Kingsley Station

Original Poetry | 11/25/2003 | January24th

[Soaring Feather]

Thank You, J24, you give as much to us.

[January24th]

Kisses
holy
or hungry
sweet
or savage
why should lips minister thus?
lightly on cheeks
firmly on anothers'mouth
soft as a sigh
a carressing affection
or afectation
it matters not
a kiss is an affirmation
so reassure me again
of my worth
and kiss me...

let me wander
far and wide
seeking the thing that moves me
i will return to a kiss
i will live for such a thrill
a common connection
that binds heart and soul
heals and heartens
my weary spirit
oh, kiss me...

on my last day
ask me not for wisdom
or final words
send me to the Eternal
with a wish and a kiss
let me know
the kind impartation
of blind love's devotion
and kiss me good bye...

[Kay Syrah]

the ninth life

My cat lies
upon my breast
a purring poultice
for my fevered
heart, still
I catch her eye
and know,
she wants to steal
my breath

[Soaring Feather]

Oh that's so pretty. Thanks.

[Camachee]

the self-doubt
of artistic
accomplishment
adorns a canvas
signed by you

[Camachee]

american cigarettes
an apple liqueur
and an occasional
loquacious blonde
were ordered
delivered by dawn

[Camachee]

swiftboat politics
once upon a viet nam
hanoi twice removed

[Camachee]

i live
in a light
divided
privacy
of sheer intimacy
chancing
overbalancing
the silence
of repose

[Kay Syrah]

Night things

Cicadas click
moon dips
doors whisper
closed
making a noise
for time.

Dark slips
its fingered grip
inside a glove
that delineates
its invisible hand

night procedes
ignoring
the no wake sign
and rocks
the loosely moored
till they free
themselves from
restraint

and boats
shake their
harbour tethers
to follow
the tide
at dawn.

[Kay Syrah]

The dailysentinel

The newspaper crackles
with the static
of our silence
broadsheets
making walled streets
and fortresses
of paper

still, behind the lines
of careful words
and faux intelligence
some things advance.

[Soaring Feather]

Dark slips
its fingered grip
inside a glove
that delineates
its invisible hand

Oh gorgeous.

[Countyline]

on my last day
ask me not for wisdom
or final words
send me to the Eternal
with a wish and a kiss
let me know
the kind impartation
of blind love's devotion
and kiss me good bye...

tears at my heart
this good bye kiss
yet, is indeed the best
between the earth and sky
with a prayer
you'll be met in paradise
forgetting all else
in rapt joy ...

[Countyline]

You have a marvelous way with words evidenced throught this entire thread. It is enticing, beguiling, and mood altering to read your work. Thank you.

Bind them together and have them printed. Many will benefit. At least it would be a thrilling prospect ...

[Kay Syrah]

Button Jar

Jet beads matching
nothing in a glass
jar that held pond’s
cold cream as if
such an abacas
could account
for the time that
advanced thru the
space of popped
restraints

when the fabric was
too worn to repair
and faces gave
themselves to
wrinkles, tho
the promise of
youth’s elixir was
hopeful and what
was saved within
would have
buttressed a bosom
buttoned, boned,
and stayed
against time
and its mother
of pearl
reminder
of wear.

[Camachee]

i like
writing to you
in the dim night
grim light
reality
dark alley
recognition
of silent sedition
offsetting sensation
against
the common sense
of tonight
beset by sunrise

[Camachee]

aflutter
flitting
through
night's bright
light
sampling
dawn's dew
in a garden
celebration
seldom seen
she paused
and remembered
me

[Soaring Feather]

I always enjoyed
dancing in shadows
with you
side stepping obvious
pitfalls carefully
placing my pen to paper
in black velvet ink
and playing dodge ball
with the moon

[Soaring Feather]

In the garden she
remembered
sun filled days
star lit nights
fireflies blinking
and the sweet
smell of jasmine

She remember
his lovely brown yes
the curl of his lips
and the way he loved
to rub her nose with his

She thought she heard
the night whispering
her secrets
but mistook the night
for a nightmare of mornings
without him

She paused to remember
he died a long time ago.

[Camachee]

She thought she heard
the night whispering

she thought
of tomorrow
and tomorrow
and tomorrow again
a last moment
projected
into a future
perfection
but still tense

[Soaring Feather]

She thought of him
and said let's
create some romace
in the present tense
let's count the stars
perhaps a trip to Mars
for the future
memories to turn
our dreams into
a reality dance
and spin a path
to lovers lane
and lavender sunsets
in the garden by the sea