Posted in Poetry is crimson, tagged poems, poetry on April 11, 2009| 1 Comment »
I told thee once
thou wouldst never lose me,
I would stand by thee for ever,
I would accept whatever thou desired
even if it be those cold words thou gavest me.
I told thee once
thou were so very special
like that rare perfect blue diamond
whose shining splendour dazes the admiring eyes.
Fare thee well, my friend.
I told thee once thou would never lose me
unless thou wanted me out of thy life.
Posted in Poetry is crimson, tagged poems, poetry on January 12, 2009| Leave a Comment »
In the virtual reality of virtuality surreal is considered a bore
While normal is mundane and mendacity slimes in through an unopened door
From ivory towers so blind to living a life dank and black
And taking the time to be kind considered a sign to attack
In the realm of the righteous respect is reserved for religion and rules
With vitality defined as profanity and consigned to be lived by mere fools
Now listen to me will you master or mister or missus or miss
We all have our own little mysteries to master before our last kiss
If you do what you do to just you and leave me and mine to just us
Then all may enjoy their own journey and not waste our time making fuss
Posted in Poetry is crimson, tagged For Robert, poems, poetry, verses, whenever I may find him. on September 24, 2008| 13 Comments »
I long for the day
when those cinder clouds
that veil your brilliant eyes
return no more.
I long for the night
when those savage storms
that darken your pupils
return no more.
I long for the day
when those sombre shadows
that obscure your gaze
return no more.
I long for the night
when those grim grey ghosts
that shade your mind
return no more.
I live for the time
when into the deep blue pools of your eyes
I will lose my soul
once more.
For Robert, whenever I may find him.
Posted in My people and other animals., Poetry is crimson, tagged bluebird, child, poetry on July 7, 2008| 10 Comments »
Dedicated to my little daughter, Juliet.
My little bluebird
Testing your wings.
There was a time
when you would stay,
when you were mine.
When I was your world,
When there was no one
but me by your side.
When you were my world.
Now you are flying
laughing and free.
You are smiling
with joy in those eyes
that no longer need
to look into mine.
Fly away, my little bluebird.
.
……………………………………….Free.
.
Written for the Bluebird Challenge, http://midwestpoet.wordpress.com
Posted in Poetry is crimson, tagged Poem, poetry, poets, verse on June 18, 2008| 1 Comment »
When I kiss you on your cheek I touch you on your other cheek
Then while I kiss you on your lips I whisper of your other lips
And as I kiss you on your tongue tip you taste me with your other tongue
So that if I kiss you on your mouth your other mouth moans I lust you
.
Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, The Favourite Poet
Posted in Poetry is crimson, tagged poems, poetry, verses on June 6, 2008| 7 Comments »
I wake up at six
wishing
for a reversal of time.
I close my eyes
slipping
peacefully into a silent mist.
My mind still bent
on chasing
slowly vanishing visions,
sailing
on fantasies in shades of grey,
resisting
misty reveries
precious silvery slumbers
Volatile dreams flutter
seeking
to clarify my drowsy mind.
….
.
..
Written for the “Jigsaw Poem” project.Posted in Poetry is crimson, tagged poems, poetry, verses on June 3, 2008| 5 Comments »
Gale bent branches lash
not quite shattering windows
to a volatile soul
where my precious passes
our winter reading in silent hope
as a flutter in each shadowed
longed for fantasy clashes
with short term reality clarifying
that after each and every reversal
peace will reclaim our time
.
Originally from Ideas Exchange.
This poem was written for the “Jigsaw Poem” project.
Posted in Poetry is crimson, Travels with my trainers., tagged architecture, Art, old temples, poetry on May 26, 2008| 9 Comments »
I once stood for hours
Looking at the ravaged symmetry
Of the broken marble pillars
Of the Parthenon. White, tall ruins
Weathered yet proud.
Someone said:
What do you see in old stones?
.
Eternity.
Thanks, B.
Posted in Poetry is crimson, tagged Granada, poems, poetry, romance on May 14, 2008| 3 Comments »
Allí fabló un moro viejo, — de esta manera fablara:
—¿Para qué nos llamas, rey, — para qué es esta llamada?
—¡Ay de mi Alhama!—
—Habéis de saber, amigos, — una nueva desdichada:
que cristianos de braveza — ya nos han ganado Alhama.
—¡Ay de mi Alhama!—
Allí fabló un alfaquí — de barba crecida y cana:
—Bien se te emplea, buen rey, — buen rey, bien se te empleara.
—¡Ay de mi Alhama!—
Mataste los Bencerrajes, — que eran la flor de Granada,
cogiste los tornadizos — de Córdoba la nombrada.
—¡Ay de mi Alhama!—
Por eso mereces, rey, — una pena muy doblada:
que te pierdas tú y el reino, — y aquí se pierda Granada.
—¡Ay de mi Alhama!—
Romance de la pérdida de Alhama, anonymous XVth century
Posted in Poetry is crimson, tagged Art, poems, poetry on May 11, 2008| 1 Comment »
Our ideas feature
words paint pictures
life as art
Still life
There is nothing
more or less inspiring
than peach like hips
and a pair of breasts
Still life in a niche, Frans Snijders
Sleeping bather, Pierre Auguste Renoir
the jumble blog 