The Idolater

THE IDOLATER
By PoeticMeditations

Father, I confess I once bowed down
And worshiped at Love’s golden altar
Brought offerings of poems and roses
Daily my lips adored and praised her.

I worshiped the ground on which she trod
Every command with haste I obeyed
To her alone complete devotion
At her feet, body and soul I laid.

For my sin I now must dearly pay
For the wages for all sin is death
All my weary days in penance spent
No peace ’till I draw my final breath.

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The Flame of Passion

THE FLAME OF PASSION
By PoeticMeditation

Once I had lived for love alone
Burned with the flame of passion
High above earthly cares was borne
Drunk with love’s intoxication.

My daily bread and little else
Cared naught for any worldly gain
To her devoted – not myself
Sweet on my lips her honeyed name.

Heady days of joy exalted
Dark nights of insecurity
Sincerity cannot be faulted
Nor love in all its purity.

Such love, alas, could not sustain
To her a game she soon grew sick
Her affection turned to cold disdain
Leaving behind this smold’ring wick.

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Who Knows This Day What Chance May Bring

I would like to dedicate this poem to those who lost their lives in the Las Vegas shooting,
to those who survived, and to us who grieve and mourn.

WHO KNOWS THIS DAY WHAT CHANCE MAY BRING
By PoeticMeditation

Who knows this day what chance may bring
As morning’s light begins to break
For all we do is but routine
In which we all participate.

We think this day will be the same
Yesterday and tomorrow, too
Resistant is our lives to change
Although each day is born anew.

To live such lives in not insane?
For death may call for us this day
Leave all behind what is mundane
Our dreams forever swept away.

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The Garden of Delight (The Girl in the Bookshop)

THE GARDEN OF DELIGHT
(The Girl in the Bookshop)

She walks amidst the fecund forest
Wide eyes gazing over each bounded spine
Time slows down to a heart beat as they rest
On the exquisite feast they’re about to dine.

In slow, measured steps she makes her way
Wandering between the heavy, silent tomes
The world with all its cares now kept at bay
As over the virgin sheaves her fingers roam.

Imbibes the words – a succulent wine
Enters a garden, her private Eden
A paradise of thoughts rare and sublime
Partakes of the Tree that was once forbidden.

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The Poet Dreams

THE POET DREAMS
By PoeticMeditations

In the quiet, early morning hours
Before the day breaks into light
Secrets whispered in shadowed bowers
Imagination now takes flight.

When reality becomes a dream
And dreams become reality
Flowing gently in an endless stream
A sea of possibility.

To ponder, to marvel, and to muse
Into words distill pure essence
With this essence, the soul infuse
Delighting in the Nine-fold presence.

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The Eye of the Beholder

THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER
By PoeticMeditations

It seems I am but one of few
Who sees the beauty of this rose.
Pure light reflected in the dew,
Her petals lie in graceful folds.

The Queen of Blooms in my garden.
Of all, this one to love I choose.
Become now my tender warden.
My freedom I so gladly lose.

Will cherish all my fleeting days
This rose which now belongs to me.
To praise her beauty in these lays.
Though chained, my heart is now set free.

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The Romantic Redux

THE ROMANTIC REDUX
By PoeticMeditations

Give me the romance with all its lies,
Roses and the scent of fleur-de-lys,
Even pure lust lurking in disguise.
For what would life be without love?

What else is this life worth living for?
Making money or feeding the poor
Or watching the sunset from the shore?
For what would life be without love?

To die for fame or even wealth,
To give everything in search of health,
To live on an island somewhere south.
For what would life be without love?

So to me give love with all its pain,
Its bright sunshine and its sullen rain,
Its heartache and unrepentant stain.
For what would life be without love?

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