Longing for heart-quiet
in the inevitable fall
into Winter’s short days of sun
forwarding to Spring’s
longer days — a circling back
in the sameness of time.
with no respite. A longing to quiet
those thoughts playing back
battle after battle. The awful
repetition. Mind and life wasting.
And, in the darkest season,
the conviction that the sun
will only half-rise in this lifetime
of mine. Feeling that sting
as from a bee’s disquiet
of green slumber. Swelling to a fault,
every damned day. Slamming me back,
season upon season. Holding me back.
Chilling me with doubt that sun-
shine can overcome rainfall
and that, invariably, given time,
better times will come and quietly
advance into Spring. Fast forward, past Spring
to Summer, and onto Fall springing
back to Winter, and round again. Flashbacks
ever more glaring under the sun, then, quite
out of the blue — a glance, a nod. Overrun
with fluttering, my heart paces in time
with fledging love’s free-fall.
And, with the passing of another Fall,
Winter heralds in the sweetest of Springs:
daffodils and Easter bonnets — a lifetime
of celebration ahead, no looking back.
Past risk and reason, I bask in the sun
that is love’s shine. Rain or shine, quiet
in the peace of it all, Fall after Fall, back
to Winter, Spring, Summer. Quiet as a Spring sun
bursting through clouds. Love, for all time, requited.
Copyright © Ruth Sabath Rosenthal | Year Posted 2014
The day’s beginning is a special gift.
Given over a life’s eternity,
One can’t help but feel the daily change.
How often we stay into the evening. An attempt to hold
Onto the feelings of joy and elation,
That made our day so emphatically special.
Are not the future possibilities also special?
That we dream of yet other gifts,
gifts of such thought, that might also inspire elation
From giver and receiver for all eternity.
Constantly close to both, holding,
As if to say, “Don’t Ever Change.”
Does growth not require change?
Should not that change be also special?
Only if you have forgotten about holding,
The longing embrace of previous gifts,
One that requires attention for all eternity,
fueling existential feelings of elation.
Even when intentionally forgotten, holding
On to the recipient, despite elation.
At one point, this internal agony was a gift.
What could ever make this change?
This gift that could never be more special.
Now it has changed for eternity.
The re-direct of energy through eternity,
The loss of love’s forever embrace.
Love, making pain beautifully special.
Will there ever be elation?
Maybe if we only change
The way we exchange special gifts.
Our future’s eternity might fill with elation
From holding the exchange
Of something special,
… the mere appreciation of a gift..
Copyright © Matthew Sample | Year Posted 2012
Strangers undulating with rhythmic ease
Igniting the air with ecstasy
While lights flash in spectacular colour
Hot breath creates an intensity
Of steam rising up through delirious sound;
While damp, red silk caresses my skin
Sweat beading on my baking skin
As I slip through the spaces with practiced ease
I am captured by the rapturous sound
Of collective want and ecstasy
Immersed in a world of fevered intensity
Exchanging black and white for oblivious colour
Feeling the music radiate wild colour
As I slide across his skin
His gaze, unmasking my passion and intensity,
Holds me with confident ease
Contact sparking transfixing ecstasy
Our words are lost in booming sound
The vibrations of his voice, a captivating sound
My eyes temporarily blinded by colour
I am clothed in a shiver of ecstasy
As his breath strokes my skin
Pulled together with incredible ease
By impetuous desire’s intensity
Our breath shallow, we move with intensity
Lost in overwhelming sound
Moving together with unfamiliar ease
Overtaken by scent, sensation and colour
Passion radiates from our skin
Building in agonizing ecstasy
The particles between us electric with ecstasy
The pumping music loses its intensity
As we lose the barriers between our skins
Touching with breathless sound
I feel the rising heat and colour
As our lips come together with ease
Our touching skin deadening all external sound
In the intensity of dark-lit colour
Our passionate ecstasy gives way to comforting ease
Copyright © Jenni Munn | Year Posted 2011
To find the girl that I’d love best (A Sestina, 19 May 2014).
I thought to set upon a quest;
One that would put me to the test
So I left my cold and empty nest
And proceeded with vigor and zest
To find the girl that I’d love best.
Thus I left my castle in the west.
So proceeding from the west,
I set upon the aforementioned quest
To find the girl that I’d love best.
The trek was long, surely a true test,
That sometimes wore out my youthful zest
And made me regret my empty nest.
I did not turn back to my empty nest,
That was now far distant in the west,
Rather took heart to recover my zest
And with renewed hope continued my quest
Resolving to finally beat the test
To find the girl that I’d love best.
At a fork I chose the road that I thought best
Would lead to my fairest lady’s nest
But I was deceived by this beguiled test
And turned back around towards the west
To retrace my old footsteps of my quest
And returned to the fork with much less zest.
On the other road moving with less zest
I by chance met the girl that I’d love best.
She saw that I was on some kind of quest
And offered me sustenance within her nest
I desired to take her to my home in the west
And realized wooing her would be my final test
So preparing for this final test,
I pursued the charming girl with zest.
She consented to come with me to the west,
Therefore I won the one that I’d love best.
Thus I took her home back to my nest
And finally fulfilled my loving quest .
It never really was for me a test to tolerate the girl that I loved best.
So I cherished her with love and zest; because she took the emptiness from my nest.
Thus I never again set foot out from the west for another lengthy silly quest.
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014
TALL TOWERS AND DEEP WELLS
My love, come and feast on my two round mountains
whose perky tops are as dark as red roses,
and that are as soft and round as marshmellows.
They stand tall and erect as a giant tower.
Thy pleasurable tongue may be plunged into this deep well
where sweet nector is a neverending supply.
Luscious and delicious there is always a supply.
So when you need satisfying, come to these mountains.
On top of these mountains you will have great access to this well
and when you slide in, it's as velvety and as soft as roses.
You spread these rose pedals with your giant tower.
I melt under your touch as toasted marshmellows.
When you eat these delicious marshmellows,
you'll surely know that I have more than a vast supply.
Your length makes me think of a tall tower
and underneath your tall tower hangs two round mountains.
They bump against my well as gently as roses
and bring rivers gushing into my sweet well.
Your tower and mountains satisfy my deep well.
It's as though I'm filled with sweet marshmellows.
As you taste and feast you will realize I smell like sweet roses.
You must give and must supply and I must give and must supply.
Just remember to always come to these high mountains
Where my well is filled with marshmellows from your tall tower
Nothing is as firm or as tall as your tower
and when you're near me you seem to gravitate to my mountains and well.
With your tower in my well you gently kiss my mountains.
My dark red rose petals swell as you explode sweet marshmellows.
There is no shortage here but a great supply.
All of this love takes place in our bed of sweet roses.
What is more fragrant than a bed of roses
or more delightful than to be gently entered by a giant tower?
Knowing your length I'm sure you would be able to supply.
There's such an awesome craving in my deep well.
And only you can supply me with sweet marshmellows.
Please fill that longing and pleasure these mountains.
Come smell these sweet roses and drink from my well.
I'll play with and taste your tower and you can feed me your marshmellows.
For you have an unending supply which you can release on my mountains.
Copyright © Noelle Devereau | Year Posted 2014
He was a wanderer searching for a good time.
She was a wanderess searching for love.
They both searched relentlessly and found one another,
And when they did, it was love at first sight.
Together, the two of them the conquer anything.
Although they just met, everything felt so right.
The wanderess had never felt something so right.
But she would come to find in time,
That you can never listen to anything
That was wanderer has to say about love.
One second he was there, and the next he was gone without a sight,
Leaving with the wanderess's heart, soon to steal yet another.
The wanderess feared that she'd never find another
Lover. However, she knew that his actions were very far from right,
Yet still she still wanted him to come back into her sight.
She so badly craved more of his time,
But the wanderer refused to return her love.
For his love, she would have done anything.
The wanderer left the wanderess unable to do anything.
She was so concerned with sulking about how she'd never find another
Like him. All she wanted was his love.
Then it hit her. She thought, "Who ever told him that he had the right
To break my heart and waste my time?"
Never again did she want him in her sight.
The wanderer saw the wanderess again, thinking "Wow! What a sight."
To get another chance he would have done anything,
But the wanderess refused to be hurt one more time.
He begged for yet another
Chance, but the wanderess knew it just wasn't right
To give her heart to someone who couldn't love.
The wanderer craved a different type of love.
The kind of love that vanished without a sight.
Never did he learn that it was not right
To throw away someone's heart as though it never meant anything.
When she was ready, the wanderess found another,
And the wanderer found a girl who would surely waste his time.
The wanderer was unsure of how to love anyone or anything,
So the wanderess shifted her sight to another
Person who would not be selfish with his love or his time.
Copyright © Shae Cooksey | Year Posted 2016
On this night, there was a girl.
She shuffles along a path of stone.
Along the trail where shadows dance,
moonlight is the only colour.
In the dark, the animals feast.
Poor tiny creatures, cute and warm.
Inside her coat she stays warm.
Out from the trail, there was a girl.
Through the door to an illustrious feast,
she collects a smile from a face of stone.
Happy, surprised by vivid colour,
she moves across the floor to dance.
From her hips, she begins to dance.
Brass overtones keep her warm.
Playing every note with living colour,
they paint a picture of the girl.
She glides across the stage of stone,
enchanting the lucky about to feast.
“Sit and be merry, for now we feast!”
In conversation, patrons dance.
Across the table made of stone,
she meets a boy whose heart is warm.
“May I have your hand?” He asks the girl.
She smiles with cheeks of rose red colour.
Entangling souls of vibrant colour,
eternally share preamble feast.
Mystified he leads the girl,
through satiated crowd, they dance.
Around the pit, the air is warm,
embers crack in a ring of stone.
Destiny watches the rolling stone,
New lovers glow in merigold colour.
Holding each other, staying warm,
until only ashes remain of infernal feast.
Under the moonlight they dance.
“May I see you again?” he asks the girl.
On a path of stone, she leaves the feast.
In moonlight colour, two lovers dance.
Together warm, a boy meets girl.
Copyright © Joshua Dusome | Year Posted 2017