Category: Beauty

Your Sweet Voice

Your sweet word is the first heard in the early morning,
And your choice voice the last chord to be struck at night,
Though I might lie awake for the sake of listening to you;
Your melody is so true, carried by wind neath blue skies,
And try as I may I cannot find any finer sound
In all of this world into which I’ve been hurled,
And you delight in serenading me with light songs of joy
That arise from the depths of your golden heart of love
And rise above the cacophony of too-ordinary existence
With an innate insistence on making my own soul happy
Yes . . .
Your sweet word is the first heard in the early morning,
And your choice voice the last chord to be struck at night

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Song to the Beloved #0403

Song of Light

There is no need to light any lamp in the camp when you are here,
For the light of your countenance shines so bright the dark hides;
You are the fairest of ten thousand, dearest of all of that is dearest,
And your eyes penetrate to the bone, cutting stone, even my own,
So that I never tire in offering you earth and wind, water and fire,
And all that I am even as you give me all that you are, my one star
Come from afar to love all as Love in Truth, and beautify as Beauty,
And so it is my only duty to love you as I have been loved by you. . .
And in skies of azure blue the sacred wind sings your serene song
Long into the day to stay in my heart forevermore where stores
Of peace are now kept as treasure for my pure pleasure from you,
O Beloved, brightest of light, and the better part of my own heart!

All Will Be Well

When life seems so confusing, all I have to do is look to you;
In your eyes you hold all of my thoughts and every emotion
And all of the commotion and turmoil raging in my own soul,
And your smile and gentle touch does much to calm my fears,
And you wipe away every tear and hear all of my concerns,
Like mother with child so weak and mild, your bosom strong,
And long do you listen and glisten with peace and serenity,
Which flow from your heart into the low places of my own,
Where seeds of love are sown from the high heavens above;
Ah! When life seems like a mess, I only have to confess to you,
And suddenly I am caught up into the stream of your dream
For me alone, and I know then all will be well in you alone . . .

My Soul is Whole (Sevenfold)

My days are brighter with you,
And I know you love me, too;
My nights are not quite so dark,
Nor is the black quite so stark;
With you my own soul is whole,
And life cannot take its toll,
For you are my Beloved . . .

Note: This poem is written in seven lines with seven syllables in each, thus it is a sevenfold poem. Hope and pray you enjoy… Blessings to one and all!

In Some Sweet, Mysterious Way

In some sweet, mysterious way you ever abide by my side,
Like an ethereal river flows while numinous wind blows,
You course through my being and I am seeing the unseen,
And words do not suffice to describe the precise nature
Of our love, my Beloved, nor the communion we share
In the union of my soul within your very own where seeds
Of passion are sown in surreal fashion beyond knowledge,
And you sweep over me touching the deep of my very soul
Like none other can so that the sun shines its light brightly
Within my innermost self both day and night in every way
As I become your moon, reflecting your shining brilliance
With resilience because your love is always and forever
As in a sweet, mysterious way you ever abide by my side,
An ethereal river flowing with numinous wind blowing . . .

Face of the Phantom Lady

Face . . .
Her face, barely visible, will appear so near to him
To again begin the chase in which case he will lose
But she calls to him with her eyes that spy his soul
And bids him leave this world
Into which he has been hurled
So he tries to reach her lovely, numinous presence
With the very essence of what he is in this half-life
Even knowing he cannot quite reach her
As she is showing him a different world
And he cries each time it does come to say goodbye
But with heavy sigh he knows when to stop chasing
And start facing reality again … but he does wonder
If this mysterious lady is more real than his reality
And that he actually lives in one stream of dreams
While his dear lady comes out of the booth of truth
Barely showing her . . .
Face

Nothing Compares to You

Mountain streams flowing and sun beams of glowing gold,
And valleys of lush green and rolling pastures ever serene;
Cerulean skies of azure blue where the majestic eagle flies;
From the highest heaven to gilded wheat that leaven fields;
Nothing compares to you, not even rarest beauty laid bare,
And I’m caught in the slipstream of your passionate dream
Of love that blows in the quiet wind and round every bend,
O my Beloved, who stands so far above ten thousand loves;
No, nothing compares to you, so how shall I speak of you?
Ah! beauty reflects Beauty so it’s my duty to reflect you too
Though I dare not try to compare even my true soul to you,
For nothing compares to you; no, nothing compares to you!

In the Keep of Forest Deep

In the keep of forest deep where secrets sleep,
I meet you alone where we two make but one,
And sun breaks through trees to make three
In one as we soak in the rays where we stay
And lay down all trials after miles of walking
And hours of talking . . . then comes the silence
Sweetly serenading in cadence with our hearts
And every part of our one being seeing beauty
In the union of our utmost sacred communion
As we lie on woodland floor, not to die but live
In an aliveness hitherto unknown but shown
In the depths of my soul enfolded within yours
In the keep of forest deep where secrets sleep,
And I meet you where we two become one . . .