I write of love again, I never tire
of doing so and know I'll never stop
A heart of love is filled with lovely fire
but also a cool stillness as a sop
for the ill winds that buffet our elans
With the despair of blind birds some can’t love
Love’s secret lies in the sheer grace of swans
Or the sweet sound of a cooing dove
Like the sea washes the sand with the tide
erasing castles built with errant hands
Love should forgive with both arms open wide
Else our joined fealties rest on shifting sands
Oh you blind birds forsake your futile quest
God must have dreamed your fate in cruel jest
-
Author:
George (My real name) (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 3rd, 2017 09:02
- Comment from author about the poem: I haven't had that many loves (romantic) in my life. I had one obsessional love I do regret terribly and one (my present) genuine, mature love that is so rewarding it makes me want to weep.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
Offline)
Comments2
All too true, those last two lines nail it. Is our existence here on earth a pre planned course to test us? Excellent and provocative writing. Please comment on my stuff.
Thank you very much Dusk.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.