Kingsley Station

Original Poetry | 11/25/2003 | January24th

[Camachee]

he wrote her
an alphabet
of letters

[Camachee]

sunday
i met
a sullen man
devoid
of direction
confusing
a bus terminal
for a destination

[Soaring Feather]

The lavender night
soft moonlight
velvet capes
and finger cakes
the hint of sage
on your jacket
and walking moon
beams with you

[Soaring Feather]

He wrote the Ls best
how much he loved her
longed for her
lavished her with rich
perfume and oriental oils
lusted after her charm
and lasted until dawn
lost in love and laughing
in long yawns
and left her wanting

[Camachee]

midnight
and some minutes
past
a wound clock
passively confronts
infinity
transferred onto
a face
of indifference

[Camachee]

and left her wanting

he loved her til dawn
morning meant a departure
goodbye is silence

[Soaring Feather]

silence is lack of sound
an affair lost in a canyon
of crushing silent noise

[Kay Syrah]

tension springs
and the order
of time assaults
the release of
minutes till
we meet face
to face.

[Camachee]

silence is lack of sound
an affair lost in a canyon
of crushing silent noise

So, we agree. LOL!

i missed
the long night
lacking insight
when i fell asleep
in your arms
and woke
in your silence

[Soaring Feather]

i missed
the long night
lacking insight
when i fell asleep
in your arms
and woke
in your silence

Oh this is exquisite.

[Camachee]

time
suggests sleep
and sleep
abides dreams
and dreams
are possibilities
given time

[Camachee]

Oh this is exquisite.

Thanks, Dear. Always good to post with you.

[Soaring Feather]

time marched ahead of its self
this past weekend
I will never be the same until
time finds itself in the fall

[Kay Syrah]

given time

take time
waiting for given
is the passive
plea of a beggar,
its now or never.

LOL

[Camachee]

i know your night moves
i mentioned you to the moon
she smiled her pleasure

[Kay Syrah]

dawn threw an elbow
moon shadows cried foul in pain
hometowned once again

[Camachee]

the silent
pride
of approval
is also
an award

[Camachee]

until the morning blows
a flame when
it is needed most

what morn ignores dawn
gray sails have red indifference
teak bends to the wind

[Kay Syrah]

I bought a negligible
painting for the glory
of an ardent border.
And saw
the complete
innocence of blue
viewed thru
the plumes
of the tabebuia
And since
the margins
fixed the value
of the planes
I posed myself
a painter
still trying
to find a frame.

[Soaring Feather]

This is beautiful.