Towards setting sun I strike a pose
in chase of dusk’s last errant kiss,
clinging tight to hope, disposed,
dreaming in the sweetest bliss
of light remembered,
duty bound while love enthralled
across an ochre meadow, this.
Barley wisps ignite the lea
crowned in long ray’s amber fire,
blinding what I strive to see,
as stirrups stretch in raising higher
to glimpse the spark,
lift the veil,
find my love across this dell,
there chance to win her arms, retire.
Eternity my shortest day
hath called me from the tomb and grave
to burden deep my soul to stay,
to ride upon eternal wave
of amber field,
of setting sun,
to nearly see the face, the one
who’s love I couldn’t save.
Toward dusk I strike a hopeful pose,
dreaming of her one last kiss,
belay a sudden scent of rose
to carry home my heart, remiss
of pain endured,
beyond the tide,
at dream within this errant ride,
across this golden meadow’s bliss…
Eternally I ride…
Cast betwixt two drifts of wind my sorry soul did drown,
torn between two lover’s tides, in confluence, pulled me down
beneath these waves of temporal flux, be cast to love’s deep purpose,
where only I can pay the debt, one hundred years be tied to service.
In penance to all breaking hearts that I may mend their shattered hopes,
forever ‘neath the northern star, forever pulling frozen ropes.
No reference to horizon made that I my debt delay,
held beyond sweet morning’s dawn, denied each glimpse of day.
Cast I wreck from havoc to belay a pardon’s sweet remorse
that these poor souls adrift here, by me, return their course.
So to love or death they go with fractured hearts amend,
yet of the shards here left behind unto my selfish purpose lend
a hope that love may still await when placed within my own,
that penanced years of servitude may build a heart, so grown.
Yet still the seas of love do crash, deliver me their broken hopes,
as time stands still beneath this pole, these frozen hands on frozen ropes.
Her silken touch in dance across the twill’s uneven strand,
graces so her slender wrist as beauty’s stem and giving’s hand.
Poised in quiet pleasure, she works the loom in quickened throws
of shuttle passing twixt the threads which capture kind the weft in rows.
Her mind and heart deny the task that binds this simple weave,
permits her drift on whispered tones of gypsy songs that pitch and heave
through stories of the rover, of hearts won true seduced by song,
of verdant green and rolling rills that tempt a maiden’s heart strings long.
Between the woven threads of twill she hears a whistling soft and sweet
that slowly grows above the hill, its timber and its tone complete.
She feels the green wood gently ring in echo ‘cross the valley’s rill,
till nearer from the shady lane she feels her heart give rise, then still…
“But for gypsy rover!” she laughs and pulls the warp lines tight,
“One day he’ll yet come for me!” smiles and casts the shuttle’s flight
between the warp suspended threads, sweetly bound by loving hand,
blended with the rover’s song still tempting maidens through the land.
In honor of and inspired by the song “The Whistling Gypsy” also known as “The Gypsy Rover”
There’s a song in the heart of my lover
that stems the wake of crashing truth,
that holds my soul suspended
here upon a glimpse of youth.
There’s a truth in the laud of her sweetness,
that holds my child between the days,
that keeps my raging spirit calm
within her soft and kindest gaze.
There’s a love in the eye of my truest,
that speaks to me in volumes sung,
that dreams the moments’ dreams with me,
that holds this world in sum
of all we know in each other,
of all we ever hope to be,
of what we know when all else fails…
‘tis here our hearts desire to be.
Send me back in time to be the one you wanted there.
Bend my longing eyes to find your loving heart, standing bare.
Find the pulse, quickened beat, break reluctance then repeat till what is left of us is true, no doubt of fate, just me and you.
Rip the questioned fabric down revealing only youth.
Burn the closets, melt the crowns, sell the spoils for truth.
Reach to me, smile your eyes, hold me fixed in lullabies that dream the dream of what we know, held there in such afterglow.
Grant the sleep that lovers know when all the world has vanished.
Heap our hearts in pyre’s show denying fate by futures banished.
Hold in wisps my silhouette as leaving earth our lives forget the years apart transfixed by life, knowing that you were my wife, and eternally my lover.
There is a line that stands in time
between two lonely hearts displaced,
there hung by clothespin’s fading care
are hopes on parchment penned by grace
that hold the sweep of hands that keep
the rhythm kind across this space,
pulls the heartstrings bound in pairs
that each will know each other’s face.
When soul on soul is granted
by downbeat of the moving parts,
there comes a living moment’s bliss
between the chords struck for two hearts.
There is a call that beckons all
to seek the gift and soul of one
whose heart in reverberation pulls
the truth of love in anxious sum,
of two that still the simple will
as resonant waves of love undone,
there calms the ether fast and full
that into each sweet life does run.
When soul on soul is lifted
by what our greater spirits know,
then shines the truth of what is meant
by “soul mates” love in what they show.
In ageless hesitation,
the pedals of the rose caress
the lines of time held sweet to rhyme
there poised across the oak’s duress,
that hold this ancient table
as art above its form
and echoes sweet the whispered times
when love engaged it, warm.
Now ‘tween the grains are softened waves
whose crests form black and knurled,
midst stains of life and living spilt
across an age unfurled.
Sweet the musky rose entreats
the golden oak with peace,
dripped from fallen “love me nots”
and broken heart’s release.
Silent stands the aged stem
whose vase has dried and browned
to contrast kind the porcelain
in fissures where life’s time has drowned,
and left the finest web enwrapped
about the fading glaze once white,
now aged and thin as are the hands
that nearby hold one pedal tight.
Held quiet in reflection,
dreams of love entwine her thoughts
as lines of time held sweet to rhyme
drape long across this moment sought,
as oak and rose sustain her
and hold her saddened form,
while echoes sweet in whispered words
enrobe and keep her warm.
Time escapes the days long spent
when phrases languished eloquent
across the air and ether there,
drawn from favorite poems with care.
By your sweetest voice they moved,
the moment caught between us soothed
in sparkled eye and loving glance,
caressing longing hearts, entranced.
Through Shelley, Sidney, Thomas, Croft,
you set the poems of love aloft,
where “kind the moonbeams kissed the sea”,
and questioned, “if thou not kissed me?”
Long hours spent in narrow nooks
in search of treasures, ancient books,
to rise with voice and proudly read
each line to me as lover’s creed.
As time has moved between the gates
of then and now, as dear soul mates,
I count each quiet moment blessed
when still we read our love confessed
in classic lines of verse and prose,
through quivered voice and passion’s throes,
in every poem between us two,
in every moment’s rhyme with you,
my love for you, eternal.
In every waking moment’s splendor,
I find you by my side.
In depth of sleep with faith entrusted,
I feel your breathing, dreaming tide…
I know no world without you,
my past just distant echoed calls,
for all this life has blessed me with
seems only true, when toward you falls
my heart and soul in this sweet bliss…
true love, true friendship, true soul-mate’s kiss…
Everyday, it’s not enough
to touch your hand or kiss your brow,
whisper sweet “I love yous”,
express my heart, show you how
much you mean to me…
So, to help you understand
my depth of love for you,
please know the moment’s love before
creates an instant present, new,
built in treasures of love’s moments passed,
that with every waning instant,
yields a new love grasp…
Within such burgeoning power,
my heart and soul swell to love you more,
so it is with heart string flowers
I whisper softly and kneel before…
“My love, will you marry me
in this moment of sweetest bliss?”
“Be mine again, again, forever,
and forever hold this nuptial kiss.”
In quiet space, where light is kind,
hand in hand, may your love find
the years’ sweet color in echoed call…
that lights reflection on this starting gate,
when life was young and could not wait
to bathe in journey’s love and bliss…
though memories’ fabric yet to twill,
your hearts and souls as one life will
forge great the castings of your values, kissed
in truth and kindness, as dearest friends,
true soul mates, this love again
rolls waves of peace around you…
that those whose souls you touch with light,
will know your truth, and sense the quiet
respect that’s there between you…
As your story grows in verse,
may memories stitch sew one life’s purse
to hold and recollect the lines,
that time will honor to hands and face,
life’s souvenirs by God’s sweet grace,
and therein keep your love, less time…
By candle light at dusk’s edge stalling,
regardless of the season falling,
look deep into each other’s eyes,
feel your love and friendship kind,
reflect in echo’s calling…
know the truth of this love you hold,
be it soon, or with time grown old,
this love is yours, this moment’s bliss
is held eternal in true love’s kiss,
timeless and enduring…