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Open Poetry #34
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RSWells
Member Elite
since 2001-06-17
Posts 2533


0 posted 2005-02-11 02:48 PM



Loves’ window, there so quick, so brief
like rainbow colors, autumn leaves,
whose unaware grow sick with grief
and swear its lock was picked by thieves

Too few realize its opening,
which never yells or cries or sings,
yet to its spell all place hopes in
it fells the wise, the dope, the king

I knew it well as lusty swain,
too easy sell, its trust I’d gain,
so facile smell and musk obtained,
a shell dehusked, I’d leave it drained

What proof has raced from sharper tongue
that youth is wasted on the young?
What truth from chaste or harpy lung
forsooth would face you with hands wrung?

I, once cavalier and vain
whose hunts have traveled vast terrain,
can’t shunt unravelings of pain,
or blunt sharp recalls’ debt attained

I age alone, what time remains
is spent wishing love back again

POETS AGAINST THE WAR IS REDUNDANT

© Copyright 2005 Richard S. Wells jr. - All Rights Reserved
DavePage
Member Elite
since 2003-12-21
Posts 2917

1 posted 2005-02-11 05:10 PM


War is against people and not specifically poets or is it the other way around.

Subtle words in your words.

Dave

RSWells
Member Elite
since 2001-06-17
Posts 2533

2 posted 2005-02-11 05:58 PM


Thanks Dave for your notice.

In hindsight I might not have posted this. It is as busy as paisley in mardis gras colors with language both prosaic and archaic.

Think I'll still get my paycheck today?

POETS AGAINST THE WAR IS REDUNDANT

inkedgoddess
Member Rara Avis
since 2002-11-19
Posts 7392
Ohio
3 posted 2005-02-11 07:30 PM



Loves’ window, there so quick, so brief
like rainbow colors, autumn leaves,
whose unaware grow sick with grief
and swear its lock was picked by thieves


its still there even in moments, in glances, even if its not the kind a l6 year old
dreams of; take it when it comes and be blessed it comes at all at our age dear

Gentle Spirit
Member Patricius
since 2000-10-09
Posts 13989

4 posted 2005-02-12 04:31 PM


, once cavalier and vain
whose hunts have traveled vast terrain,
can’t shunt unravelings of pain,
or blunt sharp recalls’ debt attained

I age alone, what time remains
is spent wishing love back again

The funny thing about wishing for love and not finding it is, that it usually finds us when we aren't looking.

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