Black Flamingo
The steam that rises from my dark heart
Leads to tempt the fates.
I speak of a love strange and fair
For this woman I fell for.
She was to be my morning
I came to be her night.
Together our passions ignite
Our fires burn the heavens
And torch the furnaces of hell.
Apart I wither without her embrace.
The swamps sound of bitterness
Around this castle keep
Where my soul sleeps weary.
The twilight abounds in shadows
Dragons, maidens, and knights of our realm
The mysteries that surround my mad dreams
Where my love keeps her safe.
Hides away from the emptiness
That scrapes against the trellis
Of these garden walls.
How I long to see her in her favorite gown.
Often I think of our love as a fable
I heard as a child.
The Crane and The Flamingo
Their hearts forever young
Making a nest in the still waters
In a swampland oasis surrounded
By a mountain serene decent and fair
Our offspring a black flamingo
Only a parents love, would endure.
A strange world forever guarded
In the land of forgotten dreams.
She's still my darling, my hope
A prayer answered so long ago.
Our child has grown and left the nest
To make his way into horizon's unknown.
Where love remains immortal.
I impatiently wait for the twilight
So I may taste her kiss,
Caress her golden hair,
And feel her warmth again
In my darkened plight.
Love and Beauty
In the corner of my favorite library,
romance gleams in still life photos.
I met her there in romance classics.
Her skin was the color of gold in morning
casting her shimmering blue eyes.
Her hair long and red glowed
the color of the sun in spring.
High art I was told was love and beauty
intellectual pursuits and the romantic
never went hand in hand.
I and her were bound in the same book
I took her for my goddess of desire.
My heart races, veins throb
pulses beat quick as maracas
whenever she's near.
Our library romance,
is simple, elegant, gaunt, sophisticated.
If I could, I'd throw my chivalry to the dogs
take her and leap into a pulp novel
feel the savagery of our passions merge
in all its splendor
whether in a Edgar Rice Burroughs story
or hard boiled detective novel
or words from a poets quill
she's love and beauty incarnate to me.
)
