Best Contours Poems

to my kindred soul
...i know you are out there
somewhere on the other side
across cobblestone streets
that scorn my feet, like hearts
on the pathways and wrong turns
of...

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An echo of lovesome passion, an inspiration of unborn theme,
A muse hypnotic, adept at composing aspirations of my dream,
Omnipresent voice of being, poetry is my...

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“Not enjoyment, and not sorrow;
  Is our destined end or way;
  But to act, that each to-morrow
  Find us farther than today.”
A...

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If I have the time, I’ll wait eons, to greet you in scarlet dawn
As you marvel its vermillion garb embossing marigold arc
Emanating golden sparks, piercing...

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Golden sun enlightens contours of violet arc
Painting mauve motifs on canvas of cosmic art
When constellation of dewdrops sparkle on grass
And thoughts of your allure enchant...

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Sometimes, in uncertain outcomes, as life agitates,
It can sway either way, maneuvering on the edge,
For a difference rather modest, makes the final call,
When a narrow...

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Sheer poetry in motion with a picnic basket in hand 
Laughing brandishing a bottle as he lopes along the sand
His handsome features completely wreathed in...

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An empty echo bellows from within the depths of a chasm. Endless and cold, it moans an apathy that desecrates the sanctity of love and...

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Forever my love

~

Simple reminders of conscious belief
Filter my mind midst the moon’s silver glow
Satisfied truths sent to spell my relief
All that my beating heart now...

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Gentle winds warm my old and wrinkled skin
As feet begin to sink in sea's soft sand
Seabirds found warmest winds to glide again
Beyond gray contours of...

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Tiptoeing fond emotions how playfully you tease
Titillating seductively my memories to appease
Springs that once blossomed passionate appeal
When indulgent eyes met contours of your zeal
Tantalizing tenor...

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I.
Father,
my knees
quiver and quake,
they bend
then break
like a reed
ensnared in
the tempest’s throes

II.
My sanguine palms,
stammering in fear of
Your reprisal,
whimper in their
muted state,
rendered silent by
their barbarity

III.
This timber crucifix,
once...

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Growing out of childish pranks,
With the storm and stress of turbulent teens,
I locked within my mind’s cupboard,
A portrait vaguely sketched, but never finished.
Rough it was,...

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deep and late into the hem of night
my thoughts question uncertainties,
              ...

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I still look for her. 
In the middle of the typing and the traffic 
and the deadlines and the bills, 
I look for her–the girl,...

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