... Applachia ..., ... love ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... relationships ...

she talks of love

life is ebbing
and with it comes
clarity

women have spoken
to me of love
for half a lifetime

i have mused it
and studied its
corners and edges

analyzed its
emotions and
measured what boundaries
i could find

but it was not
until
she spoke of love

that i felt
the blood burn

when love
and body
and lips
collide

she talks of love
like its her
soulmate
and it is,
love was
made for lovers,
it is hers
and she is mine.

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... Applachia ..., ... Autumn ..., ... beauty ..., ... home ..., ... life ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ...

waiting to Fall

ole buttermilk sky,
last dregs of Summer
hang heavy from the leaf.

people start to say,
“I’m ready for Fall”
after the blackberries

have all burned up. wet,
fat clouds float flat-
bottomed across the

sky and we daydream
of dark nights and
cool, crunchy leaves
on the sidewalks.

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... addiction ..., ... Applachia ..., ... beauty ..., ... country ..., ... girl ..., ... kiss ..., ... L.F. ..., ... life ..., ... love ..., ... pain ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... relationships ..., ... Spring ..., ... summer ..., ... summer solstice ..., ... the South ..., ... the sun ...

never looked back

i found her
on the blackest night,
she was a soft
voice whispered ‘neath
the door.

i saw her
in sweet Georgia sunshine,
she was the Spring
wind tangled in
my hair.

i felt her
once
and never looked back.

Standard
... Applachia ..., ... Autumn ..., ... beauty ..., ... country ..., ... life ..., ... love ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ...

the breakup

i beheld the perfect still
of morning, once; was when
the first crisp fleck
of Autumn wind crept up
her softening skin. the
tautening leaves all whispered,
hushed gossip erupted all
around – vibrant Summer
had had his fill,
he was leaving.

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... love ..., ... poem ..., ... poetry ...

Cold is coming

in late August,
beneath my family Oak
she pledged her
soul to mine. her whispers
i found in creaking
branches. another Winter long
gone, another hastily approaching-

buried in the muggy heat
sleeps the chill of her heart,
her gelid blood seeps beneath
the skin of the wind
in veins of October
muscadine, in the
juicy tendrils of
the Autumn scuppernong
dripping down the edges
of her perfect smile.

we both know Cold is coming
and like our tree, we shall shed the
foliage of the past – we shall
die in acorn graves, resting
comfortably in our coppice quilt
until Spring.

when all things are made new.

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... life ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ...

le dessous des cartes

I am awash
in resplendent green –
Summer has arrived
again
and for the first
time in forty-one
years I do not
know where
she is leading –
she will enervate
my words and bait
me with sticky
air; thick, wrought up
pall-bearers aligned
like Stars of heaven
leading a procession
of one,

leave no stone
unturned in this
love affair,

where the Sun is at it’s
farthest from me,
my persistent tilt
towards the beams
is all that remains
of nostalgia,
so I shall rest
for a time,
in splendid
Arcanum arcanorum.

ignorance
is bliss so
we sing
about the
unsung.

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