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C Fuller Poem
Any (every) man
can brag about his conquests,
the notches in his belt
little rungs on a ladder
baptized in ********.
Any (every) man
can regale you with stories
of their swordsmanship or cunning
linguistics.
Any (let's just be honest and say all) man
can try to hold a woman down
while pretending to hold her hand.
But it takes a REAL man
to look a beautiful woman
in her emerald moth eyes
and say;
"Will you teach me how to fish? "
Copyright © C Fuller | Year Posted 2009
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Details |
C Fuller Poem
Staring into the water
I see chaos in the ripples,
truth in the stillness.
All are eventually seduced into entropy's bed.
From the deep recesses of my repressed
soul the imprint of you pushes through, slightly
piercing my dented and demented armor.
I must now answer the question that was, and is
forged in the subtle machinations and molecular
windmills of flight and fancy while our souls
play hide and seek among the tombstone memories
of fallen lovers.
I guess all that really needs to be said ( unsaid ) is;
I miss you.
Copyright © C Fuller | Year Posted 2012
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Details |
C Fuller Poem
Awake,
for the first time in eons.
I love this delicate Tango
as Mother nature
sings sotto voce,
the rain as her voice. the wind, her whisper.
Your siren serenade
no longer falling on long-
deaf ears.
My will,
pierced by moth-wing needles
and catfish dreams,
falls under its' own remorse.
Words slip from your tongue
magically magnetic
and i am found, again,
for the first time-
i realize that
down the road there is a tiny garden
with a tiny bench, and two weather-pitted
cherubs grace the sides,
apart, yet altogether knowing
they are meant to be,
and all that happy horseshit.
Copyright © C Fuller | Year Posted 2009
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