The Lovers March to Eternity

There is so much fire burning within, smoldering wishes for love’s life to begin.

Life again as it was when I was young with our free hearts of passion entwining as one; experiencing the world joined together – souls lit with the promise of plenty forever – an imaginative history created before it begins, these are the things that young hearts believe in.

The embers lost daily to life’s routine this poem starts from loss, sorrow; misplaced dreams.

There is much to be said for the commitment and respect, for the sanctity of marriage so as not to regret, but if you find yourself lost then you must start again and remember what passions were in you as life began.

And then you have no choice for you must decide to take the path well worn and traveled or challenge the ride. I’m not sure what I have in me, the strength or the hope to make my dreams be in this swirling of smoke- it burns, burns my eyes, burdens my soul, weighs me down into restraining control.

I must find again the desire, the longing, the belief; passion and fortitude within me I seek, vulnerability held gently as I fight to hold on. I ask, dare I bask in the prosperous riches of risk -to begin again though I’m still lost in the mist.

Though the scars of careless openness still hang weary on my soul, I remain determined, steadfast and bold.

Still vigilantly marching upon the sublime dogged foes, the constant companions of the “average Joes”, they will have to be sacrificed for my love to be free, they will have to be sacrificed for me to be me.

I will find what I live for!  Valiant, golden and bright! … for I am, forever my Father’s delight.

And with His constant direction of warmth and hope, together my love and I will march to the end of the road; where I’ll look upon your face and thank Heaven above for His unending support of our perilous love.


In the words of Van Gogh

I’m a little late to the Van Gogh party, only yesterday stumbling upon his genius, not even so much as a painter but as a person; a kindred spirit.  I watched the video below and am dumbfounded by the genius and soul of Van Gogh and his writing, as with his heart, so pure, so innocent and able to capture in words and paint a world not so generous to him.

I hope you enjoy “Van Gogh – in his own words” as much as I did.  This is his biography but his elegant, insightful words are sprinkled throughout and I’m mesmerized by them.

The Duel of the Poet

Staring at a blank paper for hours at a time.
I search over and over the spaces of my mind
trying desperately to find the right words to unleash upon the world.

My mind wanders through courtyards, down back alleys  – my imagination flies over majestic mountains and moonlit streams.
I am jotting down words and phrases
in an unorganized jumble that is my mind across the page.

Disgusted with frustration for this process that eludes me, I crumple the paper discarding it with the rest in an overflowing basket in the corner;
words, ideas, thoughts once again overtake my mind and
slowly, with great care, out of the jumble I pick a choice few and
jot them down again only to scrap these fakers once again.

Lastly, after my forced wit and imagination have run dry,
after I’ve given up the effort to maintain logic and cadence to written emotions that long to be free,  I abandon control,
wrung out and exhausted from the tussle now finally willing
to allow my feelings to gracefully pen themselves
with liquid stealth across my once blank and foreboding page.