To Paddle One's Canoe Over Still Waters (A Poem About Fictitious Love Stories)

To Paddle One's Canoe Over Still Waters



Seeming storylines are child's play

Appearing to you like 'tis

something funny


Out of our little trembling political


If only stars are the silent majority


They must twinkle—endlessly, without a noise


No matter how far we are,


The light year spanned space-time

to have brought

me to you


—wondering, now, if vice versa is





In a sense of delight that had made

young lovers swoon

'Tis a mother's loving caress to a



A perfect love of Astrological


And forever they will

choose to share lovingkindness



—to each other & for others.

As well.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Reedited on 11.23.2019 (I have supplanted the {minor misspelling of "light year"} but this time, I think I have added a period as its resulting emendation, due to a possible lack of it which was previously left unnoticed).



This is a repost from my Twitter platform & which has been edited for a very minor misspelling of "light year".  I have corrected the two-word noun.  For anything else that I might have edited (e.g., I might have also missed), that could only be involving a tweaking of the form (e.g., which might have been changed/affected by my copying & pasting method of the verses; either that or other copyediting stuff like by changing fonts/font sizes).  Thank you for checking it out.


As your head nestles upon my softness
I caress the image of you.

I hold the grace of the moment in my fingertips.
Tracing soft, parted lips,
stroking the rough stubble from jaw to chin
closed eyes revel in my touch.

Sensuous pleasures echo through the hint of morning's blush,
bringing forth a radiance that softens the mantle of darkness.

Eyes of my soul gaze adoringly,
anticipating only shadows of you.

The curves and angles of your handsome, contented face,
the smoothness of your sculptured chest,
your hazelnut body draped serenely across my own.

I silently reach for you
savoring this reflection for days to come.

Bittersweet as you fly away from this moment...
cherishing the reclaiming of the next.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Always...but a moment...WM

Sorry, I'm Sore

I was prperly answering
your questions
It's not even twenty
to eat in portions

The answers bloomed
not for what flower I pick
Life is just a comment
but taken like a picnic

If fancied lightly, piecemeal
Jolted freely as my will
When jarred, olden sill
To find but very real

Then demons as we all
angels are good
But they both agree
In some thought would

we hide and show
Turning entities
outside time's window

The grainy study
Of mankind
Assertive because
'Tis not refined

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