Speak To Me Of....
Speak to me of,
unrequited oceans,
which end at distance shores
guarded by forlorn statues.
Who wait only to push
back long, lost love
into the waves of longing.
Speak to me of,
silken dreams of rapture,
where infantile amazement
strikes hammer blows
against the frozen, cynical heart.
Freeing the lonely and discouraged,
building blue, granite bridges of hope.
Speak to me of,
the settlement of sanity,
some intelligent solution
to the decaying of the soul.
Lift me up upon verbal wings
polish down my heart of ebony,
let me sigh in truth.
Speak to me of,
a different place and time,
wipe my eyes of present visions
stop the clock on Father Time.
Let me no longer fumble
with this constant tune of doubt,
let your words untarnish me, please.
© Paul Tristram 2005
Published in Linkway, Number Forty, May 2005
Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories and sketches published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.
Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories and sketches published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.
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