The mid-desirous winds that sweep,
Out of the mountain's steep,
Will join to cool the moonbeam fire
That washes off the steeple's spire.

For lean has only lean
And brings the summer's heated sheen
With boughs of broken ash now scattered
Out on slopes that never mattered.

I shall retreat to find my jade and ruby cup
Then make sweet love to rich red wine.
I'll take the bottle, fill my cup, (clear up)
And drain it till the goblet's love is mine.

Take all of me or none
So when you find that you are done,
Just wrap long arms around my waist,
And kiss me where, yes.....there, please taste
Of me right here behind the bower
Planting seeds for some strange springtime flower.

Alluring is your kind appeal,
Like blades of grass with silver dew,
Give glory to the way you feel
When gently I am touching you.
The moss and mold of surface earth
Have banner scents that fill my nose.
You're glory-bold and giddy-high in mirth,
With ballads written for those painted toes.

I ponder as I wander this old field,
Once fertile with a decent yield,
Now overused, some say abused,
Why growth and life have not been fused?

The butler has a sadness in his eyes
That I cannot dissect nor utilize!
Lonely I suppose.
I wonder if he knows?
That life is just a loving farce that grows.

A poet pleases with his heart-felt runes.
A singer pleases with his oft sung tunes.
A painter paints and pleases on the wall.
A man of age and pain may never please at all.

Let us take this bitter time,
As winds whip high the mountain vine,
To retrospect our lives in full,
Without advantage of position or of pull.
We may make major break-throughs that we use
And though our purpose is another game;
Remember all the cast and all the crews-
For then the world will flow for us the same.

I once was young and now I'm old.
But still I feel so brazen bold.
So, am I old or still quite young
Enough to sing, again, the songs I've sung?

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/20/2009 06:40PM by easyeverett.

Dandelions
Posted by: JohnnySansCulo (192.168.128.---)
Date: September 07, 2021 05:07PM


I disinter the lyricists again
When glumness rears erroneous
And I remember when

An Alpha and Omega that I heard
And that’ll be the day that I
Was freer than a bird

Tonight I’ll play the old songs, until then
Exhilarate and aspirate
And backwards count to ten

And so, I find it’s less than I preferred
but something something something I
Remember every word

Isn't it great when one poetic triggers a memory of another one written years before and suddenly we understand that two separate people, at two different times were filled with the same thoughgts and inspiration? That is the beauty of art from the primordal caves to "but something someting something I
remember every word."

Great writing Johnny, easy