Tell me please

What is a poem?

What is poetry?

Who is a poet?

Having seen and dreamed so many things

From whispered lies

Anger to Lust

Betrayals celebrated

&

Love that is true

What is this dance

That leaves us in this trance

Of poetic daydreams

And shadowed seams?

 

A poet is the echo of the world,

who asks the shadow to dance,

Taking his hand and opening his eyes

to the world,

the poet blows bubbles,

filled with metaphor and simile,

that delight the mind

and thermal current send these

far and wide as the eye can see,

His pen never stops

the words make paintings

of rich color and texture

that never stop for sleep.

Shadows watch the poet

they are the beacon of light

in a dark world,

their words are

but trumpets,

for this dark age we live in

only the poets write the truth.

 

And what of the poet

That was lead down false paths

What of words given to a lie

When truth was searched for

Having been told the poets

Continue to write

The story

Of God

Never finished

What paintings shall be enshrined?

Which bubbles shall float forever?

Instead of bursting upon the dreams

What light from this pen

Shall brighten the shadows?

This pen

This heart

This soul

I give unto you

 

Because

And forever known

Through your touch

True love entwined

What dreams past?

Can last into now

How do I become,

A poet

Worthy of these words

And you?

 

But it was your words,

heard and treasured from afar

that drew me to the very essence of you.

They were a beacon light

a star shining down from highest

heavens

trails of effervescence

leading me to a soul

given to thinking thoughts

deeper than the shadows that surround

the common man.

I never expected

you to notice me or my words,

I quietly wrote

my meanderings of my heart,

for anyone who would listen.

Don’t put me on that pedestal

I am not Ms Browning,

or Suheir Hammad

whose words made people

listen…feel.... cry…

Maybe when we die

our books will line shelves

collecting dust

and some eclectic professor

will take five minutes

to speak of our feelings of a lifetime,

but now

let me just scribble

and laugh with me over coffee

and let our words write their own story.

 

 

Which words of mine

Drew you in?

The false songs of the siren

The evil that I had done?

Where was the light

In such darkness

But a candle hidden

Shining, burning

Waiting for you…
And I wish ever for

The light, the dawn, the moon, the sun, the stars

& more

That is you

Neither set me on a pedestal

For I was not shining down from on high

Nor ever was I

A true poet

Nor do I place you on a pedestal

For I see and feel what you are

The one I love

Who writes words far better than I

And she I searched for

While

Lost on the Electron Sea

For so many lost memories

Who I fear to lose

To the many that are better than I

Who come to wish you away

For I am a simple old man

Without much to offer to

She, you

Who I wish to hold onto

By the roaring waves

So she does not slip back forever
Stolen by the sea

Or simply, I just ever wish to touch…

It was your patience

The light in your love and eyes

During a time that I was blind

That drew me to you

Yet not ready

But sneaking by and gazing

Upon photos and words

Yours

Upon the screen

As I would wonder

Who is this she…

Yet that was before I let you in

And now that we have touched

It and you is all

I

Shall ever want to know…

&

I doubt my words will sit on any shelf

I told you where they fell in the past

Deaf ears of false lusts…

And now

In finding you

She I was really searching for

&

I ever wish

To be with

in each other’s arms

always

n

Forever

And the words of us shall be painted

By our presence

Souls

&

Touch

Kisses flavoured by the morning

Days and nights…

Into our eternity

Of one

That already ever was

And what is this our story

That we shall now write

 

Words of Dragons, Dreamscapes, And philosophy

drew me to the soul

whose hand outstretched

reaches in the darkest hours of the night,

Never was it evil,

and I was not concerned with the lustful eyes

that gazed upon you

coveting that love that they did not have,

it was misconnected,

undirected musings that went nowhere.

I waited

and would continue to wait

an eternity

for your hand in mine,

you were that Decadent Distraction

that Abstract Illusion

my pen alluded to long before your fingers

brushed trails down my spine,

If you are not a poet

then I throw my pen out the window

at 70 miles an hour down 275

letting ink fly as it may

a blot on the landscape

For these words will

dry up as unquenched desert

without you

never to find solace,

never to find structure.

For then

my words wont be the same

my muse

without you,

Even now,

I am waking feeling despondent,

like pieces of the atmosphere have misaligned

absently watching birds fighting over territory

and geckos,

doing their true dance across

temperate earth… not with coat and tie

wishing to sell me insurance,

they eye me

knowing I sit and wait

for my words to somehow

drift away,

someone to catch them in their bottle

and hold them.

 

Be not despondent

Our time shall come

When we awake every day

In each other’s arms…

I will be your poet

For to others I may not be one

&

Patience still

Until the fates

Place us where

Our home shall be

Change is on the winds

Within my life

These winds

Shall guide me

To you…

You

As my words misplaced

Where of my search

For this, for us

Here upon the earth

And forever beyond

Patience

As the jays scold

And the geckos dance

They prance for you

My

Angel of the Sea

No drifting away

You

or

Your words

I wish to catch them

Hold them…

As I wish to with you heart

Your flesh

Your mind

Your soul…

Patience and hold on

The day will come

When we stand before God

And the universe

And say

I do….

 

I love you

Do not let the wait

Until then

Tears us

Or words apart…

 

Our love shall be

Forever…

 

So let not your words drift away

Upon errant winds

Or currents of the sea…

But seal them with a kiss

Upon our eternal wedding day…

 

~ Kirk And Diana 11 July, 2009

of all the poets Ive written with, my heart is forever his.