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Charles Fuller Poem
So still and beautiful lays the rose in the heather,
Lifeless and dying, given to bring you happiness,
So fragile is this rose laying in heather,
Slowly withering and drying, crumbling to a powder,
I look at you and see this rose ever fading,
Once growing, living, accenting its surroundings,
But now gone, plucked from the bush by one mans lust,
I could never compare you to this rose laying in the heather,
For your beauty surpasses its own,
So still and beautiful lays this rose in the heather,
Now dried cracking and dead, stored in a book to bring memories,
So weak and faded is this rose in yellowing heather,
Slowly falling apart as you touch the fragile petals,
I look at you and remember the flower when it faded,
That germinated and grew where I had sown its seed,
Now gone, plucked from the ground by one mans hope,
I would never compare you to this old heather and roses,
For its life was surpassed by yours,
Now I tell you I love you with cellophaned roses in heather,
Draining lifeless this dying confession of my dreaming,
This rose is more fragile then the first had I gave you,
But I could’t approach, my courage eroding at your sight,
I look at you now and see the love I sought inward,
Once alive and growing but only within lost confines of myself,
But never quite gone I hold this consuming fire close inside,
I could never combine your world with mine,
You always looked passed never noticing me,
Now I open my book that holds the first rose, wishing I gave it for the sake of
chance,
Instead I hold a created memory that never came passing,
That never could I fear,
I hold tight to the lie that through wonted silence I painted,
But that chance for your love died with the first rose wrapped in heather.
Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2006
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Charles Fuller Poem
Somewhere in midnight’s nocturnal hallways
As the chill settles down with starlight
While the world stands silent in waiting
There abiding with his flock walks the shepherd
Hopeful in thought and yet weary of foot
He moves his charges through the bite of night
His hope in the coming dawn lifts his burdens
Filling his minds eye with warm musings of tomorrow
In tones they beseech the day and challenge darkness
But through this constant cycle of shine and shadow
The guardian of the flock stands steadfast and waits
The promise begins as His voice appears cherubically
Falling in fear and praying for strength of faith
The radiance in the sky softens ever slightly
Speaking of the vow and announcing the messiah
Who brings the world a love and a hope yet tasted
Tremulous breath’s as the promise is spoken
Awing the greatness with a loving and respectful fear
Silent in belief beholding the coming miracle
He stirs the somnolent flock down the slopes
To bestow upon all the gift of this divine hour
His breath brittle’s the final icy moments of dusk
He labors the trail with renewed strength of heart
Proclaiming hushed gratitude within every step
A beacon of brilliance converges in the heavens
Beckoning his faithful west toward little Bethlehem
Dropping to his knees his face wetted in thanks
Finally understanding what is gripping his soul
He sees the precarious pathway laid before him
Though he has journeyed into the unknown before
None had brought with it a promise so precious
Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2007
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Charles Fuller Poem
I never talk to you as much as I should
Just to say thank you for all of your gifts
I take for granted all that you’ve given to me
Sometimes blaming you for all I have missed
And when you come to me I shy away
Feigning I can’t see you or hear you
But no matter where I look you’re around me
In every vivid color and shape of movement
You voice beckoning in all the worldly sounds
I even try to hide myself away from you
Still you find me wherever I go without effort
Cruel and hard or ignorant and fleeting
I’ve been both and you lovingly embrace me
Cursing you at the losses washed upon me
Your hand generously gives without prejudice
Gluttonously taking much more than my fill
When I look back you’ve again filled my cup
All the mistakes I have made and will make
Many of them knowingly and willingly
Still you offer all of your forgiveness
If only I will ask as a son should his father
I’ve broken so many of your rules a multitude of times
Deceiving myself believing you wouldn’t notice
Still you offer me everything you have
When I lay in the dark at night and examine
I hope and fear you and I doubt and pray
I hope you can hear me through all the other voices
Although I fear you don’t listen to me anymore
I force myself to doubt your existence
Knowing the truth unwilling to admit to it
I pray…Dear God…Can you hear me?
Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2006
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Charles Fuller Poem
Rainfall washing
Light splashes on windowpane…
Leaving nothing behind
No pattern or trace…
If only those tears
Anguishly wept for you…
Upon your deathbed
Had washed away…
Cleansing the pain
That even now abrades my spirit…
Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2008
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Charles Fuller Poem
Those old memories crash
Like frenzied hurricane waves
Upon our sand and stone beach
Our sacred moment
Where innocent love blossomed
We cast our childhood into the sea
That sweet July night beckons
Two pure spirits from their haven
Phantom lovers illumed before me
Awash in newborn love’s passion
I buried a coal stone in the sands
Promising you diamonds at nightfall
Laughing you covered every stone
In that moment I truly found myself
Under the summer moon I held you
Gifting you the gems alight in the skies
Embracing the lovers faded leaving a kiss
On the spot where I laid it so long ago
…So I could return to you
Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2007
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Charles Fuller Poem
The walls have fallen and the grounds overgrown,
If you’d never been here you might never have known,
The stair that lead nowhere from the cracked ocean deck,
With the waves of the hurricane slowly it’s swept,
The light from her windows once lit up the Atlantic,
From all over they came for that weekend romantic,
To take long evening walks on a moon water beach,
While the laughter spills out and the music would reach,
Stirred in with the breeze creating crisp melodic sound,
In the flash of an instant discover paradise found,
For here moments were shared and each one becomes,
The memories of time in which we’re forever young,
A place to rekindle that once adolescent desire,
Here the poets retreated to compose and inspire,
Now these few crumbling walls are all that remain,
From a night of disaster that devoured in flame,
Now the patrons return their memories cupped in hand,
Hearing ballads of wave from the sea’s ethereal band,
I saw them closing their eyes once again hearing those tunes,
Traveling back to their youth…as they dance in the ruins
Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2007
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Charles Fuller Poem
She is the whispering of the bluest waters
Standing in the stillness she calls to me
Within the sounds of the coursing river
I feel the ease of her comfort washing over me
Consumed by her soft flowing siren song
Cascading down the mountains banks
Waltzing in the descending whitewater
Coming to rest in a cooled pool of her caress
Illumed depths tepid in the evening sun
Enhanced of her life and ardor
Swimming free
Drinking her intoxicating breath exhaling out
My love is the river of azure water
Ever carrying me onward she moves
Whispering…
Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2007
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Charles Fuller Poem
Thundering down Olympus
Treads Ares
The battle master
Ashen
Piceous clad
Against midnights cloak
Returning human spirit
To the heavens
For upon drowning
Within his crimson gaze
Do we understand
That in faith
Lies divinity
Note: In Greek mythology Ares is the God of War.
Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2007
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Charles Fuller Poem
High on the Normandy cliffs
Looking out over Pointe du Hoc
As cold Atlantic winds whisper out
The names of the brothers I left behind
Now only fine marble monument shadows
Dot the trenches and empty emplacements
As the final testimony of the fallen
Still ringing frightened with those desperate voices
Proclaiming both their lives and death
That they were ever here…
In the emerald hills of Collville Sur Mur
I can still hear the phantom naval shells screaming
Underneath the crying of men
Pulverized and dying in their comrades arms
All for the belief of the land from which they hail
While the roaring waves wash the still bloody sands
In and endless and rending cycle
That silent cacophony of brother and foe
Call out to me still for comfort and aid
Asking only to be remembered…
Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2008
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Charles Fuller Poem
A beauty of the finest splendor…captivating
Seizing the rooms attention on the inhale
Now a shrinking shell of her former self
Caught in a chemical coma to ease her pain
Murmuring fate in silences void…foreboding
Her eyes not seeing the milieu’s approach
Those illusory walls protection now ravaged
She stands naked before bereavements eyes
As the nights pass I sit at her bedside…steady
No corollary thought as the clock keeps pace
I allay the fear by a whisper looking for lucidity
While her random gasps for life squeeze within me
Soft regrets for the misery I’ve caused…repentant
Adrift in the words I bellowed in toxic anger
Yearning to drink of the venom washed over you
To share one moment in the clarity of forgiveness
The scent of a spring dawn’s beauty fills the air…mocking
Stroking your hair I stutter out my final goodbye
Ready to be chained to the morose you absolve me
Taking with you my weighted anguish with simple words
Mom opened her eyes one last time and said…I love you too…
Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2007
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