
There are people I have designed a quiet life around
their inspiration carries intrigue by which I am bound.
Though one might imagine, I am not inside the same
outside there seems the human condition is a game.
I live a fantasy trying in desperation to be the person I am
I struggle to witness this ‘be’ suggestion is less of a sham.
Speak sweet serenity
it is the truth,
it is the compassion
of the one I love.
One time on a summer day I discovered the beauty of her
walked into my life she did, at first my hesitation was sure
One day she smiled in commentary to our initial dialogue
as time might pass I did imagine a letter in a distant fog.
So surreal a moment when love speaks our own silent rhythm,
we would, maybe, we might, perhaps blame it on an algorithm
Speak sweet serenity
it is the truth,
it is the compassion
of the one I love.
Would that words become the bridge toward certain freedom
that which might allow the beauty of elegance a diadem,
As Emily would speak, her words would describe her world,
in the quiet refuge a privacy, she did in life’s confusion twirled.
Oh to know the power of words would find the truth we desire
without fear, trepidation, simply a humble plea ignite our fire.
Speak sweet serenity
it is the truth,
it is the compassion
of the one I love.
© Scott F Savage 5/2020
the ‘b’ series
Oh if I might know the passion we feel
when in each wakeful moment
my yearn could become ever so real,
yet truth would be our only lament.
~
Cast her doubts upon a wintry night,
when in silence her heart would still
this sensuality a blaze in passion’s light
could wish truth allow such is a will.
He that would, did, and will protest
hers a lessening fire of sweet remember
at least in the logic of time could suggest
for eyes did lie would feel less this ember.
If when now arctic glaze in Nature is a chill
would that my heart melt in her arms until.
© Scott F Savage 2/2020
Always the birds, waking a restless soul,
this morning, their resonate voices scold
my broken heart, tossed aside, helpless,
I listened for awhile, cries were seamless.
Inside the mind we travel in abandon
sometimes a preoccupied pattern
of dismissal, denial, misbegotten fortune
when waiting patient in some setting sun.
A historic fire* occurred today, our world
shattered by the reality of dreams unfurled.
There would be tears in the embers
shattering the lives of nearby flowers.
Have faith in the goodness of our lives
There is where beauty in time still thrives
*Notre Dame – 4/15/2019
‘Yes’
we swore
a profanity a
fiery onslaught
in harmony
a pact
we felt a vicious
passion indeed
let ne’er our love
Might
fade yet fire
reduce themselves
embers
if thoughtful breeze
turn to sudden
impassioned
loss
Telling my story while on my healing journey
They're mine, and yours 'cause our voice got lost somewhere in between. Welcome home...
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A little bit of me, with a little bit of you. A little of the old mixed with the new. A little too loud, a little too shy. A little grounded and a little high. A little bit of sad and a little bit of laugh. A little bit of evrything i carry in my heart. This is my blog that highlights other works, for my poems and musings please follow me on http://myshellecongeries.wordpress.com/