The Dark Collection

These poems are gentle musings on life, love, courage, acceptance and surrender. Browse through them slowly, leisurely; enjoy them as you would a stroll through the park on a Sunday afternoon or a cup of your favorite beverage at day’s end; and if a verse or two makes you pause and think, I thank you - and if you shed a tear or two, forgive me. In any case, my work is done.

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SLAKE

Like an exquisite vintage, you invaded my senses,
smooth and delicious, a heady bouquet,
potent with its sweet savor!
You teased and caressed with delicate heat,
setting my tongue on fire with thirst unquenchable,
sending me reeling into a stupor as I drank,
heedlessly and endlessly... from your vessel.
But now you are as a cup of water,
no longer intoxicating, but still wanted, still needed,
a dull craving waiting... but unwilling, to be expunged.
So I reach for you...
again and again.

A DARKER SHADE OF NEED

A darker shade of need,
A sadder state of mind,
A voyage with no destination,
Love and hate entwined.

A lonely state of bliss,
An echo left unheard,
An understanding soon forgotten,
The kind of death preferred.

The ache of empty arms
As he turns away to leave,
But you will mask the pain you feel
In secret, you will grieve.

A game of solitaire
Where the ace of hearts will bleed,
But the urge to cheat is in every hand,
… It's a darker shade of need.

MORPHEUS' ARMS

I long for his coming, my prince of night,
Sweetest kisses on my brow he bestows,
The air that he sings and that which I breathe
Blend to music only heaven will know.
I wait his arrival at dead of night,
When the moon and all stars have ceased to gleam,
For only then can we hold each other,
In the grey mists of an eternal dream.
I live only when each day has darkened,
Morning sun brings me nothing but sorrow,
Blue skies and daylight are meaningless now
For in truth… I live not for tomorrow.
I pray for day's end, for then I'll begin
To wake in this dream… all over again.

HOME

Home is where the heart is
Of that I have been told,
But does it really count still
When passion has turned cold?

Home is where you hang your hat,
Now that I know is a lie,
For when you go, your head is bare,
No hat….and no good-bye.

A man's home is his castle,
No reference to the queen,
For I was but a shadow,
Unheard and then unseen.

Home sweet home, it is often said,
But that is so untrue,
For most days were just filled with pain
Beaten black and blue.

And yet I do still think of home
Somewhere it may exist,
But not for me, my dreams of home
Have vanished with the mist.

PASSACAGLIA

Faces come, faces go, names I can't recall,
The unrelenting passages of winter, spring and fall.
And though, at times, there may have been a poco ritardando,
Summer, too, soon disappears, that's life… an obligato.

URNS

I offer you a tender gift each day:
Gentle thoughts wrapped in honeyed syllables
Heated passion sheathed in crystal prisms;
All of these in small alabaster jars,
To line the shelves of your vast treasury.
I sometimes wonder if you look at them -
If you run your fingers across their shapes,
If you count the curved pleats around them,
If you breathe the fragrance they were bathed in.
Should you do all these – I'll want for nothing!
But even if the jars are unopened,
I shall still make a gift of them to you.
And when I have given you the last one
You shall own all… and every bit of me.

CAVATINA

'All things end,'
And I knew that from the start,
Now, I need to say it….
To a very stubborn heart.
She refuses to believe,
She refuses to see,
That the pain inside her will vanish,
Once I set you free.
There are no misgivings, dearest,
I could not have loved you more,
So in tenderness, I bid you….
'Addio, senza rancore.'

PASSAGES

Seeking truth in a wilted flower
as the hours leave no trace of existence
and the trampled weeds around
abound only in echoes of children's laughter
and the chatter of birds now flown away.
Losing innocence for dreams unfulfilled
while the stillness of water hides
shadows and grief and weeping
for the absence of tears.

ASTRAL PROJECTIONS

We are made of stars, we are of them,
brighter than any comet in the sky.
We are the true light of imagination,
we are the purest heat of truth,
and we are the incandescent hope of dreams.
We are as old as creation, yet younger
than unborn worlds.
We have transcended time and place
with the speed of thought.
We are limited only by our own fears,
and stifled only by our own doubts.
We are of the stars… and it is time to shine!