Scribbles from a Word Slinger (part four)

Well we’re on part four already and its about time I introduce a touch of romance to the ‘Slinger’ chronicles.  In my writing I find it particularly difficult to write light hearted or romantic scribes so please enjoy …   

 At Last
 Crying times are feelings past as butterflies now play, 
 Yesterdays been laid to rest, the future starts today,
 Lonely men from ballads sad have sailed into the calm,
 Whispered romance plays the breeze encapturing its charm,
 For now you see I stand here tall – a once forgotten man,
 Alive once more, a touch, a kiss, the caressing of a hand, 
 The plan once set becomes a maze, as paths are mine to take,
 The sweat of hand, the beat now skipped, these signs I cannot fake,
 Where heartache laid its lonely soul now proudly doves do fly,
 Where tears once fell amid dark clouds now sets an evening sky,
 From dawn to day from whence I came from set to rise and fall,
 Come hands held tight and sacrifice from sinful daring fools, 
 Yet all I am is what you make and whole I feel with you,
 So left there must be only this to say with love – I do.
 
 The Crossroad 
 Passing moments play soft through the night,
 Romantic whispers turns dreams into sight,
 The walking of lovers through lanes and through souls,
 Wake thoughts and emotions never been told,
 The journey continues through eye and through heart,
 With hands interlaced now this juncture can start,
 A soft slow caress, a meaningful stare,
 A droplet of sweat, a heart pounding scared,
 Ahead the path ends and the crossroads begin,  
Turn back,  
Road to nowhere,  
Next level, 
Or sin.
 
 What Is?
 What is to dream – an enchanted tale,
 What is to live – and never to fail,
 What is to laugh – to face all your fears,
 What is to cry – a saddened tear,
 What is to speak – the truth can free,
 What is to lie – when truth won’t see,
 What is to love – and begin to breathe,
 What is to hurt – when love does leave,
 What is to know – and never to learn,
 What is to fear – and always turn,
 What is to write – and leave your mark,
 What is to see – when all is dark,  
 What is to age – when leaves do fall,
 What is to die – when angels call.
 
Latino777 – It’s our time down here
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Posted on June 7, 2011, in Poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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