Morning Light

My love lies sleeping in the morning light,
her hair shining like fire,
her face at peace, no battles left to fight,
to that simple happiness I aspire.

Her dreams and sorrows she shares with few,
and carries quietly her sadness and joys through the years,
but her smile and eyes are bright and new,
her laughter like sunlight scatters the mist of my fears.

At night, alone, I gaze at the dappled sky
and think of her sleeping in the morning light.
The rhythm of her breathing, the curve of her thigh,
my love, my dear, my great delight.

Say Something Profound

I'll start with some of my poetry, to get my brain limbered up.

Say Something Profound

Say something profound,
they always say,
as if you can pull out deep thought
like a party trick,
a cheap display over which
they can fawn and praise.

Like the comedian,
asked to "say something funny,"
your polite smile hides annoyance and exasperation.
As if beauty could be conjured on demand.
As if art could be fashioned by simply
dipping a brush in paint and drawing it across a page.
As if you can open your mouth and out will spring
the wisdom of the Muses, echoing from
the towering Parnassus of your intellect.

If only it were that easy.
But if it were, would it be as precious?
For beyond the bright and terrible creations
that spring, sometimes, unbidden,
you are, after all, a person.
And that person would sometimes prefer
to watch a movie on a Sunday afternoon,
than to be the genius from which
something Other springs.

Virgin Post

Well, here it is.  Per Willowbottom's urging, I'm going to begin this blog as a motivational tool to drag myself out of a morass of unproductivity and start writing.  Posts #2 and beyond will contain more pith.  But this is a start.