A new year has graced our morning with promises
of our deepest daydreams
for nowhere shall we give breath to the nagging worries
lying in the nightmares of life soured
on the bare grape vines.
The wistfulness of the sweet primal longing
the deep painted lips of desire
with the touch of blooming honeysuckle on the breeze
waiting impatiently I must confess my hope
does he come this way?
Broken hearts feed upon the melancholy night
songbirds silent in their nests
prayers upon the parted lips of eternal hope escape into the dark
with the soft regret of words spoken so hastily
between the salt of our bearing witness to death
of one's growing desire.
Damn the world of my nights
damn the demons that taunt me without pity and certainly
without mercy of my sinking soul
Damn the world before the first ray of sunlight
dwelling in the misery that has chained me to this destiny
forever berating the daydreams
of my heart...
Every story in the head of every writer starts with inspiration
pulling forth the emotions from this day or from somewhere unseen
of another time and another life...
if we could write about our deepest dreams and the tears
that soak slowly into our pillows as the moon rises
catching in our chest like a rock travelling
downstream in a rainstorm.
barb
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