Category: Poetry

Is she
beyond me?
Another love refugee
from behind a veil
upon a prevailing trail
that has led her to flee?
My very being
wholly captivated
With me
will she be
totally satiated?
Is she soul free?
Is she emancipated
from the old man
of cruel slavery?

As some men are driven
striven upon the winds
of heartless tradition
and blind confusion
to take
break
and consume
the fruits of creation
Leaving only a tide high
of destruction upon the ocean
of love’s shattered reflection
A lonesome wake
For heaven’s sake
take care
Beware
Naked and exposed
That’s the risk
she should never take

As for me
is she to be
my conscience
of compassion
My soul companion
clear through
to eternity?
Across the sea
of unbridled passion
with a love
you just can’t forsake
My lucky star of destiny
Is this predestination?
A burning fusion
you just can’t fake
This deal must be real
above and beyond
a relentless lust
As my very best
is put to the test
with a thirst
busting forth
from the depth
of holy oneness
How much more
can a poor boy take?
Boby and soul
in need of rest
for survival sake

Yet the very memory
of her first touch
that killer thrill
it chills me still
Her private intensity
kept behind the lock
of a mysterious key
Will she forever be
the unraveling
of a sweet infinity
Seizing and freezing
all my uncertainty
in the unfurling
of pure ecstasy
is she …
just too much for me?
Is she …
mine to take?
I’m too far gone
It’s way too late
Under the glare
of a falling star
Heaven can wait

Words & PhotoArt:
~ David B. Redpath © 2018-19

I am currently a volunteer worker
for Bloggers Without Borders (BWB).
A free range anthropologist by trade,
having absconded from the talons
of the World Trade Federation (WTF).

I have transversed, in verse,
this cosmos. Monitoring the
background static, emanating
from the Big Creation.
We are all on a road to somewhere.
Rather than an arrival
of bare survival, with a whimper,
go forth boldly with a clang,
and the loud bang of a victor.

Statement of Mission;
To submit, and submit again,
to the will of the Great Spirit.
And as light through a prism,
paint a picture, and pen a poem.