Wanting

A sinking feeling remains

the cold breeze of autumn return

whereby with streaking skies

the accent of winter will loom

gives a romantic flair

to a sunny afternoon.

 

Yet now the night,

the breeze turns slowly to a chill

the response to events

yet offering remedy at stake,

the craft of attraction

brought to a silent halt.

 

What we know today

feels like a lean upon slippery

rocks in a natural pull of gravity

seeking peace

yet lowering our sad yes

to find the chasm scream below.

 

We are the least important value

when a solemn regret is our scheme.


 

~ just finding my way, a personal journey ~

Occasional Fantasy

Those moments

when gasps accelerate

the notion of passion that

coveted imagination

allows the mind to travel

inside the fantasy

of sweet alluring desire,

the idea of release,

a wanton wish

to travel inside her world

while she might indeed wrap

her own lips around

his select posture,

the two then lost inside

one another,

gathering storm

whereby the reality of a certain

soul-framing outcome

would match the ache

our hearts feel

when alone.


~ just finding my way, a personal journey ~

This Way, Every Day, We Fall Away


If a sun might rise in wistful autumn

might the blazing maple speak a sonnet.

For when hue shining spectacular let

sweet mind visit simple love is solemn.

 

Wake readily would human condition

in accentuate disclosure in fall

moments leading toward his callous gall

wanting her redeeming peace a notion.

 

Ardent leaves breaking free will symbolize

a passing, swift as a breeze will carry

forward important energy, tarry

none will be argument for we the wise.

 

Is love is meant is time is not we cease,

Whisper sweet we descend to soil in peace

– for Zelda

 

~ just finding my way, a personal journey ~

For She Would Wonder

IMG_0213.jpg

For she would wonder, she might

a posture in elegance, a wander

in speculation,

an anxiety seldom revealed

yet in a quiet posture,

still the serene loveliness of

a woman in pose.

 

Oh to know such beauty,

this man did wild

in her arms become beyond

himself, she did

give him trials of delight

that would shape his being,

 

… and now he is left in fragments

always to hold fast to a memory,

a surreal landscape

with the lines of such is

the outline of only

her abundance in showing

the world

her still life

would be his forever

longing.


Alberto Giacometti – Swiss 1901 – 1966

Annette 1950

The William S. Paley Collection

-for Zelda-

©ta 2018

 

~just finding my way, a personal journey~

Inside the Certainty of Love

That spectacular feeling,

an emotion screaming to be heard,

the lights flashing, sparkling, an imagined

atmosphere of unrestrained ego,

every aspect of the body is content

in realizing this is me,

this is you, us, we are,

and yet where we were, we are now,

when everything that matters,

becomes just this!

 

… until …

 

The fracture,

the question, the analysis, the coveted

‘whom am I in your eyes’

becomes far more important than simply

the beautiful being that she was

and always

will

be inside my own eyes.

 

Tears fall as eloquently upon my breast

as do perhaps the words I choose

to describe this one,

so surreal in the atmosphere of understanding

just how does the human condition

play a role

in allowing our lives to gain

trust

inside the spectrum of another’s eyes,

no matter the circumstance,

there will always be that one time,

when I did

and forever now, when passing memory

I will … forever, love you

 

~just finding my way, a personal journey~

When People Become Mean

There is no stopping the onslaught,

the defense unravel,

the mind believes,

anyone standing nearby is a toss-away

a forgotten

here to stay.

 

When people become mean,

we cannot ever imagine that to be

their true intent

we can only ride the crest

of confusion

of truths

of the measure of sadness

 

Oh, to be in a world where dreams do come true,

where the simple reality

of finding one another

inside each other’s eyes

is well enough

long beyond the analysis

of why this is real,

or convince myself that it is fake.

 

These tears now,

they want to pour,

they will not be held back,

because if restrained

then the emotion will remain,

and how can we possibly live with ourselves

when told we are

someone we always believed

we were not.

 

When people become mean,

their hearts find atrophy is forever.

 

~just finding my way, a personal journey~