April | 2021 | apersonaljourney

Monthly Archives: April 2021
- No Games
  
  Posted at 6:27 pm by a quiet man, on April 27, 2021
  I don’t know the rules
  
  won’t be one of those fools.
  
  Step lightly
  
  escape
  
  inside a somber silence,
  
  though we stroll away
  
  we wear a fashion
  
  of our soul
  
  inside the magic,
  
  letting go.
  
  ~
  
  I once did grasp the play
  
  a fantasy against the odds still
  
  willing a risk
  
  inside the silence of a dream.
  
  I could feel a sweet Grace, hers,
  
  alive, it will redeem,
  
  might forever seem
  
  one step ahead
  
  – dying to signify some solace –
  
  would that my heart
  
  ever hold a goodness
  
  lost in, when, did, eternal confidence,
  
  decisive us,
  
  unraveling our reckoning.
  
  ~
  
  Would that soft simplicity be dealt
  
  such while the hands of love we felt.
  
  ©️Scott F Savage 4/2021
  
  (happy birthday z)
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  Posted in poetry, the 'be' series, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged happy birthday, heart, Life, love, poetry, soul, writer, z
- In Moonlight
  
  Posted at 1:42 am by a quiet man, on April 27, 2021
  We always did laugh
  
  in the light of the moon
  
  in full radiance
  
  it does speak of a time
  
  when a rise on the horizon
  
  once a gift to me
  
  your heart compelled
  
  draw my eyes to the rising moon
  
  that crisp autumn night
  
  when the chill could go away
  
  knowing your arms would cradle
  
  me in soft soul reaching love.
  
  ~
  
  Tonight the moon hides behind a shroud
  
  though it holds promise this being your day.
  
  ©️ Scott F Savage 4/2021
  
  (happy birthday z)
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  Posted in poetry, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged full moon, happy birthday, nostalgia, poetry, writer, z
- For You
  
  Posted at 12:18 am by a quiet man, on April 26, 2021
  When wonders would wise
  
  our hearts could play with a fire
  
  stoked within your grasp
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  Posted in haiku, poetry, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged birthday, haiku, poetry, sadness, truth, writer, z
- Night Watchman
  
  Posted at 3:33 am by a quiet man, on April 25, 2021
  He’s the one sitting alone
  
  park bench corner of the street
  
  the dew already wrapping around
  
  naked thighs,
  
  summertime,
  
  bartime,
  
  and he’s the guy hoping someone
  
  might help him with his rounds
  
  a beautiful summer night
  
  a few too many rounds,
  
  a moment of despair,
  
  will surely turn into hours,
  
  yet tonight
  
  somehow he believes
  
  all the silent eyes
  
  pass him by in their own automobiles
  
  are wondering just why
  
  it’s 3 am and this guy is in the middle of the night
  
  watching the headlights stream by,
  
  wondering if anyone can notice
  
  anymore.
  
  © Scott F Savage 4/2021
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  Posted in poetry, the 'be' series, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged alcohol, bartime, drinking, headlights, loneliness, outside, people, poetry, summertime, writer
- No Want For Sleep
  
  Posted at 1:11 am by a quiet man, on April 23, 2021
  Many nights finally hear,
  
  well not as sudden as me knowing
  
  time is only
  
  a quiet serenade
  
  melodic our morality
  
  begins a journey toward, man is servitude.
  
  I’m Cristian, well are you and yes
  
  together this penchant for a higher
  
  exultation
  
  speaks to every believer
  
  no matter the indoctrinate
  
  nature of meaning.
  
  We are silent reminders … compassion
  
  drives a soul in meaning.
  
  ©️ Scott F Savage 4/2021
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  Posted in poetry, the 'be' series, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged love, Passion, poetry, time, writer, z
- Night Dreams
  
  Posted at 6:08 pm by a quiet man, on April 21, 2021
  Wake to a memory
  
  we do travel in our mind
  
  even that familiar sound,
  
  song,
  
  sunlight blends when once
  
  I would wake
  
  only to hear you in my mind.
  
  ~
  
  Always anxious to feel her lips
  
  reaching mine
  
  forbidden
  
  alone would we recall
  
  sensation
  
  wishful dreams.
  
  ~
  
  Yet tonight I do wait
  
  always willing the risk
  
  a want to love
  
  to love you
  
  to let a ‘Tuesday Afternoon’
  
  would bring her home,
  
  this world
  
  never our own
  
  yet sweet dreams
  
  in a wistful breeze.
  
  ©️Scott F Savage 4/2021
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  Posted in poetry, the 'be' series, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged dreams, embrace, love, memory, poetry, time, touch, writer, z
- Still Crazy to Imagine
  
  Posted at 5:47 am by a quiet man, on April 17, 2021
  We wonder sometimes
  
  My perception and yours
  
  how different
  
  we miss seeing
  
  or we are
  
  or would wish to be
  
  or want to be remembered
  
  as a person we once knew
  
  in ourselves
  
  together
  
  yet now how different we are
  
  still so very much
  
  the same.
  
  Love has a way of twisting our minds
  
  in such a manner
  
  we can’t ever really go back
  
  whom we might then be
  
  once idealized to be
  
  ourselves.
  
  ©️Scott F Savage 4/2021
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  Posted in poetry | 0 Comments
- Wild Abandon
  
  Posted at 1:04 pm by a quiet man, on April 12, 2021
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  Posted in poetry | 0 Comments
- Silence is Wisdom
  
  Posted at 12:08 am by a quiet man, on April 4, 2021
  That passage to the other side
  
  where our lives return
  
  within ourselves
  
  some secret symbiotic serenade
  
  a dance we would leave
  
  alone
  
  while others deliberate
  
  emphasizing a final syllable
  
  speaks only that gesture we call
  
  hope.
  
  The other might survive as would
  
  themselves
  
  that nature of, we often call
  
  the will to live beyond our
  
  fantasy.
  
  I remember a time
  
  this struggle in my mind
  
  to answer my own fear
  
  with salutary praise,
  
  you’d touch my heart he spoke
  
  a silent reverie.
  
  what would happen he thought
  
  if the word he believed
  
  might emanate from his lips.
  
  How might she respond … an expression, spoken
  
  love.
  
  ©️ Scott F Savage 4/3021
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  Posted in poetry, the 'be' series, writing | 1 Comment | Tagged fantasy, love, poetry, reality, words, writer
- Too Much
  
  Posted at 5:53 pm by a quiet man, on April 1, 2021
  I remember these well
  
  the quiet peace of her affection
  
  a scent of passion always near
  
  I would bask in her love
  
  too much.
  
  I would walk in love
  
  a silent reality kept at bay,
  
  for we would wouldn’t we
  
  know peace in our lives
  
  too much.
  
  why two people might
  
  so easily sacrifice their lives
  
  after years of knowing passion
  
  did well our own eyes
  
  too much.
  
  A certain wonder of what this is, could
  
  be, that compassion we may always see.
  
  ©️Scott F Savage 4/2021
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  Posted in poetry, the 'be' series, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged love, places, poetry, walks, writer, z
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