• Kingdom Of Light Kingdom of Dark

    Purchase your copy today on Amazon, just click on the picture

  • Garden’s of my soul now avaliable on amazon. Also avaliable, A Purse Full of Poems

    Oh how deep our passions rise, like a crushing incoming tide. From Gardens of my Soul.

  • Breccia (TO PURCHASE YOUR COPY TODAY just click on the picture)

    Irene and Ignatius have been published in many of the most respected print and on-line haiku journals. They reside in Sudbury, Ontario.

  • Become my fan on Wattpad, and read an excerpt from Keeper of the Sword

  • Melanie Marttila (A blog worth visiting)

  • The Last Sunset (A book worth reading)

  • Free Book Promotion

  • Come google with me

  • Adena

    great music

  • Click to play quiz

    Sorry, your browser does not support iframes. Click here to continue
  • Music, Music, Music

    Just click image and listen to some amazing music

  • John Rice

  • Blog promotion

  • submit your blog now

    You can add url to improve your site ranking Our is added under Mixed Genre Directory
  • Submit your blog here

    website backlinks
  • Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

    Join 2,658 other followers

  • Recent Posts

Foggy Night, Raindrops on the Window


Foggy night, raindrops on the window
candlelight, fire burning low,
here’s to our love of yesterday,
and to our dreams of tomorrow.

Baby I just don’t want to go
into the foggy night,
raindrops on the window.

Thank you for the glass of wine
and thank you for talking
about the good old times,
But baby
I just don’t want to go
out into that foggy night,
raindrops on the window.

You look so good, in the candle glow.
I just wanted to see
if you were still doing fine.
I’m sorry I took up
so much of your time,
But baby, I just don’t want to go
into that foggy night,
raindrops on the window.

Foggy night, raindrops on the window,
candlelight, fire burning low,
here’s to our love of yesterday
and to our dreams of tomorrow.

Baby I just don’t want to go
into the foggy night,
raindrops on the window.

Melancholy Blue


Oh how I remember
sharing sweet kisses
with you in the dark,
our moonlight rides in Stanly Park,
a glittering ball room New Year’s Eve,
the feeling of your soft body
as it gently swayed,
pressing tight
as the enchanting music played.
But now I must learn
to live in a world without you,
melancholy blue.

Laughing, holding hands
we left our footstep
deep in the shining sands
of English Bay
as we tried to
keep ourselves dry
from the rushing inward
of the tide.
But I let you slip away
because of my
foolish, foolish pride.
Now I must learn
to live in a world without you,
melancholy blue.

Perhaps
we were far too young,
to make,
such fantastic schemes,
Perhaps we
should never have listened
or believed
in the words
of the love songs
that were sung,
At least
that’s the way it seems
now that
we have come
to the very end
of our dreams,
melancholy blue.

We grew bitter,
grew old
before our time.
You went your way,
and I went mine,
rushing after
impossible dreams,
and using up our time,
chasing rainbows,
but never finding
that pot of gold,
only finding
a world that
had grown cold.
Now I must
learn to live
in a world without you,
melancholy blue.

Sarah of the Sunlit Sea


I called her my Sarah of the sunlit sea.
She was a woman of seductive mystery,
an enchanting child of the morning light,
a poem in living color, a midnight dream,
that always danced me through the night.

My world turned on her finger,
and a ring of gold bound us together,
and her name was written in the wind
with purple smoke and a burnished flame,
and I knew if she ever left me
my life would never be the same.

We danced to the end of time and back again
to the music of a violin played by a drummer
whose drumsticks were made from willow,
and whose mind was filled with madness,
and his songs were made from words
that no one could ever understand.

His fingers were gnarled and broken
so the music was just a token
of what it could have, should have been
just like things we would never have
or know, in our tomorrows dream.

She didn’t mind that things weren’t perfect,
because we lived beneath a rainbow,
where the snow was white, and sparkling
like the diamonds on her fingers,
like emeralds in the morning light,
like a dew drop on a red, red rose
and the smoke from our fireplace
always smelled like lilacs,
and the embers on the hearth always glowed,
and her smile always touched my very soul.

When she caressed me with her fingers
she sent shivers flooding through me,
and our hearts beat out our love story,
as we danced through the moments of our life.

The purple smoke has vanished in the mist
and time has dulled the burnished flame,
but her name still lingers in the midnights
and her face is still vision of my memory,
and until the end of time, her picture will hang
upon the hallways and corridors of my mind.

A Box of Chocolates, Melting


A box of chocolates
melting.
A dozen red roses
wilting,
and memories of
our first night together,
are hanging,
by a single
gossamer thread.

Our dreams
of yesterday
are fading
into the
fog of tomorrows
morning,
and tomorrows
dreams
will awaken,
and be still born.

The world turns
into shadows,
leaving sunlight’s
fading hope
so far behind.

But you and I
are still dancing
to the music
we once played,
deep within
the hallways,
in the corridors
and in the cupboards,
of our failing fading minds.

The drummers,
drumming
in the madness of
their moments,
in the wildness
of their imaginations,
drown out
our last love song,
and the violins
are weeping
with the willow trees,
and our hearts
are no longer beating
to the rhythm,
or the meaning,
that they did
so many years ago.

You have your closet,
and I have my bedroom,
where an empty cradle
rocks our life a way.

Pictures of our laughter,
have drowned themselves
in the mildew,
and in the
sour milk
of yesterday’s
bitter tears
and our foggy
fading memories
carry our disappointments
as they hurry,
to where
nothing
has a meaning anymore.

Lick the chocolate
off your fingers.
Put the prickly roses
into water,
turn the children’s pictures
onto their faces,
faces that
we no longer know.

A box of chocolates
melting.
A dozen red roses
wilting,
and memories
of our nights together,
are hanging by
a single gossamer thread.

Memories of Tomorrow


A heart that’s been broken
can never be mended.
A love that’s been lost
can never be found.

Love is more fragile
than a butterfly’s wings.
Love is far sweeter
than sugar plum wine.

I see your smile in the midnight sky,
and as my tears fall on the ground like rain,
I want to turn my sad world around,
and go back to yesterday once again.

Back to the days
when our love was new born.
Back to the time
when we built our dreams.

We made our own music,
and danced in the moonlight.
Love light was brighter than stars
in the blue of your eyes.

The mountains were taller.
The rivers ran deep.
Time stretched out past the sun.
Love was the moment,
and love was tomorrow.

But the world goes on turning,
and the years hide our memories.
Love fades like red roses
when the winter wind blows.

So I listen to my heart beat
out memories of tomorrow.
I listen to my tears fall on the ground.
I miss you much more
than I would ever miss living.

Memories of tomorrow are for the living.
Memories of yesterday belong to the dead.
Memories of tomorrow stretch out beyond me.
Memories of yesterday fade with the sun.

Sweet Moment of Desire


Your wine sweet kisses
burn as a fire on my lips.
The softness of your skin
seduces me with its promise.

I am filled with a burning desire
to know all of you,
to have you surrender
your secrets and your desires
to my needing of you.

As my hands wander
over your secret places.
As my tongue brushes gently
across the fullness of your breasts,
my hunger grows.

My need for fulfilment
becomes ever stronger.
I am consumed by the moment
that has overcome me.
I delight in your nakedness.

As we crest upon the sea of love
my heart beats faster.
The last wave of our desire
washes us onto loves timeless shore.

We rest for a moment,
wrapped in each other’s ecstasy,
wrapped in each other’s arms.

If we Should go


If we should go down
to the strawberry fair,
please wear a green ribbon
in your soft red hair.
Let me place a ring on your finger,
so all who come there,
will know that you are
my true lady fair.

If we should go down
to the strawberry fair,
I’ll bring a fine carriage
to take you there.
It will be drawn by white horses,
and have a silk cover,
to keep the wind
from your soft red hair.

If we should go down
to the strawberry fair,
we shall dance until dawn,
and if it should rain
there is no need to care,
because I’ll bring an umbrella,
to protect your soft red hair.

If we should go down
to the strawberry fair,
we’ll eat of the dainties
that are offered there.
We’ll drink our fill of wine,
and not have a care,
for you’ll wear a green ribbon
in your soft red hair.

If we should go down
to the strawberry fair,
we’ll be crowned king and queen
when we get there.
We’ll laugh and we’ll sing
and we won’t have a care.
So please wear a green ribbon,
in your soft red hair.

If you enjoy this poem, you may also enjoy the poetry in my book, “A Pocket full of Poems.” Own a copy today by clicking on the cover photo.

And I Remember


Oh how deep our passions rise
like a crushing incoming tide,
and love bursts forth
the way buds do in the spring,
and we listen to the night birds sing,
and I only have eyes for you,
and you only have eyes for me.

And I remember
And I remember
And I remember

Night and dark and rising moon,
love, like a rare orchid blooms
and we give ourselves
until there is nothing more to give
and we promise that we’ll love each other
as long as we both will live.

And I remember
And I remember
And I remember

Oh how quick our passions go
like the ebbing of the tide,
like the way a river flows
on its way to the sea.
I wonder when the morning comes
will you still feel the same for me.

And I remember
And I remember
And I remember

Dawn and grey and morning light,
and we hold each other tight,
cling to the memories of the night.

Oh how deep our passions rise
like a crushing incoming tide,
and love bursts forth
the way buds do in the spring,
and we listen to the night birds sing,
and I only have eyes for you,
and you only have eyes for me.

And I remember
And I remember
And I remember

From my book, “A Pocket Full of Poems.” To purchase your copy, just click the cover picture. There is a companion volume, “A Purse Full of Poems.”

Desire


When two
are overwhelmed
with desire,
consumed
by love’s
sweet burning fire,
time its self
becomes compressed,
until
the only sensations left,
are fast beating hearts,
and naked flesh,
pressed close
to naked flesh.

Let us Lay Together


Let us lay together
wrapped in each other’s arms,
as the sun goes to its rest.

And when the golden moon
smiles down upon us,
let me gaze into your eyes
and see the love you feel.

For your eyes are
the window to your soul.
And your soul
is filled with passion and delight.

Surrender to me
your soft red ruby lips.
Give me your wine sweet kisses.
Intoxicate me with the desire
that burns within you.

Let us both give into
the delight of loves
sweet raging fire.

Let us lay together,
wrapped in each other’s arms
as the sun goes to its rest.

And when the golden moon
smiles down upon us,
let me gaze into your eyes
and see the love you feel.

Friend me on FB, and please help support this blog by telling all your friends about my poetry. Thank you.

  • Keeper of the Sword

    It is often a simple thing, the roll of the dice, the turn of a card, or a chance meeting that can change one’s life forever. For Josh Campbell, and Morgan Connelly it was a seemingly harmless chain of events, a fight after school and performing a ritual that neither one of them believed in.

  • Fairy Time Ball

    now avaliable

    “Them things in my soup ain’t no chicken or potatoes. They have eyes, and they hop out of my way every time I bring a spoon close.”

  • Death Never Takes a Holiday

    Avaliable on Amazon

  • my visitors

    • 7,694 hits
  • follow the red link to read more from Keeper of the Sword

    Full of fear and excitement Keeper of the Sword (The Sword of Kings) Josh notched an arrow to the bow string, pulled it back to his ear, took careful aim and released the shaft of death, and before it reached its target, a second bolt sliced through the dark. (To find out more, just follow the link.)
  • Watch my Book Shelf

  • Follow me

    Follow Me on Pinterest
  • My Community

  • LOG IN

  • Blog Stats

    • 7,694 hits
%d bloggers like this: