Hunger Poem by James Walter Orr

When the setting sun meets the western sea,
And the things of day take repose,
And the bees return to their honey hive
And abandon the last sweet rose;
When the evening breeze stirs the leafy trees
And the stars come out to shine,
The hungers stir deep inside my breast,
And within this heart of mine.

There’s a hunger that grows from the seeds of love
Planted deep within my core.
It gnaws at my heart and my soul and my brain
Like a tale from the days of yore.
It raises my hopes; reinforces my strength
With a lofty new ideal,
And defeats every negative thought and doubt
With a bond that’s as hard as steel.

There’s a hunger that’s born in the early morn
Of a night passed with little sleep,
In the burning groin and tormented flesh
Of the fantasies I keep.
It reinforces and keeps refreshed
All the pleasures we oft have known
And finds surcease in some secret rites
That our instincts must have shown.

There’s a hunger that’s born in the soul’s embrace
Of the things that are good and true,
That throws a nostalgia as pure as pain
In my memory’s magnified view.
It calms the heart and it soothes the soul
And bestows a sense of peace,
That sedates each and every errant thought
That could cause this mood to cease.

There’s a hunger that’s fed from the doubts and fears
Of my ego, that’s oft assailed
With the thoughts of the ifs and the ands and the buts,
‘Til it seems my life has failed.
When I blindly reach to clutch and hold,
Though I realize love must be free,
And force myself through sheer force of will
To recognize liberty.

These hungers add up at the type of rate
Known as exponentially.
I fear they’ll control my heart and brain,
And it’s not consensually.
It’s better to live bound with doubtful chains
Of emotion, delight and despair,
Than to never know the beasts that grow
In our own heart’s hidden lair.

© aka ezseeker