Briny tis vast bethrong
Balsam swept windsong
Droplets align brusque seas
Sailors beware perilous lees
Fickle fathoms she weeps
Discorded notion steeps
Coquet tempest squall
Bounden to celestial call
Sail me matey, harness rein
Envious tis sodden domain
Cast to enchanted sea
Foolhardy, thou may be
Hasten to landlubber true
By chance nary pines you
Submerged in foamy cascade
Seawaters tis possessive maid
It's three O' Clock
Outside Detroit.
The breeze alone,
Moves with sole alliance,
Throughout the forest;
Beckoning me to silence:
Leaving me to watch
My Thoughts wander
Through The landscape of
Disregard.
A symphony within
Its own schism.
To grasp
A cloud... is to
Grasp a thought.
Shall I tantalize
Quite like she?
Livid moon, the coquet,
Marauding beyond
Thin strips of veil
(Baiting hints of bedevil-try),
Only to reveal sudser...
My fingers shalln't ever
Feel her quicksilver wan--
Hitherto now begging solace--
Left alone
With but this humble idiom:
"So mote it be"
'Tis tender love of which I wite;
the timbre of my heart's
throe
Quean remains
for all others
to lo
Demean with a falseness
of my true emotion;
would only coquet;
that which causes
my heart to beat
strong and loud
in chimera
To covet for affections
be returned as
deep and sincere;
surely would force
the last
breath I breathe
For this is too
noble a love; too
fierce a fire
to extinquish
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