Retired Professor of Literary Criticism/Philosophy/History. Retired USAR Lieutenant Colonel. Father of six.
Liquid dark is the predawn sight
That mocks my desire to pour the day bright…
Thick is the soggy air
That sucks away that melody fair
Tucked away deep within my heart
Wanting and waiting a new love to start…
All of heaven is the space
Where I will trumpet of the grace,
The tender nature of someone true…
Someone soft and silly just like you!
Wherever the wind blows at night
Liquid dark is the predawn sight
That mocks my desire to pour the day bright…
Thick is the soggy air
That sucks away that melody fair
Tucked away deep within my heart
Wanting and waiting a new love to start…
All of heaven is the space
Where I will trumpet of the grace,
The tender nature of someone true…
Someone soft and silly just like you!
The sea moans for me
With its frothing, foaming, undulating waves
It moans for me.
Broken shells
Armless starfish
Lie scattered upon the shore
And call for me to listen.
The sea moans for me
With its cresting, arching, tidal waves
It moans for me.
I dream, I dream, I dream all the day
To find the future of love that stays.
I dream to fall in love with a girl
to whom I can give my heart,
And right now I am dreaming that
it is you who makes us fall in love.
I dream to spend long nights talking
About the craziest, eternal things,
And right now I am dreaming that
it is you talking into my pillow.
I dream to have a friend with whom
I can share all my sorrows and all my joys,
And right now I am dreaming that
it is you laughing and crying in my arms.
I dream we reach the future
two hearts configured as one.
And, right now I am dreaming that
it is you, forever and only you.
i went for a walk today and as I went by a path so familiar,
i paused blusteringly content to lift my hat and warmly wave
to a far away friend. when this i did, there came exhaling a
frostily wind, my face abrushed with lightning strokes
bestowing memories long since sealed thirty years ago…t’was
only then and not before then only i thought of that day
quite identical to when i went for a walk as a young man
then and lifted my hat, extending high my hand just to
nighly wave to a friend i espied standing small o’er the
great distance affined…it was not the memory of the
familiar then, which made me feel today so strange to lift
my hat; rather, it was the factual me of yesteryear that
appeared so utterly, so recognizably, wholly avowed. like
the long lost twin of the me of the now, the wind brought
fresh the smell of the then…i went for a walk today and as
i went by a path so familiar, i discovered blissfully content
that the who i was feels no different than the who i became. i
suspect most people safe harbor these uncommon familiarities,
anchored trenchant in the deepest, deep of our profundities,
reminding us we are and always will be the very same…
who are you, flower of my delusions
blooming always in hidden seclusion?
your love casts shadows of pure illusion
and dreams that leave me now and forever
thinking and plotting in ways so clever.
a hope now burning fuels my endeavor
to lodge you deepest within the deep
chambers of my heart that eternally weeps
for you – the love I seek to keep.
your sweetness makes me weep…
i breathe heavy looking at your face
so, i pause and ponder only of you
at different times throughout the day
and am amazed how quickly
i have memorized your face
within the creases of my mind.
i see you when i shut my eyes.
i see you when they are open.
you always stand just in front of me
yet, far enough away i cannot touch.
i have to tell you something my love
something secret and hidden.
there have been others i have known
since the mother of my children died
but, it was always HER face i saw
no matter who or what.
now since meeting you, it is God’s miracle…
i only see you, only you i see…
and never thought i such a day to be.
Like a pond swollen with springtime rains
My thoughts are flooded with heated strains
That overfills my dreams with an ever dawning regret
Of continually seeking that new beginning and end met.
Though never clear the road to feelings surreal and pure,
Nor heightened hopes or aspirations absolutely assured,
Perhaps you would like to know that I most recently
A breach perceive, mayhap your dreams catch up with me.
when does love stop being love? not growing,
it turns with creaks and moans of regret
into something unwanted, unknown,
something shut up and away into itself…
something incapable of ever sharing again
the space of innocent love that once bound
two individuals as one, but now binds them
in barren spaces of hollow memories.
if only you could have still loved me today,
even two hours ago…now you bring it too late.
when does love pass the point of no repair?
at what vaporous, airless moment does it cease
to exist? when does it move beyond the shadows
of hope, beyond the time to live again
in eager hearts once warmed by its passion?
even two hours ago, but now, never again!
a lonely whistle blows
a distant space it marks.
from the point of being
and seeing it blows
to see how deep
the pain of its grind can drive…
it blows ever lonely
and the more it blows
the further its sounds deepen
those old scars beneath my heart,
where there does grind a place
forever marked by distant melodies
of lonesome lonely whistle blows.
The Poetry of Jeffrey L. H. Naylor
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