from distant dimlit corners
of late night rally grounds
etched white by full moon pallor
a hand carved flute resounds
...
anachronistic trilling
draws knowing private smiles
around some far encampment
red cedar flute beguiles
...
enchanting and compelling
it breathes out deep souled groans
lifts hopeful wafting whispers
drops belly warming moans
...
enthroned on canvas campchair
black leathered biker sways
chained boots drive hot old rhythms
through courting tunes he plays
...
then breaking from tradition
rough gravel ridden voice
imploring chanted longing
outpours to reap her choice
...
growling song of passion for
the only one he's known
to touch this hollow loner
through all the oats he's sown
...
five final notes float smoky
hung questions in their aire
he shifts as if impatient
flings back wind tangled hair
...
vast moments pass in silence
her dove grey tent lies still
head bowed eyes closed he rises
rejection shreds his will
...
he turns away so slowly
dead flute clutched to his chest
he has no more to offer
since promising his best
...
pine fire light on patches
he steps into the black
howling pain inside his vest
cries there's no turning back
...
familiar thumping rumble
he's kicked his bike to life
roaring off to leave behind
the one he'd take to wife
...
inside a tent soft sighing
tears splashing on her hand
she prays somehow he'll realize
some day he'll understand
...
she could not chain him to her
rogues live life in the breeze
to let him bind his soul to hers
would kill him by degrees
...
therefore two hearts part broken
that could have been as one
to save each other future pain
such selfless acts are done
YOU ARE READING
breathe in deep, hold on tight, eye to eye, grin to grin, fall on in, please...
Poetrybeing a collection of ten works, humble offerings, with hope you will enjoy... thank you readers and judges, for taking the time. (and if anyone is interested, there is another set, of the unchosen, with the same title, only with an asterisk in fro...
