I thought about
my birthday,
as selfish that seems
to echo soft loss.
Suddenly
a time became
a quiet embrace
only nearby.
Imagine
my surprise
to know there is
a voice of compassion.
She delights
in her Elizabethan way
the simple elegance
of a clever reprise.
Settle in he thought
clearly
drawn into space,
a silent ruse.
She’s out there
his smile
her eyes
suddenly, he knew.
If when asked
would that change
the outcome
in a lost love
that feeling of
emotional abandom
the human condition
puts itself through
when standing at the apex
we see in the distant horizon
an answer
we might rather avoid,
like choosing that trail home,
yet instead going back in,
the forest our respite,
the wood our foundation,
a place to hang our book bag
and feel the soft moss
on the back of our head,
leaning back
sitting upon the soil
on our favorite piece of bark,
a living reality
stretching the sky,
makes our lives seem so
so vulnerable to letting go,
the self-pity aside,
there is this world about us,
we haven’t really walked that far
yet.
A quiet memory
nature is a splendor
memory attached
a quiet moon.
Sweet moisture
night dew
creates soft droplets
on an isolated bench.
We sat for hours
the cool feeling
on our naked thighs.
We laughed
hugged
smiled
kissed
felt our passion
light up in the night sky,
a hunter’s moon.
 | a quiet man on Haiku Love |
 | Yernasia Quorelios on Haiku Love |
| a quiet man on I Took A Walk |
 | Priti on I Took A Walk |
| Priti on I Took A Walk |
Turning trauma into triumph since 1981.
Sometimes writing poems let's me forget about the huge sums of debt I'm accumulating while at college
"I feel the rush of your love through my entirety and I know in this very moment of my existence this is where I belong" - The Creative Chic
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Concerning All Types Of Relationships
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