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. My words and notions will I hope respond in poetic verse of many genre and style. Come along and please share your ideas and insights. Thank you for your visit.

Posts tagged “quiet

Love Now


love now

For now I wish an eternity
might include
her spiritual ancestry
so we two
would know
the stars we do so
observe in distant horizon
contain the same
passions
we know exist
in one another’s arms

for now
I am alone
seeking an enchantment
only her sweet demeanor
will provide

for now
I am only in love
lonely in love
I’m in love
in a quiet solace


Certain Quiet


There are certain quiet

the touching eulogy

in pause

a responsive memory

with cause

some avenue of chance

might free the mind

a glance

then afterward

a certain quiet

remind perhaps,

that simple reason

does give solace

when being together

means the passing moon.


In This Moment


I settle in to a memory,

it holds faith,

for all the quiet reflection,

when eyes would look far ahead,

see a sunrise within the rains,

those were the moments,

while she would caress my soul,

I might find her smile,

the sweetest reflection of love.

 

There is a sometime pause,

when we suddenly become

silent in our awareness,

we find measure,

we choose decisive choice,

in an effort to recognize

her elegance,

I chose to fall into visible arms.

 

Today, when eyes met,

there was this eternal peace,

we knew,

she knows,

I believe,

and together our lives,

will hold onto these rare times,

when love,

can speak in actual terms.


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.


Walking In Doors


There is a certain beauty in seeing

her walk through doors,

it is when in the sky looming gray,

her light will shine,

I cannot know how to make her smile,

just hope she might,

because there inside then,

I might believe,

the truth to love can exist,

inside her quiet world,

that place where no one seems to enter,

unless it is of course, a time when her heart,

might allow itself to breathe,

allow its elegance, her compassion,

the soul for which my body yearns,

it is there in the quiet of her peace,

there I wish to see her delight in the solace.


What Cannot Be Designed


An answer, when the silence looms,

we cannot determine an outcome,

though we might easily …

It is surely a known tension to become

our central focus,

when we are unable to find

any solution to the question in our mind.

 

I can only wish, she might hear me,

know I can listen to her need,

know it is beyond my reach,

and that is really alright with me.

I understand,

‘I just can’t’

or perhaps it is as easy as,

‘need this time’

rather than be responsible for the anxiety

might be reached,

when decidedly the silence seems necessary.

 

Last night, I held your hand,

and in that quiet moment, just the peace,

of touch,

of a silent love that shared we frustrate

our reality to such levels,

there is a depth of pain no anxiety might ever release.

 

So I do return to that touch,

the glance,

eyes that suggest compassion,

a smile and holding your need next to my own,

and it is there I remain,

always here.


Quiet Friday In Coffee Shop


Inside this place with so many conversations,

in lies, in testimony, perhaps a confessional,

the voices are quiet on a lonely Friday evening

when a listener might wonder if alone is real,

wishing for the banter,

the loud grinding noise of an expressive machine,

delights the aromatic nature of each possessor.

 

Tonight he waits with patience,

allows trepidation to filter into his state of mind,

the ever distant grains of sand that swept together

give a certain barrister nightmares,

but he,

the man alone in the coffee shop on Friday night,

only imagines her walking through the door to break the silence,

when she does,

he wonders if she might,

would she share the moment,

the victory of silence,

with some canned music overhead,

a surreal notion while the moon paints yards

across the city,

here,

a Friday night,

when she does appear, he will, he might,

a tear of joy,

a balance to the helpless plight,

forever love.