I like to watch you
Falling asleep
After our
passion has spoken
You lie on your side
The covers half off
Wearing nothing
but a sweet smile
The house is quiet
The day has been stripped away
And your beauty is what remains
Filling me with thoughts
of tomorrow…
The clock sat smugly on the shelf,
As if upon a throne,
Contented with uncounted wealth
Accrued through debtor-loan.
One thousand minutes from the lad
Who tried some time to keep-
Two hundred hours from the maid
Who’d stolen off to sleep–
And twenty days the afternoon
Full washed away by rain–
And thirty weeks- owed by the moon–
For daring so to wane.
Then laughed and laughed the greedy clock,
And selfish sneaked his hands,
As screaming trumpets- tick and tock–
Exclaimed his steep demands.
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Seventeen blank shots
five each for birth and death,
wedding gets seven.
~~~~~
Wrestling or scuffling
quite intimate dual,
an earthly comfort.
~~~~~
An accomplishment
grows ten hands in a body
pays to two only.
Did we find answers there? Across
The square they walked in groups, twos, threes.
You watched, trying to recall a lesson,
The Latin I had traced with a fingertip.
A lesson common to them all.
The air was green, and the jasmine had turned,
The smell sickly yellow.
Delicate. No-one could bear it,
But you, who made an afternoon bloom, and
Flushed me out from my study. For all time.
Caught me, like a child, with remembrance.
With voices from your past, breaking my peace,
And deserting me. My love.
You wore your crown of bays and recalled the lesson.
And my place was shattered.
I think we found our answers there. In a place,
That you could break and tear.
Until all that was left was me.
Did you still come willingly?
The childhood, the youth and the old age
The ages to learn, earn and efface.
An age of dependence the childhood is
Compelled to spend on other’s wish
Encircled with books and prohibitions
Controlled and regulated all its actions.
The earth rotates with its revolution
And a youth grows up in evolution
Domestically wild he is in nature,
An incarnation with fearless gesture.
He is a riddle-less galloping horse
Fond of leaping to summit and endorse
The triumph of his purity and vitality
But criticised merely for its prodigality.
Synonymous to him- tied or untied,
He runs with storm keeping aside
An obstruction may imperil his life
But he smiles at it only to gibe.
Accumulates experiences and resources
Shares with whom he loves and graces
Rules his world for long time and term
And surrenders when he becomes infirm
The old age is the heart less age of effacing
Prides and contumacy start vanishing
The strength gets lost and amazed
And the biography is stopped and effaced.
Oh thou… who were very gentle and mild
Who always lived with me
Tried to make me a human not wild
Always showed me a precious key
Thou looked left to right up to down
Found something to pour out
Being wearied by the busy town
Thou decided to fade out
I stare at a thing now
Before I stared and thought
I knew you were there no
To have you I struggled and fought
Oh the poet in me please leave me no
For I will exist than live
I want to pour out my soul more
You have helped to give
As long as you consist
Somewhere in me
I will live than exist
With the help of thee
I have no religion
The one I have is in the lock box
Love is the closet form of prayer
It’s around every corner, waiting, wanting
Love can start anywhere
On line at the post office
On the C train headed to Penn Station
Shopping for avocados in the market
Even if your heart has been splintered
In a million shards of scrap
Go to the lost and found
The clerk might be holding flowers
Live, Lust, Dream, Laugh
Smile through dark clouds
Pet a dog, give money to those with less
Love yourself, Make this the day…
Filling my eyes with tears
You went… leaving me behind
In the evening you fill my dreams
Why do I love you… like this?
You did cheat me, I know
The hurt is written in the heart
But before your eyes
I am servile… only you know why
Feel like meeting you again
Tomorrow evening and saying “I love you”
Though I dream only about you
You don’t belong to me, I know…
I don’t know
I don’t like to read
Poems that rhyme
It’s kind of a cop out
A gimmick
That sing song sludge
You call your verse
Take some time
And do it right
What would the present be,
stripped
of this building,
this person,
this winter’s day?
More at https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/MichaelWalter.