Quixotic Poems - Poems about Quixotic

quixotic idealism face of positivity not easy to extinguish...

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He had a quixotic attitude a true idealist who believed in possibilities the possibility of world peace he spoke of this often a spectacularly optimistic believer in goodness he could have started a cult if he had wanted to do so a leader who inspired those lucky enough to know him he passed at an early age but left a marvelous legacy he was a fabulous...

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("Dark Pool Nebula #3", 2011, original oil) Tilting at Windmills In this modern world, in these modern times adventurers of the spirit are looked down upon at least among my family and friends. It’s all good if kept at a distance, but too up close and personal and it quickly becomes uncomfortable. This is the nature of madness after all, easy to admire or...

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In a world where dreams are rakish and quixotic, Where quiddity seems extravagantly chaotic, A chivalrous soul dares to be different. With a heart that beats fervently, so magnificent. Romantic notions dance in their minds. A visionary quintessence they find, Chimerical dreams they hold dear, Preposterous, dreadful tracks they fear. Age is just a number, they say. Irrelevant in the pellucid pursuit of their...

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Margarite has hot tamale sauce swarming in her veins. She was not organized, tidy, accurate or neat, The bartender hired her during the monsoon rains Because her beauty and sassiness brought in men off the street. She danced like a goddess from another country or time Otherworldly and exotic she brought in an appreciative crowd The bartender knew that men...

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quixotic dreamer constructing silver windmills when she looks at him rose colored glasses optimistic attitude giving them a chance forever unite a starry eyed realist rebel who needs love...

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can you tell me ... where have true hearts gone - bosoms that heave with thrums of passion and mystery? could it be these antediluvian eyes are just shortening shadows - daubing change and momentum with the dark shades of what was? I yearn for a kindred soul of that rare ilk - one I could offer up a word to in appreciation, who would need...

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We tilt at windmills that do not turn as ...

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The slumber is over… As weary blindfolds vaporize, A look may suffice, To see the rolling dice, The ice-crunching teeth, Hides the smirk beneath. S.E.C.O.N.D.S Did I miss the firsts? The winged chariot is in no hurry! Twisted threads, The haunted puppets, Dancing, strolling by With the morbid tune Of white and black keys Banged on by the wrinkled claws. Dewy nails and needles, Piercing my flesh, pinning down my chest, The...

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What, exactly, am I to understand     about your behavior? There’s a desperation in your movement     that belies your grace as you scan the pub for your savior     with that smile-cemented face. My glance shifts to new perspectives,     discontent cycles anew when trying to seek meaning in the     cheery curve of your eye. I used to long to get to know you     before losing all reasons why. In...

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Quickly, sword in hand, he dashes to the battlefield, Undaunted by booming cannons aimed right at him, Inured to adversities far greater than his tiny shield, Xpecting to wage his lonely fight, though not to win. Only his soul knows what he really and truly wants, To be a worthy foe or just an annoying mosquito? In the end he is...

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