I don’t think that
If I write ten
Thousand or a hundred
Ten thousand of poems
Will I ever expunge
The weight of my
Broken heart and only
Upon my own death
Will I at last
Be free and finally
Find loves comfort modicum
I don’t think that
If I write ten
Thousand or a hundred
Ten thousand of poems
Will I ever expunge
The weight of my
Broken heart and only
Upon my own death
Will I at last
Be free and finally
Find loves comfort modicum
And like a prairie
Oak I see you
Full of promising comfort
Standing there far off
A tower of plain
Providing me my respite
From the heat of
Life from the rain
Of despair and the
Cold of my loneliness
Sometimes laying at others
Shading once or twice
Huddling offering me safety
Leaving you standing there
I do know that
Others also find their
Place with you and
I am but temporary
But for now and
Until I am ready
With you beneath you
I shall stay here
It is the day
Of God for some
Others worship on other
Days but I know
That you and family
Do this today together
And I will wait
Until you finish worshiping
Yours until I can
Worship mine which to
Me is you for in
You I witness all
Things marvelous and blessed
Every fire requires three
Things fuel oxygen spark
So goes loves flame
Fuel is the mind
Oxygen is the soul
Spark is the sex
This fire is the
Only way to survive
This wilderness called life
Sex is an expression
Whether it be noun
Or verb it identifies
Someone as something or
Carnal desire as action
Love is a color
An aura which surrounds
And beams which embraces
Or leaves like Autumn
Sex is the fall
Love is the orange
And yellow and red