The snow fell like white tinselled stars.
She was in love, inhaling of planet, Mars
Studying his angel, silken strands of hair.
Oh, how longingly, his warm love to share!
On Arctic-like ice, he did most happily kneel.
Tightening her white skates, with glistening
blades of steel!
Winter’s precious moon lavishly did shine
On these two,lovers, where the lake was frozen,
so romantically, divine!
Peerless moments like these, they oh so fondly
cherished.
Long after their children were gone, their candle
of love, stays vibrantly eternal.
And, no, not for an earthly second, will it ever be
extinguished!
~For Robert and his late wife, Vera, Hinshaw~
12/6/2022
True love is never lost
It is everlasting
It matures like the best wine
Does not age or wither away
Our Souls are forever young
Our bodies are our earthly homes
When the time comes for our Soul Mate to leave
And go to their resting place
They take a spiritual form
When they arrive at their destination
They patiently wait in peace
For their true love so that they may continue
Their journey together in everlasting love
Nevermore to part
What an adventure that will be
Stimulating her Emperor's savage
Aquisece defers demand of regal constraint
Furtive festivities provide passage
Into fecund gracing gait Autocracy ordained
Retreat from mastering insatiable masses
His thought voiding thaumaturge
Covers strident intellectual with molasses
Cater of paramour calms nerves
Unwound by compassionate exorbitance
Momentarily vulnerable assailant
Commits their heirs eventual inheritance
Renewed seasons abide nascent
Provisional Yazmin is his cleansing ocean
Advances invigorating strategy
Frequent fruitful visits denote her chosen
Monarchical surrender, sanctity
5th December
- Fertility -
(wily winding vines climbing collate grapes)
this stage became yours
and the reality has fallen apart
by the industrial silence
I am but a reflection of your shadow
gaslighted by your key-light
deprived of my enlightenment
there is no yesterday
and tomorrow has never existed
while the stone has its permanent role of aching
my part is the interim of now
Since I have nothing else to do,
I shall write a poem for you.
I’m glad I got to know you more,
I’m glad you did not close your door.
Someone like you, I’ve dreamed about,
and now you’re here, I have no doubt.
Your soft blue eyes that penetrate,
and happy smile, are no fake.
That you are you, and so you'll be,
and makes me sure, of you and me.
As I awoke, one Sunday morn,
I looked to see the clouds forlorn,
They spoke to me and started to cry,
I listened carefully yet don’t know why,
They softly cried letting the raindrops fall,
Down to the sidewalk down to the wall,
Thus, still no reason I could form,
Why on Sunday do they storm?
I woke up this morning.
I was feeling very low.
I did not want to get out of bed.
I did not want to go.
My body melted in my mattress.
My eyes they would not show.
My arms they would not move at all.
My, I did not want to go!
The rain was pouring down so hard.
The lightning struck I know!
Oh don’t make me get out of bed!
Oh please don’t make me go!!
This fertile womb lies still in wait.
Void of motion, sound and love;
A lonesome space of plaster and brick.
Worn carpets and marked walls
That surround this shell,
Are signs of seed now grown and gone.
This cell has served a family well.
More fruit within this void shall swell.