"When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the areas of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of his existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses, for art establishes the basic human truths which must serve as the touchstone of our judgment." - John F. Kennedy

Thanks for finding me. This is a fairly random sampling of my poetic rumblings beginning in the mid-70s to present day. Not definitive or complete, just things that struck me again for one reason or another on revisiting. There are a couple of previously published collections here which might be good places to start if you are diving in blind from the precipice.

Try the collections MEET THE BEATS or GLIMMERING RAY DUET (both archived in June 2008 in the menu below right) for starters if you are so inclined...

As of 2016, I will be publishing my song lyrics on a seperate page from the more poetic scribblings here. Pieces that first appeared here and then later were arranged for music will remain here in their original form but may appear edited on the lyric page. Check out the links section for the original song blog.

Monday, August 11, 2008

CAUGHT STARING

He’s caught himself staring again.
There is a radiant beauty about her
He has never before known.
Innocence and worldliness
At once and all encompassing;
The youthful exuberance
Seasoned by the timeless
Precipice of the unknown.

Her eyes, direct beacons
Shining her essence outward;
A lighthouse rescuing those in her light
From any slight doubt
That God or whatever
Magnificent generosity of creation
Is an art lover
A connoisseur of all that reflects
Life’s timeless beauty:
The glorious wonder of human kind
In the glow of her skin
In the joy of her giggle
The graceful lines of her body.

And I whisper thanks to the creator
For allowing me the guilty pleasure
Of her luxurious company.

That I yearn to feel her skin
Under my fingertips
Her silken hair against my chest
Will forever haunt my dreams.
In hers, she rides a giant horse
So big she can reach up into the trees
But she controls him
And as she tells me this dream
I tease her that I am that horse
And she can control me anytime.
She laughs
Slaps and pinches my arm
“You’re crazy.”
Crazy about you
My beautiful muse.
If I can ever touch
Your soft, delicate
Pink as spring cherry blossom
Lips to mine
I could die a fulfilled and happy man
The essence of passion
sprung to life in the touch.




~ FOR LS, May 24, 2008
Posted by at
Labels: , , , ,

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)