Details |
Gordon Wilmot Poem
In early August,before summer ends,
before the winds of autumn gust,
before new fashions and new friends,
watching the glaze of the sun at dusk,
The evening sky painted gold,yet cool,
the days are still hot and worn,
we have yet to see bedspreads of wool,
and still wear socks,dirty and torn,
Yet,beneath the waning moonlight,
I gaze into your eyes with solemn vow,
which shines intentively bright,
feeling Tchaickovsky's "Pas de Deau",
Feeling in the night,our bodies sway,
as we float high above the Eiffel Tower,
and I in tune with Chevalier's "Outre",
as we embrace into the early morning hour,
The momentum which the night will bring,
as the comfort sets within,
above us Angels sofetly sing,
and your beauty I embrace now and herein,
Stars of endless time,in endless space,
mirrors a halo above your head,
and as you dance in enlighten grace,
I vision a surreal goddess in silk and lace,
To hold you with a soft embrace,
and kiss you which warms my heart,
feeling a slight breeze across my face,
the promise we gave to never part,
because together,this is where we start.
Copyright © Gordon Wilmot | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Gordon Wilmot Poem
The haunting past which sits in my mind,
of that slow dark shadow,
floating across my wall as I try to sleep,
fearing of what it will do,
I freeze in my soul,
wanting to shout,for it might go away,
The attack is without pain,but of shock,
the man I've known since birth...why?
In my head,swirling past the thoughts,
of the touch easing it's way towards me,
the want to turn over for protection,
for concealment,but to no avail.
The tears,in silence is supressed,
not being heard and my soul aches,
many times before I've felt it,
when will it end?
the cold covers me as the warmth of the blanket falls away,
my heart stops,"I don't want to be touched",
my soul cries for help,oh God,help me,
the shadow touches like a nightmare,
I feel sweat building as I strain to keep my eyes shut,
it seems to last all night.
As sudden as it came,it floats away,
leaving in it's wake as I lay in fear,
the thought of committing suicide,
I wake in the morning wondering,
was it all a dream,a nightmare,or was it real,
the only thing I know,
is the memories,hate,and resentment that I feel.
Copyright © Gordon Wilmot | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Gordon Wilmot Poem
Looking down from starry eyes
into a world of floral and roses
the vision I find between the blades
as I walk through miles of Poppies and Orchids
of an extraordinary sight,
not lavished or intense but soft and sweet,
beyond dull and ordinary,
beyond picturesque dreams,
the further my steps travel
the more my vision becomes clear
with the sweet aroma of Petunias and Gladiolas,
that drives my senses near,
my starry eyes becomes captivated
through all that life can give,
nothing gives me the pleasure
of which I seek to find and hold,
from within the innocent flavor of love,
my eyes focus and sharpens
as the pleasure I seek comes near,
from within the collage of visual beauty
everything becomes colorless
when my eyes set upon
the pleasure which I sought...is you.
Copyright © Gordon Wilmot | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Gordon Wilmot Poem
The River is wide and unbearably cold,
beyond the tide under a winter blanket,
alone in it's own secret is stories of old,
empty with aged beauty to beset,
sits quietly unaccupied with unread mystery,
shrouded among ferns and pines sheltered alone,
protected from the cold winter frenzy.
Through ages past does her mystery roam,
surrounding her walls,deep thicken grass grew,
while the winds sweeps through howl and moan,
branches broken and hangs about strewn,
this obscure house naked and helpless amid the wood,
how vulnerable she is for the raw elements,
as the coyote and weasel come in search for food.
Nature's melody sounds it's horn,
sharing with all that evokes her presence,
and the river murmuring towards the sea,
as she gives us the sight within her essence,
comforts us with her strength and we feel safe,
while laying on the bank pondering past tense,
serenity,peace and the joy this sweet morn we face.
And again the green dense pines,
with moss clinging like slugs thickening,
leads the obscured path into chaos that binds,
and the raven devours a mice no longer living.
Above the pillars of the pines where an eagle soar,
the north wind howls as it blows,
and falling trees leans forward in a painful roar,
hidden within her lore lay secrets of long agos,
and emptiness settles quietly beneath the winter's score.
The vision strained by this distant sight,
descending from it's aerial height,
attracting to view a familiar scene,
of more importance to thy self gleam,
this distant object for thee to ensue,
but turning inward thy reflective view,
to enter within it's open door will persue.
Copyright © Gordon Wilmot | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Gordon Wilmot Poem
Chilled from the midnight cold,
as I stroll wrapped in cavalier,
wondering if the world has something to spare,
But life once was...
a beautiful pasifier we all use,
can you imagine us all in Rome,
with wine and necktor,
making love beneath the pillars,
and watching Gladiators,
and yet...home is where we sleep,
catching myths with nothing to keep.
And in the hour of darkness,
we whisper endless seas of laughter,
beckoning to others intent,
The interest dwindles as we get closer,
and the asumption we all give,
well-I guess I'm one in the same,
wading across the sand fading nowhere,
day dreaming and acting like fools,
do I feel strong,with you,incredibly,
beneath it all,I guess I can drink wine too,
while everyone is here and dither.
Though I disagree,
and the moonlight shifts,
watching within myself,
as the cob webs become rust,
and the rain falls free,
I find the corner an end to our trust,
feeling mahogany bordom in every eye I meet,
The Anthem of our Song,
embelishes us and we become indiscrete,
while the hopes of deliverance binds our hands,
and we all feel we are free.
Copyright © Gordon Wilmot | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Gordon Wilmot Poem
Touch me-
for I am real
Hold me-
I'm not fragile
Kiss me-
there are no screens
Look at me-
I am not shy
Listen-
and I will tell you
Lay down-
I can be trusted
Talk to me-
I will listen
Smile-
I'll buy you a flower
Cry-
I'll be your tower
Walk-
I love your style
Say I am real-
I'll say it's true
Say I am not fragile-
I will show you strenght
Say I have no screens-
I will reach for you
Say I am not shy-
I will smile
Say I will tell you-
I won't lie
Say I can be trusted-
I'll look into your eyes
Say that I listen-
We'll reach for the sky
Say I'll buy you a flower-
I will buy you another
Say I am your tower-
I won't fail you
Say I love your style-
I'll walk by your side
Say I am yours-
and I'll love you forever
Copyright © Gordon Wilmot | Year Posted 2010
|