I think I know of why the caged man sings,
Ballads beyond a broken heart of blue,
In chains of love singing to free his wings,
From hour to hour hymns heard by heavens hue.
Blue skies above him teased his teary eyes,
Worn out watching the wind with weary ways,
Inside of blue himself; through love he cries,
Escaping hell through hymns dost his heart prays.
Deceived by life, he sings intimate death,
Though morbid blue, he breathes ballads that bless,
A love that never loved his precious breath,
Inside of flesh, enslaved by chains of flesh.
Forsaken by feelings that wish to fly,
So long a song unsung searching the sky.
(07/09/11)
Can we write of centuries past of things
That we do not know, and can we recall
Things we read which puts our hearts aglow.
Can we feel Romeos words as he called to Juliet.
And can we feel Juliet s heart as she looked down
From her balcony.
when she felt her heart bursting
Wanting to be free.
Can we see Sampson and Delilah as
She cut off his hair.
Did she do it out of spite
Or did she really care.
Can we see Helen of troy s reaction
When they climbed out of the wooden horse
Did she truly love him, and did she feel remorse.
Can we feel MARY S pain as she had
To give up her begotten son
And did others feel the pain
Or was she the only one.
Can we imagine being nailed to that cross.
And the clothes that the soldiers did not keep
to the ground it would be tossed.
Can we imagine if we did not have
Hope, love, and faith
This is something I care not to contemplate.
Can we live without love-how would we survive
“CAN WE” ??????
A final letter from the heart my love
You sat in Vermeer’s room, maid by side;
As daylight positioned at your writing place,
Decanted through the stained glass view-
Where she did stand; there; observing
Those that came and went.
Your quill did match your heart that morn’
For it beat your breasts with all your love
As the busy conquests drew to a close.
Waiting there, as long as those drapes hung,
That very room where once, you tasted intimacy-
While others found Moses; and looking on.
Your seal remains floored reminding your maid
That her ways were mere pacifiers- those days;
Such an amusing and sweet thing she was.
And of your meeting place? She did ready,
While you napped, that afternoon slipped by,
As your Alfred and Francesca stole away; and you?
Gathered yourself, returning and only keeping diary;
Of thoughts, moments in time, betrayed in ways
Similar to those your maid witnessed as you wrote;
For nothing is ever as ordinary as that painted,
In a room Vermeer visited with his brush.
Doth not thy lover sing thee songs of love
Retreive thy dagger from my wounded heart
Or thrust it deeper with a mortal shove
Cut free this ache that tears my soul apart
Blind these eyes so they may not see your face
Bind my feet for I can not trace your path
Thy voice is equal to an angels grace
Take back this pain that cuts my heart in half
Lead me not to temptation's lonely door
My soul cries out why can I not repent
This dreadful place my heart cannot ignore
Nor will pain from this broken heart relent
Am I not your Romeo like before?
My Juliet why hath you turned away?
On my knees I beseech you on the floor
I beg of you please tell me what to say
'Tis I who must now turn and walk away
If you truly have no love left to give
I wonder what Shakespeare would have to say
If he could see that both of us could live
what fool
had ever lived
lock his heart
inside a shell
nor nothing to give
thus his soul breaks
in this crowded world
that bring forth
the tears of pain
somewhere inside
rest the heart of
the hollow tin man
Peace has gone from my heart like a thief that is lie in waiting ready to emerge from
hiding as result leaving me frightened and confused. I am paralyzed from
uncertainty, and my mind wonders as if I am in shocked from the sudden impacted
from being mugged by the unexpected thief. The peace of my heart is snatched
away without a question, if I should relinquish it or not. My heart lies naked without
the covering of tranquility. I feel so cold and scare not knowing if my present state is
indefinite. I am vulnerable because the secure housing of my heart is gone, and
maybe forever. The foreboding of calamity lies at the entrance, and I am panicky
knowing what the future entails, frighten because it has not yet unfold.
her legs unending
she was wearing a mini
her crimson red lips
his heart pounding rapidly
her eye bags slowed his heart rate
*Missy Nikko's "weird"
body part of choice eye bags,
combined with Carolyn's body
part of choice the heart :) *
20/04/2011
Her songs were hers yet us she gave...
That by which her heart we'd save.
From troubles bairn o'foolish strife...
Of prospect nil or turmoil rife.
Amid those mountains deep with dew...
Heard these words just those few.
Silent song or rhythmic chant...
Mountain through her did so rant.
Took we did with breathless dare...
Her burdens oh so great.
Carried then through time aware...
So such with to fear abate.
On sang she to us all...
Thus her heart now doth fall.
Into that which best be felt...
Within such song her tear did melt.
SeaWolf
©
A mirror hang upon the wall
Within a frame of brass,
Edges moulds the leaves of fall
Around the silver glass.
I stretch my fingers touching
The cold hand that reach to mine,
A pen the fingers clutching
Moving in a unseen line.
Ink stains on my fingertips
Reflect, exact the same,
Words that form upon my lips
Repeated in the frame.
Your eyes are windows to your soul
A phrase I once heard said,
reflect in mirrors good or fowl
In which your heart is read.
But in this glass before my face
I see my eyes dark blue,
of my soul there is no trace
Nor of my heart a clue.
A mirror in a mirrors glass
Reflecting truth or lies?
Emotions in a frame of brass
Reflected In my eyes.
A rose has been growing here with tears for years;
In my heart and in my cell
But now I must send it out, for without a doubt
It doesn’t belong here in this hell
So to you I give this rose from the garden of my heart,
And though it was raised in prison, please allow it a fresh start
Let it warm your heart with love, keep it safe and strong;
For it has lived on tears but it will never do you wrong
It needs a lot of love, so don’t ever make it cry
And most of all, don’t send it back
For the prison rose will surely die!!!
*See me on FaceBook (Jimmy M. Anderson) There are 3 pixs of me.
The shadows playing with the silvery beams,
In devils' imagination her dreams,
Lifted veils and her heart aches for a kiss,
Demon's bride besieged in her nuptial bliss.
Heavy black and heavenly lace to wear,
Taken crudely by the predator,
Cringes as her sister watches in awe,
Waits her turn to be seduced by her mate.
Thus explored and repeatedly provoked,
Bond and tuned to his pleasure and passion,
She moans and cries in the monster's desire,
Bursts to climax tamed by his raw strikes.
Condemned to play second fiddle her heart cries,
Torn between her co-born and the tyrant,
She pleads for her unhampered induction,
Into hell's systematic subservience.
My heart is slowly falling,
Falling into this thing called love.
And
Softly being swayed back and forth,
By its golden chains.
The chains:
The chains are now slowly breaking,
And rusting away into dismay as she leaves.
And
As she screams away all the love,
Like red leafs on a dusk tree.
Yet my heart still looks forward to seeing her pale,
Face once more in the valley of woe.
The darkness:
Shame and deceit,
Weaken my body.
And the darkness that surrounds me,
Never felt so comforting.
As I fade away into its bosoms,
For only she knew how to keep me,
In touch with this thing called life.
Now I’m afraid, I’m alone, and falling into a void,
Where beauty has no presence.
I love music,
It’s what makes my heart tick.
It can make my mood turn mellow or blue,
Put a smile on my face when I think about you.
Music and melodies can tear the heart right out of you,
Or raise you to a higher plain as the rhythm gets a hold and won’t let go.
Starts at the head till it finds your feet,
Then it gets hard just trying to sit there in your seat.
Some lyrics will bring on the tears,
Or melt away the years.
As they open the gate of hidden memories you thought you had forgot,
As if by magic they resurrect an old memory of a different time or spot.
Yeah, I love music,
I guess that's how I get my kicks.
Music is like history or maybe a way to gauge time,
Short stories written down in verses that usually have reason to their rhyme.