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Best Randolph Byrd Poems

Below are the all-time best Randolph Byrd poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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In Other Ways

If you love someone, you make love in other ways.
A glance, a touch, a smile.
Not just in bed.
You don't just have sex.
Making love should have no routine,
planned routines get boring and stale.
We were so spontaneous and adventerous,
finding new places and ways,
 in the precious time we had.

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Children of the Moon

Remember the ring I gave you, two small rubies seperated by a moonstone.
It was a symbol we were children of the moon, our hearts seperated by distance, 
but so like each other, only different in gender, but always connected by the 
gentle pull of the moon's gravity, under the night sky.
Children of the moon are extremely sensitive, intuitively feeling what others are 
Children of the moon are passionate, and give their whole selves when intimate 
with another.
Children of the moon value and yearn for a home not only in the heart of 
another where they are appreciated and loved well, but where they feel safe, and 
sense security in what the future might hold there, a shell to protect their 
sensitive hearts and spirits from the rest of the world.
Children of the moon have a sense of honor, and want fairness and equality in a 
world sadly lacking, a passion in our beliefs so deep, it is hard for others to 
understand who we are, and where we go sometimes, creating distance between 
the ones we love the most, family, lovers, and friends.
Because of this we can experience the greatest highs, but also the deepest lows.
For these reasons  it's important you have someone you can be with, you 
can't waste a day, waiting for me to come close enough, to love you the way you 
need to be loved.
But always remember if you are ever alone in the darkness of 
the night, look closely at the surface of the moon, you will see two children of 
the moon holding hands, one standing, one kneeling, connected and supporting 
each other forever.

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Why We Met

When we met,
both our hearts,
needed to learn how,
and to allow 
someone in.
We began a story,
that left later pages available to others,
to write words that could reach our hearts,
when becoming the new chapters in our lives.

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Why My Love Visits

My energy and thoughts are expressed most often by words.
The way my love visits.
Not to capture you,
but to be there,
where it can be found.
Hopefully this gentle prose reaches you deeply on this occasion,
fulfilling my intent to stay joined in spirit,
distance can't restrict.

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Fashion Plate in the Workplace

It's a celebration of life,
It's a celebration of self,
An inner spirit and style,
expressed thru blazes of color.
Daring to be an original,
in a gallery of the commonplace.

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A Bridge Of Love To Friendship

We become protection for each other as long as we care.
Even though not together, we help each other feel safer,
and shouldn't worry about anything beyond that.
Because we are able to say the other one deserves more,
is only a sign we want happiness for each other, in our absence.
It's OK, gentle people are cared more by others,
than they care for themselves,
it's hard to acknowledge and accept, they generate respect,
and acceptance by being who they are, flaws and all.
You're right, we won't know how to act, if we've only had suitors/suitees
in our history.
Can a man and a woman be affectionate just for fun, share any thoughts,
and know they can count on each other to just listen with due care,
and honest feedback, knowing the other will welcome it, without rejection?
Or do they need to think they are one and only's, to invest that precious time.
I guess we will see.
There shouldn't be any pressure to cross the bridge,
or be, or do, anything that doesn't feel right, at any given moment.
The wonder and magic of such a bridge, is if we can keep it in place,
whether or not it is used or needed.
No tolls required on this bridge,
It's free to send your thoughts to me.

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Perpetual Wonder

My words invite willing participation of mind and spirit.
They are meant, and sent, as a gift of love,
sharing something precious to me,
that can never be,
expressed freely in the dialogue of everyday life.
Mysterious echoes hopefully capture you,
reflecting traces from your own soul,
through the story and sound 
of the words sent to reach you.
Thanking you for your wit,
since I could never hold you close enough, long enough,
please enjoy the words I choose to send instead.
Knowing you, and how I feel about you within,
even from afar, and when you need to be close to others,
can only be described as a climate of perpetual wonder.

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A Melody

A melody was created within me,
by knowing you,
and it remains.
I hope we stay connected and OK,
no matter how it works out with others.
It takes some faith to keep anything viable for a lifetime.
You ignore me, which probably accounts for our longevity.
How could we become stale?
It's not the souvenirs and memories,
we keep that matter.
It's the story behind them.
Why I like the birds so much,
they don't just tell their stories,
they sing them.
Thinking of you from time to time,
creates a humm of satisfaction,
drawn from a resevoir inside.
But the anticipation of drawing near to you from a distance,
always started an inner voice to sing.
Like nature's messenger's singing their stories celebrating spring,
proclaiming a familiar friend is returning,
after the long winter season that lingered too long.

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You Are One

Good to know you are well loved there.
I can offer that from here,
but without presence, incomplete.
Yet there's something about knowing you,
that makes me braver, and more confident.
Love is rarely unadulterated.
It affects us in ways we may never know.
Forgive me because my heart is slower to learn,
what the swift mind beholds at every turn.
There are people in your life if you are very fortunate,
who brought you their untold gifts of laughter, with the tears,
love in unconventional ways, and widsom.
You are one.

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Among the Tall Trees

Among the tall trees, I walk to find me.
When I venture in nearby woods, beauty, power, and mystery are revealed for all to see,
allowing focus to return to the unspoiled things, I forget exist in my daily struggles of life.
Nature if I can only listen closely, talks to my creative spirits, and surrounds me with mysteries I can't solve, keeping me humble, in awe, and renewing hope I can belong here as a guest, not to disturb or change, but to allow my captive spirit to take wing.
When I walk long enough thru any wilderness it calms me, slowing me to the patient cadence of the season.
I again feel my inner rhythm lost to lives moving too swiftly.