Loss

Loss

Oh, God,

What does it mean?

Am I alone

Yet near, beside

The one I thought

I’d have forever –

Experiences

Shared together

Now you’ve left

For better scenes

Still nothing, no-one

Comes between

The rose and orchard

We grew when

The garden bloomed –

The scent would spend

It’s time in what

Became a daze

Was it true love –

Or just a phase

Of a life spent

Lived to the full

Which force would win –

To push, or pull?

What dreams may come

And share my grief?

The one thing left

Was true belief

That one day

We will share a sky

Where we look in

Each other’s eyes

And say; I love you

Ever more

Your life is mine –

My life is yours

I could keep going

Here some more

Or calmer weather

Before the storm

Knowing that

I know not what

Is meant for me –

Or any other

That disowns

A true romance –

Who cannot walk the walk

Or dance the dance

That leads to

Disorganised array –

Found elsewhere –

A world away

Where the one true thing

Is belief

That one day

We will share a place

Looking in

Each other’s eyes

And say; I love you

Many times

Memories –

They’re always stored

Your life in mine –

My life in yours.

Succeed!

What does it mean to achieve

to think and feel

to love and grieve?

what does it say when we believe

to have faith

and strive to see?

but when one’s blind

is all lost?

or are other senses

used to find

what otherwise

will ne’er be gained

unless with patience

we refrain

from sudden action –

thinking fast

with such a thought

we’re ne’er to last

the distance needed

to succeed

and come again

as if to feed

our conscience –

that which thinks so slow

without which we share

no afterglow

yet if it’s there

we feed the air

and birds will fly

and eyes will stare

upon the scene

we cherish, first

like when we struggle

for a thirst

that hydrates

our sense, our need

as if we hunger

for a creed

that fills us

with the need to glean

the bluest sky

we’ve yet to see

and as our senses

feed our mind

what else is left

for us to find?

what else is there

for us to need

except to strive (and yearn)

to succeed?

Camellia

He walked amongst the many
and came across the one –
the one who made him feel
like he was walking on a cloud.

Wearing Leopard-spotted ‘happy shoes’
she was a slim little thing, five foot six at most,
wearing black, skin-tight yoga pants
that hugged her legs,
and a silky beige shirt hanging out over her hips
that showed her bare back when she bent down
to check for a book
on the shelf below her.

Her hair was black, long,
drooping over the nape of her neck
and resting half-way down
her slender back.

She rested her hands on her legs
lifted herself up from the crouching position
she’d maintained for a moment,
and as she stood up
she threw her hair over her left shoulder
and turned to face him.

When she walked her shirt slipped open at the front
to reveal her belly.
her soft, supple skin was like a baby’s bottom.
her face silky smooth, surely gentle to the touch,

She wore no make-up,
for there was no need to improve on perfection.
she had a gold stud in her lip,
but even that small admonishment
to her beauty only seemed to add to it

He felt his body changing
in ways over which he had no control.
he felt short of breath.
he was entering a place, a feeling, he was uncomfortable with.

Yet the feeling made him aware he was alive,
physically – mentally,
and able to appreciate the finer things.
he knew not whether to feel awakened and welcomed
to a brave new world
or whether he should feel aggrieved
by having been shut out of that very same world.

Had this girl awakened a sleeping spirit
or had she provided a teaser to something,
like a rainbow, that was just beyond his reach?

One girl – once. He had found his ‘camellia,’
blooming sweetly in the Spring.

wings of the dove…

The Commonwealth Games are almost upon us and my home town of the Gold Coast is having the Queen’s son, Prince Charles come visit for a while. He’ll be sure to want to visit rainforests and such but cyclones not far north may impede his trip somewhat. Only time, precious time, will tell.

In the meantime, Cobblestones and thatched roofs is a poem I dreamed up recently he might like. I include it here for your reading pleasure:-

More from Cosmofunnel:-

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/cobblestone-and-thatched-roofs-141182

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/my-kind-134662

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/the-wings-of-the-dove-142236

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/your-smell-131435

All the best to you all…