Unspoken Plot

your
fingers
adjust
to
the
page

in such a
subtle
fashion

the
words
I
cannot
speak

Awaken

gently,
still
rain-
swept
trees
awaken

to foster-
hush
this morning
fog

lost
to a velvet
rhapsody
of now

copyright-2012-M.D.

For The Young Man Dying Alone

young man
set to face
his weary
demise
in silence

you granted it alone
no visitors came
no family
no friends
just you

that eerie
sunshine
wafted
in as
a welcome beam
through the window

crackles of life
spoke
from
the
city
below

the next day
you were gone

Copyright–2012–M.D.

Last Words From The Great War Dead

Parcel of lamb’s captured.
Been hoarded;
carted off to distant doom.
These uneasy nights speak masted.
Boarded with impending doom.

The fragrant fires pop echo.
Light chatter all the while.
Gun powder, dust and grazed matter.
Hues burning to death’s smile.

Copyright-2011-M.D.

The Soap Opera

Part One:

You knew what I wanted.
When gently you uncovered.
A slow-moving passion.
Grooving strangers into lovers.

A curled hand in mine.
A touch of no conceal.
Let blue skies unfurl!
A sun shining real.

I parted lonely space.
Pulling you close to chest.
Allowing lips a better taste
of what lips only do best.

Smooth flesh of your tight belly.
Eyes in cosmic trance!
Supple to their light of pleasure.
As we merry chance.

A time alone—
this moment’s glow—
before we ‘spire down.
Lovely is your beating heart.
Timed to sensual sound.

Live like Mozart.
In concerto, something of a “G”
To be this pure; time not matter.
For time we cannot see.

I gathered straight to want her still;
Standing so ashamed.
Longing for her unguarded self.
This Older Woman explained:

“To be your woman.
I’ll be another.
Who is lovier than your rest?
I haven’t much in these affairs,
Knowing younger I’ll get less.”

This man be challenged!
My heart a roar.
Bled straight to flesh and bone.
Oh! The arrogance lover in still.
That she could have shown.

Breathless still and wanting bad.
Makes all fairest play.
Until she swindles upon a test.
The words women say!

Part Two:

“At last together!
Growing old.
In barren fields of yesterday’s told.
A man to a woman.
A woman to a man.
And man needs a woman.
Who says that she can.
Be quite a woman;
lover good indeed.
And love her a man
who’s truth is lead.

With no promise–
Where does one find?
A lover for his colors
not washed in time.
If such a promise.
This one of our faith.
Would you honor so well
and carefully not waste?
The years of our hand.
Molded like a bust.
Linger for it’s art
while loving what you trust.

How clever you ‘gents!
Sneaky and slither
forgotten such sweetness
in many years’ wither.
My body not the same—
so does not show.
The same meaning once,
before love you bestow.

Much as a morsel.
Crushed under your feet.
Not so tender
when such in deceit.
My eyes become hazy.
My heart like a wall.
Will we be strong
when temptation call?

Truth so unbearable!
When kept in disguise.
Dread is the field
planted with lies.”

Part Three:
“In Wisdom of Soldiers and Lovers”

Spica, Great Star!
Slow-gentle we stare.
In rise of Summer night
tucked firmly to air.
Child-like my lover,
so silent–unspoken.
Vowed to her thoughts;
yet, I have unbroken.
I speak about wisdom
maybe quite too much.
To shoe off awakening,
come romance we touch.
This sensation’s mellow!
More mellow than love!
But, how can I adore her—
and both Heaven’s Above?

She says, “I am listening.
For all that you know.
Words of these places
no human dare go.”

Dear, dumbfounded gamble,
how see and not trust!
So much for my talk
she takes as rust.
Hot till it amber
turn pride into dust!
Does she think I am speaking
without passionate must.

Pause our throats.
Again we slip—
Heavy to not sway.
Careful planned were my thoughts levied;
then, all did drift away.
To shadow light her moonlit
passions—hiding—so alone.
I did not fear for what had happened.
Sometimes better is not shown.
Drowning in our silent selves
upon innocent realize:
The beauty of this German woman
held firmly to her size.
Of olive skin and soft black hair—
straight as dawn’s bright power.
I lulled in warmest rhapsody,
sung quietly in this hour.
She brings me to a place in
time where pastures wave by day.
Savoring to a Dreamland Solstice.
My mind went years away.
To find this angel sitting here,
knitting time as it knew:
We reached our vortex, swirling mass,
in The Land of Deja Vu.

Fable vast!
So much prevail!
Let welcome show as smart.
Captivate what my knowing for—
growing—steadily state-of-art.
Ursula, look to clear night skies.
Humble as I speak.
Wisdom thrive to earnest way.
Love-making cannot seek.
A book of lovely written verse—
Shelly, Shakespeare, Milton, too,
would agree on what is less or more.
Knowledge make as lover’s true.

“Do define your holy preach,” she says.
At first found,
“Tell me all of Newton’s thoughts.
Is my earth flat or round?
Do butterflies eat with knives and forks?
Is sunshine really yellow?
Why is that such jilted lovers’ encounter
never ‘hello’?
Speak more of phobias, moons and Spica!
A toilet inside of home.
Why is it that I close this door—
even when so alone.
If not for fright and dark night rooms;
falling in my dreams.
Tonight you talk in end-less chatter,
busting width at seems.”

Oh, really now!
Do I say,
“Laugh at Ursula’s wit.”
She could not humor, though riddle herself;
not born to joke a bit.
I feel the need to savage brains,
boiling like a stew.
Simmering at the finer taste
of conversation’s new.

Batch of words—
good to hear—
but never trust them all!
In this match she’ll Vow Forever.
Then sell you a Trojan Wall

Forming up these fine examples.
Gentlemen who have fell.
Un-wise to weight of Venus’ plight,
plot them to Hades Tell!
What’s to say about Sampson’s hair—
Did he not want a peach?
Not so well was A’s Heel,
for only his mother’s reach.

In witness, thereof, you stand so high.
A wedding white unveil!
Your sumptuous catch in virgin waters
where also float some kale.

A soldier perhaps—although his keenest—
sucker as her prey.
Not thinking about what could be got
while he is duty’s away.
Many those women in Tavern’s Town,
locust of the lair.
Spend his dough and pity none
while stripping at buddies’ there.
Do make a promise of good faith.
While lesson’s time again.
Refer to fate of star’s light past.
For surprises are no friend.

Copyright-2012-M.D.

Warrior Poem#4 Empty Hands

connected
to
this
wait

a
while
to
the
poetic
time

a
dear rush
before
she walks
beside me

the
empty
hand;
such
the
empty
heart.

Where does one go.
Meek,
blind,
still,
in
these
empty
hands.

Only to wait.

Copyright-2012-M.D.

Lincoln Center Band Shell

The lone band shell sitting ways against
the start of summer.
Trees hugging vacant white.
Pondering a clear sky.

“All the world is a stage!”
roars the imaginary crowd.
Sitting to awaken.
This emptiness before me.
But I see them.
I hear them.
Clearly, these ghosts have been.

A ham’s exhibition.
To appease the night’s performance,
I stand in shadows.
Cast by the white-sodium glow
of lights that adore above.

I stare at the sky.
Yet alone;
captivated by these pretending folks.
Who is real?
And.
Am I really alone?

The rain comes lightly.
Bringing for a wind
rattling ropes against
the flagpole.

The sound of imagination.
The sound of a crowd.

Waiting.
Eagerly.
Forever.

Copyright-2012-M.D.

A Poem For My Secret Love

These are not dark dreams, My Secret Love.
You have written the dialogue for this movie.
In such secret ways, these pictures playing
By the light of telepathy.

Flowing in eager constants.

I have rushed with you to the shore.
There, among the twilight of wind-swept
sand,
our feet touch breeze and water.
Surf speaking in tones cue to wonder—
Will I swim with you for eternity?

Copyright–2012–M.D.

Rain Poem#3

all
the
wildness
stripped
bare

in contemplation
of
a
different
you

inspiring
moments
from
the
past

Copyright-2012-M.D.

Rain Poem#2

spirit
hushed
by
solemn
remembrance

Copyright-2012-M.D.