Speaking: crisp, linen white.
I dont think you even know.
A tongue so tailored with
Practiced coarse notes
And grainy preambles
Hinting at callous undertones.
Speaking after all, aloud;
Must all the other ears be deaf
To this language of a loving heart.
Come to grips. Its all right there
Among us and beside you.
Cupping a palm to navigate
With veteran skill and ease
Exploring my simple landscape
And home again I feel.
I really dont think you know.
Those windows laced with lashes:
Dark mystery veils little
But a sweet and honest heart
Ripe still with curiosity and passion
Bravely bearing scars from battles lost.
My eyes land quickly
Seduced by the warm, inviting
Landscape.
I heard the almost muted whispers
Like a force begging to be reckoned with.
In silent shadows walked a lonely man.
In darkness he woke,
Speaking: crisp, linen white.
04.13.09















Comments
--
"If you are flammable and have legs, you are never *blocking* a fire exit."
~Mitch Hedberg
I didn't know you were a poet until now, and I've been away from your pages for many moons, not because of any deficiency on your part, but just a change of habit. Yet now I'm confronted with your poems, and I can barely believe the depth of tender feeling and the remarkable sense of the emotions.
You words stir such wonderful things inside me. I simply must return and read more. Thanks so much.
Cliff
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