The morning is moist with ocean spray.
The islands, they twist around the bay;
and across them all, my eyes have scanned -
the rocky cliffs and the buttes of sand.
I almost think it an Irish isle.
Such beauty to make the heart beguile.
Sunrise stain on a listless ocean
serves to add to the magic potion.
A boat is docked alongside the pier.
A woman and man are standing near.
He is setting sail to ports unseen
upon the gilded Emerald Queen.
Standing on tip-toes to give a kiss,
she cries while pretending unfelt bliss.
Others have perished over the years.
They left these isles for happier spheres.
And I know the pain on lips unstirred,
the hurt behind that familiar word -
the word 'good-bye' and all it implies
and the heart that bleeds in streaming eyes.
He holds her hand as he walks away.
His linen shirt as bright as the day.
At last he lets loose; this is the end.
His sandy blonde hair blows in the wind.
Bright blue waters open to the skies.
He is gone, and she kneels as she cries.
I can't help but watch and weep at heart.
It's always sad when lovers depart.
Dark shadows fall, but they never stand.
They fall in my heart and in my hand.
In the sky, a milk-watery moon
and a thousand star-lights sweetly strewn.
My lover left some five years ago
when sunlight had a heavenly glow.
I guess we were never meant to be,
and some souls are just meant to be free.
The aches, the pain - a peculiar case.
Love is the flaw of the human race.
I'm in love with one but bound to none,
like the moon yearning after the sun.
I'm like a player before the keys
who plays a tune that is meant to please;
but keys are silent within the heart -
always silent when lovers depart.
the measureless azure the gold of day found their way into your echoing silence beautiful – M’am Respects rehan
Well hello, Linda, I just found you again, I guess. I was looking for FROM BEHIND, but do not see it here yet. Did I ever quote the dedication page to my secondt book of poetry, LOVE POETRY? It reads, and I quote, ...Dedoicated to Maya Angelou, who put me onto some of the secrets of Edgar Allan Poe's writing, and to Linda Marie Van Tassel who showed me how to add a little spice to it all, and to Megan Lankford, whose Photographs are the inspiration for much of this poetry. I will send you an autographed copy if you let me know where you would want it sent. Love always to a beautiful poet, Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet.
Love is the flaw of the human race. I'm in love with one but bound to none, like the moon yearning after the sun....../// superb and fantastic expression
A masterfully crafted poem, dear Ma’am Linda....10+++
I'm like a player before the keys who plays a tune that is meant to please; but keys are silent within the heart - always silent when lovers depart. beautiful comparison with the silent keys that play the music. love i s a mystery. tony
Great narrative, story telling from observer to being the lover involved... your sadness was effectively projected and felt by this reader. Thank you very much for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I enjoyed this poem so much I can not tell you...how stirred I was with familiar pain