Lift me high with those loving hands, that chiselled my passionate heart. Lift me high above all creation, and let me gaze, upon your art.
Tag Archives: Love
Your lips
I labour, hands in dirt, hot sun on my back. All I have to offer is my heart, in this month of your zodiac. It’s the first day of the week, the sun is beginning to set. I search for words and metaphors, yet your lips, the goal i’ve set.
Cretian air
Her hair waved in the wind with the red ensign. The waves elated like a soul with rhyme. It was warm, dusk closer to night. Poets time, when angels visit to help bards write. Aside of me and her, and the warm Cretian air.
we touch the unseen
In these peculiar times I realise every action counts, as this wave in me mounts and mounts. It’s unclear to see what’s rising with the sun from over the horizon, nor what to me you even mean. But I do know together ‘we touch the unseen’.
I awake
I awake in the calmness of tranquil poetry protected in love time losing all grip over me music notes dancing in a gentle summer breeze i’m like a loose leaf from a tree not care roaming free
Flames of promises
She’s left much more behind than a single blonde hair on my pillow. Inspiration oozing, like rain overflowing the leaves of a willow. Feelings unchained as her absence is felt. Flames of promises ignited from a kiss. This night everything what’s known about her, I miss.
The ocean inside
I seized onto those deep-seated eyes, your deliberation,please from me don’t hide. I want all of you, I want to dive into the tide fall to the ocean inside.
Two of a kind..
One kiss, two souls, cut from the same cloth, with those three words, you made me whole. On the count of four, our paths alined. The world hates, we’re two of a kind.
Remembering
Feels like I’ve been here so long. So I strain to think back, to when things weren’t so wrong. But all I see is my hands cuffed in a sweatbox. So I strive even harder, trying to forget about locks. No! I’m in a cold court cell and like a scared snail, I retreat aloneContinue reading “Remembering”
Tequila Rose
She was tequila rose, he the Lynchburg oak. She said more with one look, than any word she spoke. Warmth, emancipated by her soul, melts away at the snow. Revealing a taste of what all want to know.
Smith Shine Poetry 