ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel

One Moment of Passion's Decision

Updated on April 27, 2015
Blossoming Woman by Emile Vernon
Blossoming Woman by Emile Vernon | Source

Restless love in darkness deep

The sneakin', tippy-toe'd steps crawlin', bawling to beastly breaths.

Gloating the bloated-batch of heathens, jesters, and visible deaths.

Ragged coat to cover his unloved, nameless, lover from filth be born,

To live forlorn to seldom hear his crippled voice torn.


Others' eyes, her passionate sighs, a stolen silk this morning.

While he toils the cursed clouds they taunt, and deception leaps on spider feet.

She spins and grins a mighty love that gains the fiery eyes above.

But truth be vain, the killer's name, and she sleeps a steady sleep.

Getting Dressed  by Charles Edouard Boutibonne
Getting Dressed by Charles Edouard Boutibonne | Source

Unseen plans written fair.

A dagger, a noose, a high-minded harlot on the loose

Rumors his ears net like mindless fish.

Still he toils, his skin full of boils, as bluebirds sing o'er his grave.

She spies her prey, a workman by day, stranger fools are but miles away.


And yet, he works as beasts die slowly, the coin she gets in his doze.

A stronger wine may cut the throat, but no remorse as we dine.

She caresses her lover's tongue and lies to a longing heart.

Not knowing the price of living on ice--ignoring the teeth of patient mice.

Springtime  by Arthur Herbert Buckland
Springtime by Arthur Herbert Buckland | Source

It's her time.

Ground quakes, her dragon wakes, and Hell is set afire at night.

Owls answer his dreaded questions, serpents dance her shadow tuned.

And water slowly, slowly carves her crypt hating that lifeless myth.

Grains, grains of eternal sand cut deeply her heart in his hand.


Deep, slippery liquid sounds drape the waiting grave staircase

Giving in, giving up, walking to death, losing her chase.

A light hitting a scope of time while pipers are drunken on lyrical rhyme.

He crawls from "his" sod, o' wrinkled, wrecked skin once young.

Truthful eyes the visions see.


Holding fire in death's pure pyre and she sails a stagnating sea.

One equality a judge to shear her pride,

Stunned, she knows painfully, truthfully, where "he" died.

Bowing low to black image, both locked, laughed and cried.

Passions live. Moments die.

Romping wild like the blood that flows silently, silently, until her whispers gone,

Lacing the masks she wears in gentle light to bridge unseen lust in harsh of night.

As moths and butterflies live in simplicity's bed. He cringes at the sight of her bowing head.

She hides herself in sickness fire--he listens to a dusty Heaven's choir.

Comments

    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    • kenneth avery profile image
      Author

      Kenneth Avery 2 years ago from Hamilton, Alabama

      Dear Akriti,

      Yes, I live in northwest Alabama. Marion County to be exact. I would love to meet you, my new friend, and talk about hubs, poetry, and other things.

      Thanks for sharing your sweet ideas.

    • Akriti Mattu profile image

      Akriti Mattu 2 years ago from Shimla, India

      I'd love to . You live in Alabama.Right ? Right now i'm in India but will move to your country soon :)

    • kenneth avery profile image
      Author

      Kenneth Avery 2 years ago from Hamilton, Alabama

      Akriti,

      Thank you from my heart, for such a warm comment.

      I wish I could do something for you, jhamann, and all of my beloved followers, but I am not financially-able.

      But I can pray for you all.

      You two and any follower of mine reading this can visit me at anytime.

    • kenneth avery profile image
      Author

      Kenneth Avery 2 years ago from Hamilton, Alabama

      jhamann,

      You are way too kind. Thank you so much for your selfless comment. I shall not forget this moment when I read what you said.

      God bless your life richly.

    • jhamann profile image

      Jamie Lee Hamann 2 years ago from Reno NV

      This is incredible, the kind of poetry I enjoy to read. Well scribed my friend, really well crafted. Jamie

    • Akriti Mattu profile image

      Akriti Mattu 2 years ago from Shimla, India

      Wow you're such an awesome writer. Looking forward to read all your hubs :)

    • kenneth avery profile image
      Author

      Kenneth Avery 2 years ago from Hamilton, Alabama

      Hi, bravewarrior,

      Thank you lots for your sweet comment.

      I do have a love for the Victorian Era as well as The Gilded Age. The women in these era's were actually more empowered than some women today.

      And that affords my respect for them.

      Have a peaceful night.

    • bravewarrior profile image

      Shauna L Bowling 2 years ago from Central Florida

      Wow, this is amazing, Kenneth! You have the heart of an old-world poet.