As I tread the place once tread before.  I long to know what is behind the door.

Is it heartache or a dear lover’s delight? Arms to shelter me within a stormy night?

Classical music, in the background would play. Seductive movement, in a cool night in May.

I once ventured this way, but not like this. I feel closer to desiring lips to kiss…

Is she a riddle or clue to my past?  Many times I feared, so I wore a mask.

I once fell headlong and void of sanity.  A preacher told me that much is vanity.

I weighed his words, as I still tried. Myself and the floor, to forcefully collide.

A favorable delight, I still held in sight. With all my strength, yes, all my might!

Bursting through the ground, in temporal hell.  Did she have eight arms weaving her web?

My words, I know cannot reshape history. These very steps I take remain a mystery.

Yes, lovers laugh as they forget the past. Once alone themselves, drinking whiskey in a glass.

Cumbersome is the problem, to someday fix. Will another offer treats or a bag of tricks?

A quiet loner, till I am revealed by love. When we twain will fit like a glove.

Life is a tragedy…flowing within is joy. Spilling my gloom and thoughts of being coy.

I sip my coffee, for I no longer drink wine.  Desiring a love that’s not forceful or unkind.

I reverence God now, and forever will.  I will not stoop for another’s’ happiness to steal.

I want for myself to someday own.  Bonded together by a valuable stone.

Through darkness, the lightning and thunder. This poet gives words to cherish and ponder.

Ponder the grief, while happiness is yet.  My heart is thirsty and my mind is set…

…to venture life as my soul doth battle. To question the enigma I sought to unravel.

Life is filled with grave and wonderful things. Yet the heart speaks in the midst of dreams.

With colors that bleed like a work of art. Dear things flow from the depths of the heart.

Like a faithful clock, it forgets not to beat. Love is hidden strength, when it is weak.


Der Untergang der Titanic

Der Untergang der Titanic


I pondered love, to sow…surely to reap. Love will be known, as death will creep…even after its cold fingers would chill and taunt the spaces yet to fill. The gravity of love, it forces not its own. Nor does it boast, yet forever is strong. Mending what pride relentlessly cut. Stitches of love does heal the wounded gut.

Inspiration, I have yet to tell it to thee. I have yet to carve your name on my tree. Infatuation, I pray it doesn’t steer my heart. If lust sets in, I will be in utter dark. Lost in the middle of a very large nowhere, surrounded by souls with no space to care. Drinking others sore bitterness and gall. Blind, surely a hole awaits to greet my fall! Two steps taken and I will be no more. Why would I knock upon your door? I have not sought for a mere pleasure. I desire for another to be their treasure. No other foundation laid down but love in the midst of madness that would push and shove. My eyes would not venture, for they is less than you! Why would I taint something fair and true?

Alone, with no company but the cigarette smoke. I cherish all the words my hand has wrote. I am thankful for grace God has given me. In the midst of a raging emotional sea. Endeared to Him…forever and always. Unalone am I, as I walk life’s hallways. Containing pictures of past and soon to be. The Lord is my trust…in Him I do flee. One request, with another is my desire. Someone to pray with when times are dire.

Desperation, to fathom the unreachable thing. In the distance, hope hangs from a string. Almost hopeless, yet there is little light. On love, I will soar with wings of flight. With a great hope, I hope in anticipation. Desiring love and not mere infatuation.

On the bottom of the ocean, my ship does lay. It rests far below the light of day. Waiting for discovery, for it has much treasure. With wealth to give, that none can measure. A fish’s habitation, to not become a prey. Underneath the wood is his place of stay. My ship is small and sunk with might. The grievous waves did roar within the night. Its shipmen safely found the nearest land. For their lives, forsaking the wealth at hand. Within the Atlantic, my ship continues to wait. For the wealth within serves not a crafty bait.

I will thirst more when my river runs dry. Pluck my feathers and I will cease to fly. Why is a book judged by the cover? What is a man, if he has not a lover? A bag of apples and one is rotten to the core. One house with no knob on the door. A chick will weep when mother is taken away. Money is wasted if no characters would play.

Long is the road and narrow was my past. I forsook my face and wore another’s mask. I was within, desiring another to come in. I pondered my four walls of my lofty den. Judging the books, another has ripped asunder. Peering through my window to see another blunder. I have eaten the apple then my belly did ache. My pain was known, that I could not fake.

Love is not a dream, it is concrete and real. Within a place no man could ever steal..

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