Four Poems by Myrtle Thomas

 

Invisible Realms and Regions

 

have you not known that I buried your kiss -

in my heart and bound it with the fingers  -

of my memory ?

no dreams nor wings of flight can carry it away

time has grown my love in the sunlight-

in the depths of moonlight there is no shadow-

of fading.

 

even my love , in the rumblings and whispers of my heart

there are things that remain the same

my love you still walk with me through the seasons

lifting our feet while making footprints

O' if I could blend our sighs and whispers they would-

resemble the universe of stars and lunar waves of silver.

 

O' that first kiss that felt soft but thunderous in my body

I still hold that touch deep within my breast

in the roots of my soul you are still the wind that lifts me -

pulls me through the destiny of life and love

have I told you that your eyes are my sun and moon

and in your arms lies my strength to survive life's perils !

 

words that are spoken and unspoken are always filling our eyes

those quiet knowing looks that speak without sound

as they cut the sunlight and moonlight and blend two souls -

two bodies that thirst and hunger for one another

two stars colliding in the sky and burst into fiery flames

have you not known that I buried your kiss-

in my heart and bound it with the fingers

of my memory?

Borders of a Bedroom

 

when those tangled hours find me

without sun or moon

when the night speaks to me

of the vast empty horizon without borders

it's then that my eyes grow heavy with tears

knowing that my ears hold only silence.

 

the fullness of being empty is a burden

I can still see you in the distance

the light reflecting your image in the mirror -

of my eyes - speaking to them of strange things

that spring from the depths of my pillow

I'm warmed by the darkness of a distant realm.

 

the memory of wasted moments could fill my soul

are like burning stars and thunder rumbling within me

what strange dreams find my sleeping eyes !

thinking of the kisses resting on my lips and the curve of my neck

where you echo still .

 

Where Natural Light Wanders

 

there are so many kisses resting on the river

waves rising and falling with sun and moonlight

leaves and snow mingle with the fire of sunlight

while the icy fingers of winter cover the face ,

of the rivers.

 

is there anything lonelier than the moon embracing ,

the barren trees standing in their own shadows ?

gone now are the red branches and golden crowns

even the autumn sky weeps and rumbles in sadness.

 

time has no memory but remembers everything

but like the air it's invisible to our eyes

as though it walks forward and backward with soft feet

maybe while holding hands with the sun and moon

the stars as eyes.

 

I wonder if the seasons are sewn together with silver ,

and golden thread - maybe by the hands of the universe

with the piercing needles of starlight woven between ,

each season like a patchwork quilt washed in rain and tears.

 

 

A Daughter of Eve Born From The Morning

 

there seems to be a certain dance ,

between the shadows turning and twisting

like a courtship and marriage of day and night

of how the sun and moon waltz in heaven.

 

there seems to be a celebration

seen in the expanse of starlight dancing

of the ocean rolling on the dance floor

of rivers tumbling in their unmade beds.

 

there seems to be weeping willows dancing

and great pines swaying with the music of the wind

the talents of a bird singing from the tree tops

even the white ethereal clouds are in attendance.

 

let the night shine in its darkness

let the morning drown in its light

let the moon cool my eyes and flesh

let the sun warm  the footstool of earth.

 

these two shall dance for eternity

hovering above the wind's arches

carrying the whiteness of light

carrying the darkness of night.

 

some have seen and heard summers on the sea

and seen the night resting itself under the moonlight

so it is that I've failed to see with stars living in my eyes

my mind listening to the singers in the wind ...... as I dance.

 

Inspired by Walt Whitman's poem  (  Out  of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking )

Myrtle Thomas lives in the USA and writes contemporary poetry. She is retired from a large manufacturing company. She has been published in “ The Writers and Readers Magazine “  “Otherwise Engaged Literature and Arts Journal “ Lothlorien Poetry Journal “ Lothlorien Poetry Blog “  “ Masticadores USA “ “  Chewers Masticadores Word Press “ and  “Ink Pantry”. She self published four poetry book and is a member of Allpoetry .com , Penn name Blue2U.