We all knew a fellow named ‘Tiny Tim’
Fit as a fiddle, though extremely slim
Poor Tim had weakling muscles
And needed a side hustle
So he spent all his spare time in the gym
Categories:
musclebound, change, health, humor,
Form: Limerick
What have you seen, moon’s sister?
With your deep and distant eyes.
And endless dominoes of experience
Having worn your cheeks
And gritted your teeth
Where did you come from?
Bruised inside and out
Still proud, still firm
In the face of a million eyes
You do not blink
Who knows your smile?
So bright, yet so sad
A golden river in a pale crystal,
Kissed by the fleeting cosmos,
Struck by musclebound meteors of time.
Why hide that face?
So often from adoration-
Perhaps out of shame, guilt, deprecation
Undeserved- save for those special nights
When we see and feel some of who you are truly
When will we really know you?
Why you cry and infectiously laugh,
Your burns and yearns of desire;
Never in this lifetime, not we
Too far away to hold or touch you.
Categories:
musclebound, nature,
Form: Free verse