unfulfilled love - unrequited love - love relinquished - life unlived...

we all are gypsies of a sort wandering traveling through this life other lives space and time here there and yon on roads less traveled - this is a written and visual journal of my own travels - imagined and/or real - come along with me - we'll dance among the stars under the sun and over the moon - we'll share our stories of love around the campfire - come along -

poetry from the heart...


POETRY FROM THE HEART - my own words dedicated to all the words left unspoken, the acts left undone - the love unlived unfulfilled -

i dance with you...only in dreams...

tweet me, but tweet me gently, please!

Saturday, August 27, 2011

i remember you...



i remember you...

where was it?       
i cannot remember the place
when long ago a minute or so
i first saw your face
but i cannot forget you
the way your eyes touched my soul
with never a spoken word
and made me feel once whole

i cannot forget you
the way your smile caressed my heart
with never the touch of hand
i knew we ne’er would part



~
               

Sunday, August 14, 2011

the thought of you...

the thought of you
possesses and caresses my heart
how could it be that we had to part
leaving us both broken and blue

the thought of you
torments and tortures my soul
how could it be that time took its toll
making its way long overdue


the thought of you
teases and taunts to my core
how could it be we had to say no nevermore
leaving forever shut loves sweet door

but not
the thought of you ~

Saturday, August 13, 2011

you let me be...



 



you
let
me
be
the things i’d long forgot
held me close untied the knots
without a scheme without a plot

you gave me back
who i was before
and didn’t know no more
the one who’d shut that door

you got me back on track
of who i used to be
who i was to me
the gypsy wild banshee

you let me be
the
me
of
me
.
.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

is there...
























is there no time for us
that we must love and part

is it a sin for us
to love with both our hearts

is there no way for us
to be in this life’s cusp

is there no place for us
before we turn to dust

.
.
.