Recommended reading on WriteHere: Kahi’s Chalice (2) – http://wh.tl/151118-3
Source: Kahi’s Chalice (2)
Tag: love
And Yes, I Still Believe in Love
And yes, I still believe in love
I still believe it’s there
It’s trembling out there somewhere in
the frosty winter air
Or trapped inside a mountain cave
from which it can’t escape
because it fell while running out
and gave its knee a scrape
Or floating on the raging sea
and looking for a light
to guide it safely home to shore
before it’s out of sight
Perhaps it’s on a city street
outside at a café
You didn’t hear it call your name
and hurried on your way
Perhap it’s somewhere crying for
it cannot find a heart
that seems to want to keep it and
not tell it to depart
So when we say we ‘look for love’
that happens to be true
I still believe it’s out there and
it’s looking for us too.
When I Walk the Streets of Paris (for Annie)
When I walk the streets of Paris
you won’t be beside me,
but you will be there.
And I will converse with you in
a terrible French accent to make
you laugh
A yellow rose,
the kind you loved best,
I will leave at the top of
the Eiffel Tower
Another, tossed into the Seine
to float downriver like a wish
now come true,
A bright and beautiful bloom
in the crepuscular evening
I will take pictures where your memory
will fill the empty spaces.
Your smile unseen, but felt.
In the bistro, I will flirt
with the waitress and ask her
if ‘oo-la-la’ is really a thing,
(and ask her to say it, even if it’s not)
I will visit the Louvre
and admire the
incomprehensible paintings
with indecipherable meanings
In the outdoor café
I will order two cups
of coffee, and
leave yours untouched.
And on the last night,
standing on the balcony,
listening to the melancholy melody
of an accordion
below in the courtyard,
I will toast us with a glass of red wine,
Celebrating the fact that we finally got here
And now,
we’ll always have Paris.
Within
Within the world
we wandered
and walked without
a care
Within our hearts
we reached
and opened them
so they were bare
Within ourselves
we wondered
at what the other
sought
Of that bare heart
within us
we offered without
thought
And so within our love
without the world
we left behind
Without a backward glance
we closed the door and
drew the blind
And deep within each other
we put our trust and fears
and then discovered real love
is not without its tears
And so without you
now I live within my memories
The tears within my eyes will stay
I’ll live without love, please.
And So What Shall We Say?
And so what shall we say
here at the end of day,
Here at the cold of fiery dusk
Before extending our feet
and hands
toward the hearty
crackling hearth?
The fire that blazes there
used to be
between
us
but has cooled
like the surface of
the moon,
and seems to have
fallen
down a crater
of its own making.
And so what shall we say?
‘Goodbye’ seems too trite.
‘Farewell’ is too polite.
And ‘so long’ has become
‘too long.’
Perhaps we shouldn’t say
anything.
And kiss.
© Alfred W. Smith Jr. 2015
Vigil
Recommended reading on WriteHere: Vigil – http://wh.tl/151026-4
Source: Vigil
Dead of Winter
Recommended reading on WriteHere: Dead of Winter – http://wh.tl/151024-11
Source: Dead of Winter
Winter Dreams
Recommended reading on WriteHere: Winter Dreams – http://wh.tl/151020-1
Source: Winter Dreams
I’ll Kiss You in Secret
I’ll kiss you
in secret,
in shadow,
on
moonless, starless
nights,
feel the heat
of fevered lips
wipe away the
scarlet shade,
taste the
honeyed, sugary
cluster of
your tongue,
and
twirl my soul
into you,
lost in
Love’s
light
© Alfred W. Smith Jr. 2015
Lanterns in the Rain
A sad, soggy,
cloudy night
marked the day
of your departure.
Your leaving
like a kiss my skin
was too numb
to feel.
We placed the lanterns
around the boat
and tied them
as the elders taught us.
Your folded hands
were clasped over the
black orchid
and the
white rose,
a gift for
the grizzled Gate-man
and
his loving wife.
With a gentle push
and a soft splash of
water against wood,
we set you adrift.
The lanterns danced
on the ripples,
as you once danced
with me.
And we watched you
slip into the current’s
waiting hand.
The lanterns
soon stopped their dance
and followed,
bright and solemn,
like young novices in white
bathed in the glow of
a temple’s sacred fire,
their simulated shades of sunlight
flashing
on the thick, twisty ribbon
of ebon water.
Even the night wood ceased
its chattering to give you
a moment of
silent, solitary honor.
And we, left on the banks,
your lovers and friends,
enemies and strangers,
marked how you changed
our lives
forever.
And as the sailing bier
rounded the riverbend,
and you were
forever lost
to sight,
With a gentle shower
the sky cried our tears for us.
And in the rain,
the lanterns’ lights
hissed and faded, extinguished now,
like you,
unable to be renewed,
And the light
came back to us
and took shelter
in our hearts, and warmed them
once again
with thoughts and memories
of you, through the years,
shining bright,
alone
against a
starry sky,
like a
lantern
set on a
high and windy
hill.
© Alfred W. Smith Jr. 2015
Beyond Panic 