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1912 In The Wee Hours.(-4-short poems)

Updated on March 25, 2010

1912 in the wee hours.

©-MFB III

And so we slept,
in the third

class berths,
deep in sweltering

stupors, dreaming

of America.

Never hearing

the scrape
that would

soon remove us.

But later
bloodcurdling screams,
and hopelessly
locked gates
woke us to swallow-

-the bitter salt,
of a poor man's truth,
washing over us
like tears
in Titanic ways.

 

 

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Between The Last Dance And Your Smile.

© -MFB III


Oh, how we danced

in the whirlwinds of love,
our bodies blending

in a blur of passion,
to the music of two

souls composed,
in a scale beyond

any soprano sighs,
or bass tones gravelled.


The staccato beat

of our hearts,
and the soft tinkle of

your whispers in my ear,
crescendo-ed to glorious heights,
as we swept through

loves many steps,
caught up in the

rapture of it all.


Two bands of gold

accompanied us,
bonding us far

beyond the lonely nights,
when we were just wallflowers,
drab specks in the

dark halls of despair.


Love was warm

melodies that

moved us,
in harmony

together as one,
but then fate cut

in and stole you,
mid-song pulled

from my arms,
leaving me stranded

amidst many other lovers,
dancing away in sweet bliss.

 

 

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Visitations.

©-MFB III
Sometimes sadness comes a calling,
then its eager arms embrace me,
on those days we used to hold dear,
how it tortures with cold fingers,
gripping my heart oh, so vacant,
of your prescence from its chambers.
I can always feeling it coming
as my shoulders gravitate,
to a posture filled with sorrow
over soul filled resignations,
that today, unlike two years ago,
will be void of your warm touch.
Only bittersweet clings to me,
like the faint whiffs of perfume,
captured in your old love letters,
boxed in dusty cardboard tombs.
And it brings an apathetic friend,
who stays with me awhile,
till I realize I don't care to,
seek your gravesite and leave flowers,
nothing there but trees and grass,
cold hard facts etched deep in granite,
where a multitude of sad souls,
waltz in sorrow evermore.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\


 

A Blue Lit Special.

©-MFB III 

Former Rockettes
faded beauty,
spins sad
drunken pirouettes
in the K-mart parking lot,
under sodium lights,
just past closing.









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    • Micky Dee profile image

      Micky Dee 8 years ago

      "but then fate cut in and stole HER"

    working

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