the moon is distant tonight,
but You are mere inches away
on the map,
and my heart could not
ache
more for You
now,
as we jump another hurdle,
another bump in the road,
and pledge again
to each other
eternal love,
regardless of consequence,
circumstance,
or happenstance;
would I travel those inches
to be with You?
of course I will,
since you remain
the biggest thrill of my life,
the most astounding,
amazing woman
ever to breathe tightly
at my neck;
mi amor,
I have said it before,
and I will say it again,
our love endures forever,
and now our journey
together,
once more
can begin anew,
Your heart in mine,
and mine in You.
April 4, 2010, for the Wifey.
Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
4/3/10
so no one's the wiser
clouds came down
and kissed the harbor
as I sat disconsolate
at our special spot
as the thunder grew
I looked around,
missing You
Your shadow
will be forever
in my glance,
even days like today,
when the rain
hides my tears
and the sounds
of the storm
muffle my sobbing,
so no one's the wiser,
so no one's the wiser.
April 3, 2010, for the Wifey.
Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
and kissed the harbor
as I sat disconsolate
at our special spot
as the thunder grew
I looked around,
missing You
Your shadow
will be forever
in my glance,
even days like today,
when the rain
hides my tears
and the sounds
of the storm
muffle my sobbing,
so no one's the wiser,
so no one's the wiser.
April 3, 2010, for the Wifey.
Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
the night that the moon exploded
we were laying there,
in the hammock,
in repose,
a soft July night,
as I recall,
when the orbiting orb
started to explode,
and as we watched
the searing fragments
fly out into space,
we were captured
by some momentary grace,
and as life became
fractured,
and the tides,
nonexistent,
all that mattered
was holding you close.
April 2, 2010, for the Wifey.
Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
in the hammock,
in repose,
a soft July night,
as I recall,
when the orbiting orb
started to explode,
and as we watched
the searing fragments
fly out into space,
we were captured
by some momentary grace,
and as life became
fractured,
and the tides,
nonexistent,
all that mattered
was holding you close.
April 2, 2010, for the Wifey.
Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
4/2/10
bleed for us two
Your anguish
snarls and hisses
like a cat
soaked by a hose,
and all the happy endings
that we dreamed of
lie crumpled in a heap,
like a hooker's clothes;
we throw five-sided barbs
at each other,
each hoping to discover
how fast our blood flows,
and for the life of me,
I really wish, somehow,
that heaven really does know;
You rant, and You rail,
and I accept the travail
as part of this territory,
our secret little story,
born in a seeping mist,
the product of a bucket list,
a trophy bereft of glory;
I watch You climb to the apex
of disillusion,
and sit mute, as You cling
to Your illusions, and
I am petrified, and You
sit still in the rising tide,
as it all washes over You,
and I stand frozen,
clueless about what to do;
I sit here late at night,
I confess, and wonder
if the fight, more or less,
is worth fighting,
and each night, the answer
hangs around my neck,
hell, yes!
You are clinging to a wreck,
and I have a life-preserver
that I have to throw,
that You have to know,
is meant for You,
only You,
so put it around Your neck;
I stand,
and crush happenstance
with the heel of
circumstance,
and I let my heart flow;
I will never regret
standing firm
standing for You,
my strength is my love,
which will always
bleed for us two.
April 3, 2010, for the Wifey.
Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
snarls and hisses
like a cat
soaked by a hose,
and all the happy endings
that we dreamed of
lie crumpled in a heap,
like a hooker's clothes;
we throw five-sided barbs
at each other,
each hoping to discover
how fast our blood flows,
and for the life of me,
I really wish, somehow,
that heaven really does know;
You rant, and You rail,
and I accept the travail
as part of this territory,
our secret little story,
born in a seeping mist,
the product of a bucket list,
a trophy bereft of glory;
I watch You climb to the apex
of disillusion,
and sit mute, as You cling
to Your illusions, and
I am petrified, and You
sit still in the rising tide,
as it all washes over You,
and I stand frozen,
clueless about what to do;
I sit here late at night,
I confess, and wonder
if the fight, more or less,
is worth fighting,
and each night, the answer
hangs around my neck,
hell, yes!
You are clinging to a wreck,
and I have a life-preserver
that I have to throw,
that You have to know,
is meant for You,
only You,
so put it around Your neck;
I stand,
and crush happenstance
with the heel of
circumstance,
and I let my heart flow;
I will never regret
standing firm
standing for You,
my strength is my love,
which will always
bleed for us two.
April 3, 2010, for the Wifey.
Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
4/1/10
unremittingly
the very best of my skill,
brought to bear,
could not put down in these lines
how much the inwardmost
innerds of me really care,
care, for the heart and the soul of You,
care for what You have got,
and what has been kept from You,
care about how You are now
being
tested,
to see if You have the right stuff,
hey, Ya know what?
not good enough:
I would never test You,
but he does,
just because
he can;
that's no man,
that's a squirrel,
seeking revenge,
trying to unhinge You;
eh, I give chase,
and You,
You postpone the race,
and I just resign myself
to second place,
but resolve to stay
steadily apace:
I'm not a dog who can
run fast,
but I am a mutt who can
really last until the end
of the game is called so,
by name,
and we all raise a glass,
to the smartest ass,
who learned how to tame You,
and how to blame You,
how to defame You,
and set You on fire,
how someone You came
to trust, after loving so much,
came to own You,
and then disown You;
I weep, most of the time,
for all the moments that
are Yours and mine,
knowing that at moment's end,
You will be under his knuckles
again; willingly,
and that makes me recoil,
instinctively,
since true love
is not borne of such,
it flows, however slow or
fast, admitting errors past,
but letting true colors
last,
unremittingly,
unremittingly, baby,
my sweet pumpkin,
unremittingly.
April 1, 2010, for the Wifey.
Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
brought to bear,
could not put down in these lines
how much the inwardmost
innerds of me really care,
care, for the heart and the soul of You,
care for what You have got,
and what has been kept from You,
care about how You are now
being
tested,
to see if You have the right stuff,
hey, Ya know what?
not good enough:
I would never test You,
but he does,
just because
he can;
that's no man,
that's a squirrel,
seeking revenge,
trying to unhinge You;
eh, I give chase,
and You,
You postpone the race,
and I just resign myself
to second place,
but resolve to stay
steadily apace:
I'm not a dog who can
run fast,
but I am a mutt who can
really last until the end
of the game is called so,
by name,
and we all raise a glass,
to the smartest ass,
who learned how to tame You,
and how to blame You,
how to defame You,
and set You on fire,
how someone You came
to trust, after loving so much,
came to own You,
and then disown You;
I weep, most of the time,
for all the moments that
are Yours and mine,
knowing that at moment's end,
You will be under his knuckles
again; willingly,
and that makes me recoil,
instinctively,
since true love
is not borne of such,
it flows, however slow or
fast, admitting errors past,
but letting true colors
last,
unremittingly,
unremittingly, baby,
my sweet pumpkin,
unremittingly.
April 1, 2010, for the Wifey.
Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
