poem:
a moment in Time,
a moment in Nature;
then a collection of those
and other (and others') Ti
