Truth spoke of the past
When northern lights
Were the new high
And patches on life rafts
Were a contribution worth noting
It told of days
Filled with sex and jealousy
But the demon sword-swallowers
Were the ultimate draw
A walk on the beach at midnight
Meant words were spoken quickly
And only then never to be uttered again
The luminescent waves
Would record the honey-filled poems
For their gift to live by
The quill speaks of the present
And finds solace in the memory of words
If the truth as she knows it can be written down
Then it stays forever true
So sayeth the brave lass
In possession of the dry pen
I am 20,000 leagues out of my league
And the time for goodbyes comes and goes
But the suffering lingers
Who will speak of the future when
Angels are so hard to find
I have met my share
And have a few perched on my shoulder
One who tells me of the past
And two who will show me the future
It will hold Grenache and frozen grapes
On a hot summer day
If they are lucky
And if it is true
That there is one man for every woman
And one woman for every man
I should like to snare the right choices
In a net of their choosing
So that happiness can be read
Even when the pen runs dry
The gift lives her own truth now
Truth drives the pen to run free
© 2010
Julie, your voice is so clear & strong, your pen always cuts me to the quick. Bravo again my friend, and yet again. LK
how you move me Julie!
Okay, Ms. Julie, so I read this poem again this afternoon post Joe’s & mea maxima culpa! gotta say that I so get it, & I’m blown away by the whole of it, the beauty of it & your brilliance!
xoxo
Julie! When did you write this? I never heard it before. You are a frickin’ genius. Really got to me, babe. Thanks for the emotional ride here.