Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I'd never seen her face before,
I never let me look;
perhaps I feared I might adore
the pages of her book.

I'd never read the stories writ
in lines that frame her eyes,
parentheses that somehow fit
her smiling lips' surprise.

But when she paused to answer me
when I'd proposed to her
I lingered on the poetry
that in her face she bore.

And that for me's become my home,
-- the fortress, icon, rock --
where immortality has come
replacing love for clock

that in her Yes I'd understand
salvation's guarantee:
to see love's face, to hold love's hand
is life's ubiquity.

Very good poem.

For him
I have died a million deaths,
I have traveled through time and space
never reaching my destination,
only my hands can express that innate
emptiness my heart holds,
only his poems can speak of the irreverent Yes.

~A

What a beautiful love poem, Joel ...

in simple form
love is never really for some
other which is disconnected from you
detachment discernment-obsevation
while my flesh burns
sweat cums from places i did not know i had
the threat of never feeling this again is worth
an almost milatant defense system
below the radar of broken hearts, bad starts=rom

ance rolled
like a drunken fool in the city
boasting of a place more embelished then visited or charmed
up for capture he sees the love like a bird in flight
is terrified of any of her might
the light the soiled stain of a birthmark
never to be undone
weaving in and out on her loom
the stories that never left the room