Thorns

Such is the threnody of thistles
That we are always hurting the ones we love
To be left only to love the ones we hurt
for we are always hurting to be
– Loved

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2007

Conversations with Clouds

As I lie here in this tall green grass
I court the company of cotton bears and cosmic bunnies;
therefore petitioning heaven for peace of mind.
That dare I die tomorrowm it would feel good to live today.
And so I share my thoughts with the sky -

Rolling white caps o’ stratus and quo
awash in rhapsody’s blue;
tall and proud for to be a cloud
is to be a rogue ‘tis true.

Wanderers, drifters, coasters o’ cumulus,
o’ what places have you seen?
For ‘tis not so much o’ where you are going;
but o’ where you have already been.

Though I have traveled many a mile myself;
there is knowledge that I require.
Would now you impart your wisdoms true
for this I do so desire.

For I see the end o’ my days this hour;
would it be too little too late?
Might I court regret that I am beset
to only tempt my fate.

As ‘tis not so much the things I’ve done;
but the things I wanted to do,
and ‘tis not so much the loves I’ve won;
but the love I wanted true.

The bridges I’ve burned are lessons learned
and wisdoms by which to live.
Yet the hardest coin ever I earned;
was the knowledge o’ how to forgive.

It would be resolution I have come to conclusion;
I have lived life as like a cloud,
and the only solution is restitution
for what sins I have endowed.

This burden o’ guilt that I bear to grave
be my only heart once broken,
and that is the love for you that I spake o’
but yet have never spoken.

As my thoughts grasp the sky wondering why
I let go o’ a love that should be,
I know now a cloud has a soul as a soul ‘tis a cloud
as a cloud ’tis a soul - to be free.

Thus I close my eyes and listen
- for her heart.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2003

Rafters

Such was the elevation
of my heart;
That it rode ‘pon the wings
of your words
Yet there was no “good”
in good-bye;
Thus we said good night
When all I needed
Was to hear you say –
“I love you.”

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006

Poetry

Such is the moment
before the kiss
That I linger in the silence
of intimacy
My eyes caress you
with delicate obsession
Smitten with tender
anticipation
To want you is to need you
I live to adore you
And yet I never knew
I could love you –
Even more

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2007

Lust

To want you is still to never know.
What it is to touch you, to hold you;
To wake up in arms of which I do not wish to stir.
As I am neither the light in your eyes,
nor the wind in your hair.
And yet you are the warmth in my arms at night.
Even that I can only hold you - In my heart

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Cold

As even in the distance I can feel you pull away -
that the warmth is fading from my arms,
and yet I am embraced by a tender despair for I love you still.
Powerfully, passionately, painfully -
The things you say, the things you do, the way you move.
For it is only in my heart time stands still
where I am left to ponder how long it will be until
- You miss me.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2007

Thistles

As the thorn
Is as fragrant as the flower
The irony of love is in the paradox of its pain
Thus I am drawn to this garden of thistles
Even as the rose is entangled within its own vine
that I cannot deny my passion
For its beauty

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006

Plum

Purse of passion
Fill my mouth with reward
As I lay my cheek ‘pon thighs pillow
Exploring the virtues of your smoothen skin
Thus mind you not these lips pressed
As it is the tongue plays ardently in your garden
Tasting the depths of sweetness
Divining for wine -
Sublime

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006

Cotton

Where are my words are they lost on the wind

that ours have suddenly gone still.
For I have found myself in the comfort of your silence
as your hold on my heart is my will.
Your sway is soothing your whispers are warm
as there is no place rather I’d be.
For surely as I am caught beneath your dreaming
I contemplate do you dream of me.
Yet if your dream is a wish of a kiss have you missed
then your dreaming is certainly true.
For of all the wishes of the kisses I’ve missed
Know I have dreamt them all –
Of you

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2007

Infatuation

Speak to me in colors
That tinted are the windows to your soul
Might that I marvel in the mystery
As it skirts ‘cross their pond
Yet stilled are the words; as they lie like copper
‘Pon this tongue tarnished
For I cannot find them enough to say -
“I love you.”

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006