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Posts Tagged ‘passion’

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It doesn’t seem

that long ago

you came

but could not stay.

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Our paths were crossed

and time got lost –

seems only yesterday, and yet

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the moon still beams

and waxes full

above the sea

beyond the knoll

.

where we grew young

so long ago

when Eros came to play.

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© 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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(Just another entropic scribble.  🙂  )

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Beating of deep drums,

puff of smoke on horizon

and then you were gone.

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More is said in love’s silence

than we can e’er say out loud.

.

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©  2012, 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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(Reposted from 2012, revised.)

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Grace

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She dammed her feelings

for him

with a bone cork

and Earth became

a rocking jug

with aching sides

and tears

that leaked through cracks

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and there was naught

but a dry, brown light

across the sky.

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And when the gods looked down

they cursed the plug

and ground it to dust

with their fists.

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Earth shuddered

and roared

in a great awakening

of heat and light

.

until at last

there rose

in her breast

the endless rainbow fount

of love undamned.

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(c)  1995, 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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(Revision of an oldie, first posted in 2011.)

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We fan the embers

turning to flamingo flames

parsing the silence

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like a blue-white star –

fire so hot there is no smoke,

just the melt of time.

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Vermilion night,

soft sizzle of sparks afire –

it begins to rain.

.

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©  2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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Many years ago

and still

you’re with me

in the silent deep

.

where time spins faster

before our eyes –

.

it won’t be long

until that blur

is just a knowing smile.

.

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©  2019  Betty Hayes Albright 

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She still remembers

his deep embrace    

in the open entryway

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and the salty taste of urgency

on the tongue

of an April day

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and their offering

to the gods

as it hung in the sun to dry

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to fluff and fold,

but tenderly —

in the wrinkles of goodbye.    

.

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(c) 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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Autumn Leaving

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Falling brittle down

through the fog

I crack and break.

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You take me carefully

to your hearth

once more –

we knew I’d never last

till winter.

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When the fog lifts

I crumble,

await another spring.

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(c) 1982, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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(From 1982, never before published, so pretend it’s new. 😉 )

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