Poetry on Love and Happiness

A flame beckons.

It draws us with an alluring flicker,
a living, reaching, vibrant point
of liquid light.

It beckons

And moves and writhes and dies and then reforms.
It warms, it comforts, it illuminates
our darkened homes and even darker minds.
It takes, consumes, and destroys with
raging intensity, a fascinating and beautiful inferno.

It beckons.

Never the same, shifting and flowing,
promising serenity or pain.
We talk about it as a trick of chemistry,
an abstract concept composed of molecules and energy
and pretend we control it.
But it has its own mind, and when we’re alone,
gazing and gloating over a stub of candle,

It beckons to us.

Observations
4/1/98

Ice

The car slides sideways
in a frozen moment.
And then it stops,
the moment ends,
and life goes on.

 
In a Busy Mall

A wooden bench provides
the perfect place
to watch the passing people.
They look so serious, with their
precious packages, but their faces
are alive with subtle changes,
unconscious works of art.

In a Hail Storm

The white stones fell, carpeting the ground
to the frantic pounding of the drummer on the roof.
And I watched the fury of nature with a smile as I
realized just how small we are.

In the Garden Department

The smell of the earth,
solid and comforting and alive,
made me pause, and close my eyes
and breathe deeply,
And I forgot, if only for a moment,
that I was in a department store
with my pretty purchases.

The Unnamed One
2/14/97

The ocean tides caress the shore
As the Unnamed One glides the sand,
Eros-blessed and sculptor-adored,
Helen in a languished land.

The gods themselves had brought her forth,
A rose of ever unmatched measure,
They asked of all to offer her
The greatest of their endless treasures.

"I’ll maker her skin so perfect pale,"
The Moon declared with gleaming grace.
The Sun said "I shall place a smile
Of radiance on her flawless face."

"Her lustrous hair shall take our hue,"
called Strawberries from their lowly patch.
"And her luminous eyes shall be sea-blue,"
The endless Ocean called to match.

"Her graceful form is our realm,"
Swans whispered from the greying mist.
And the buzzing bees, "Like our honey sweet,
Her lips meant to be softly kissed."

"Her gentle nature, Hestia-born,"
Winds murmured like the unseen breeze.
"And beauty," called the Earth itself,
"that always brings men to their knees."

The ocean tides caress the shore,
As the Unnamed One walks the sand,
Worshiped as the jewel she is,
By every man in that languished land.

Within a palace, long ago,
Above the mountains draped in snow,
Among the clouds that held it so
That gods could sit and watch men grow,

Inside a room of endless day,
Upon a velvet cushion lay
A precious gem, a brilliant ray
Of sunlight caught in some strange way,

So that it sparkled with a light
From deep within, a star so bright
It drove away the darkest night,
Illuminated those who might,

With rapt attention, on it gaze,
And try to keep its brilliant rays.
A crystal rose of gorgeous greys
and greens and reds and summer days,

It was a gift the gods had saved,
A gem they knew that men would crave.
To hold it, dangers they would brave,
And follow it into their graves.

So held away from mortal eyes
The rose was kept, despite men’s cries,
Until, like some forbidden prize,
A mortal stole it from the skies.

How he found it, no one knows,
But climbing past the rocks and snows
And clouds and winds that ‘round it blows,
With shaking hands he grasped the rose.

Within his heart emotions soared,
And joyous music ‘round him roared,
His feelings, never felt before,
Said this was meant to be adored.

Back down to earth, with gem in hand,
And through the swamps and shifting sand,
He showed the rose in many lands,
And men adored this gift so grand.

Until the gods, who saw the plight
Of men they knew would quickly fight
O’er such a perfect, radiant light,
Transformed the rose one summer night.

It kept its bright, eternal flame,
The radiant beauty of its name,
The gorgeous gleam no gem could claim,
And grace that put the swan to shame.

No longer was she crystal cold,
But flesh and blood, the one foretold
In fevered dreams of gleaming gold.
She stood with brilliant beauty bold,

An image of perfection, she,
A woman who exquisitely
Arose from crystal rose to see,
A world that loved her totally.

And there are those who like to say
That princess walks the world today,
She’s seen from time to time, they claim.
I hope one day to know her name.

You
12/17/98

The cold night wrapped in brilliant snow
And draped in icy tears
Can chill the heart and freeze the soul;
But not when you are near.

The desert winds and blaring sun
And sands that carve like blades
Can sting the eyes and burn the skin;
But you provide the shade.

The wild garden’s poisoned thorns
Are savage, sharp, and grim.
Fiercely choking life without
But not your rose within.

The bitter sea that drinks of lives
And takes the captain’s wealth
Can drag me down into the depths’
But you can grant me health.

The stars within their crystal spheres
And galaxies so grand,
Can make me feel so small and weak,
Until you touch my hand.

I wander through the dreary dark,
A fool in endless night,
I cannot see the way ahead,
But you restore my sight.

The dark psychosis in my mind
That clouds reality
Has trapped me in an insane web,
But you can set me free.

When bloody wars around me surge
And men and poets die,
I stand in sadness, future bleak;
You help me learn to cry.