I would like to be a writer. I began this site with amorous intentions, and over the course of time, I hope to have evolved as a male in an ever changing society that is today, recognizing the true beauty and elegance of woman. I am also into writing poetry. Come along for the ride.

Posts tagged “august

Waking Autumn


When I recall the quiet noise of morn

The days I pine, the darker eyes that loom

Ask less my mind, for when I in a gloom

It is the sky I seek to slow forlorn

 

The memory a haunt of sorrow found,

As lives we sow are asked to further go.

Beyond the real of the love we know

Is sunlight sure to welcome saner ground.

 

In between slats of home a golden air

Bemuse fear of letting go, losing her

For it is beautiful the morning stir

Of golden leaves – descend summer’s ware.

 

So when in the morning sun I wake alone

Her elegance in brilliant sky be shown.


In The Quiet of An August


I’m listening to some soft resonate

response to humanity,

when I wonder what it is I want to cry about.

 

I think about the events of the day,

a lost horizon,

an adjustment to being simple minded.

 

Now I wonder about a lot of little things,

so to pass the time,

a favored response to the greater good.

 

Yet there is always that occasional mind blown

revelation, an epiphany

starts our road like freshly laid asphalt.

 

There in the darkness I watched time,

and yet the morning sun still

shone like it managed every day of my life.

 

I wonder where it is I go, that leaves me

helpless in the space of time,

asking forgiveness and wandering alone.

 

I sometimes wait for letters that write a story,

sometimes just a glance,

and yet the time continues an autumn breeze.

 

I wonder if it might be true what she said,

too late, another life, not fair,

we can’t always want the same things together.

 

I know what love is today,

I’ve never felt such pain,

it is a beautiful thing –

 

My foot taps in a rhythmic motion,

the world seems to ignore,

the reality of my sadness forever more.

 

Oh to know the gentle caress of her touch,

is forever in my mind a scented

flower drawn by the artists’ of tomorrow.


A Silent Reckoning


Absolute stillness, a quiet,

has its own foreboding feel,

footsteps of an animal,

ever soft, nearby,

curious,

eyes will look, though concern,

only for affection.

 

Back to silence,

ticking in the distance,

soft notification,

an eternal reminder

how quickly august has arrived.

A person might smell the fear,

the unknown,

a wonder of purpose.

 

If there were a music,

to bring me somewhere,

I would choose its tantric

melody

to hide this anxiety,

though it is the will of the mind,

a trapping of this questionable

sanity.

 

Is it all artificial,

this world we live in,

everything man-made

without suggestion

of miracle,

divine intervention,

a thorough timeliness,

to a clear definition.

 

I wonder out loud,

a heavy gasp,

air traffic overhead,

I realize now just why,

sitting in the comfort of my home,

the restlessness does continue,

without offering a solution,

only further reason to …

sigh.