Masterpiece

You’re a small sleepy town

a familiarity that soothes;

like cobbled stoned memories

you reawakened my youth,

in the windows of your soul

shines a Tuscany sunset in spring;

your contours like warm rolling hills

and a smile like sunrise’s warm morning glow.

I’m flying high here on the ground

as if I were in a hot air balloon

and if feels like no one else is around

Only you, just you are all that exists.

Sweet sounds that emanate from fruitful lips

calling me in like waves lapping the beach;

your words mesmerize me as if in a trance

so simple but touching me so deep.

Your love is like water I need to quench my thirst,

your soul like fire feeds my love that keeps burning,

your mind that continually stimulates my yearning;

I can’t refuse, nor can I refute the effects of your love.

Though imperfect the feeling is perfectly manifested

throughout the years, the sadness, anger, happiness and tears;

together we’ve painted a picture and from my view

nothing else is more beautiful than the masterpiece that’s you.

Copyright by NewLife2008

Wicked Torment

In an old wooden house every night I sleep,

proclivity for rest is always fleeting

for my subconscious betrays my sensibility;

as is seems the house is alive and breathing

with creaks and bumps I hear every night.

In my bed I can’t determine its location;

is it inside the house or just inside my head?

I try to hone in on the sound as silence now abounds,

there it is; I hear it again, louder and louder it becomes,

my heart races and all of a sudden the sound stops -

Only the sound of my heart pounding remains

as I sit up sweat beads on my forehead appear;

all of a sudden my body is raked with chills and

my body won’t stop shaking as I try to keep still;

spent from exhaustion my body is terribly weak.

As I try to gather my thoughts it becomes clear

these sounds were spurned on by a nightmare;

I figure out now I was just hallucinating, the

sweat was coming from the high fever I had;

from this cruel flu that was driving me mad.

Copyright by NewLife2008

Only You

Kiss me, as I long for your touch

to me it means oh so much;

for it emboldens me to rise above

knowing that I have your love

With the back of your hand, touch my face,

stroking downward with a steady pace;

as I gaze in your eyes I don’t have to guess

the love for me you so willingly express.

Hold me close and whisper softly in my ear

and tell all the things of me you love so dear;

reiterating what I already know the truth to be

knowing I have your love makes me so happy.

It’s the little things you do that carry such weight;

the way you consider me and how you communicate

it only makes me want to reciprocate more and more

and love you for the rest of your life as no one has before.

It’s you that brings me joy when I’m feeling low,

knowing when to hold me and when to let go;

allowing me to vent when I go off on a rant or

encouraging me to carry on when I feel I can’t.

For you my heart will always be an open book,

never realizing it was you that all it took to

open up my eyes and see how love could really be

and it was you, only you that finally made me see.

Copyright by NewLife2008

In Between My Couch Cushions

In between the cushions of my couch

I found memories of you here and there;

A piece of lint from your sweater

and the conversations we used to share.

People watching was what I did with you

as if every movement was in slow motion;

I was captured by your beauty like a Rembrandt

but now its all a fleeting memory.

Finding coins between the cushions

doesn’t ease the void I now carry,

my pockets empty as my heart, torn apart

all because of something I did or didn’t do.

So I cleaned the cushion of all the memories

I just had to; I had to vacuum them all up

like glimmers of hair between the light and dust

and buttons that probably went to your sweater.

Shaking out all the dust and memories into the trash

remembering the fondness I found that day

and remembering the pain of what I lost;  

In between the cushions of my couch.

Copyright by NewLife2008

Paper Mache

It comes down to paper-mache,

all these hurtful words you say.

These bits and pieces that you spew

did more damage than you ever knew.

All these hurtful words you say

little by little I’m torn apart;

these bits and pieces that you spew;

that you sling at me day by day.

Little by little I’m torn apart,

These bits and pieces that you spew

Ended up hardening my heart;

it comes down to paper-mache.        

Copyright by NewLife2008

Composition for Justin

Life is all too precious as it hangs by a thread,

we do all we can to cherish those moments

and we wish we could see what lies ahead;

understanding some things is better left unspoken.

So it goes…my son was a victim of circumstance

even though he looked perfect he was damaged;

recessive genes in our DNA so rare but not rare enough.

Despite the doctors efforts he didn’t have a chance,

losing him just made the pain too much for us to manage;

though gone I love you since love was what you were made of.

Copyright by NewLife2008

A Loving Hand

I remember the day you slapped me before everyone;

sixteen and like my epidermis my stupidity is showing.

Talking as they’re giving a prayer made you come undone;

my embarrassment and skin now red and glowing.

Or at the age of five I wanted to show my vocabulary prowess;

in an alley a four letter word painted on a barn I repeated,

not thinking of the consequence that was soon to unfold

as my brothers ran to tell you I suddenly felt powerless.

I felt bad but not because of the Lifebouy soap I’d eaten

but for hurting the one who loved me whole-souled.

Copyright by NewLife2008