We shall see with our own eyes,
hear with our own ears,
feel with our own hearts.
We shall speak our own words,
and know the truth
in the breath of our own air.
No one will tell us differently.
No one owns the dirt beneath our feet.
We shall say as we please,
do as we please,
as we please.
The last breath of love,
aimless in exile.
Learning that silence is noble
and sorrow hardest on a bleeding heart.
Donít tell me itís late.
The wind is stale
and the crowd thins against a starved horizon.
Donít tell me itís late.
Flashing a dream
of a beautiful needful thing.
If I were younger Iíd blush.
But It shall never be too late.
Copy right 1997
When it is finally ours,
we can not cage the minute.
Faith is only unto ourselves
and choice becomes the innocent.
It is out of bounds now,
the season is gone.
Here, the pivoting searchlight probes
beyond advice or reason.
My youth was spent
in tear drops and flowers gathered.
Once the wine of summer love,
which no longer matters.
the strongest and deepest of all emotions
I look for definition.
Where love keeps secrets
there is the imagination.
The dreams of all the things I want to someday say.
The living world is a continuum.
Only naiveté believes is fixed
in a higher order of things.
True beauty in comprehensive nebulae,
the biggest event in our lives.
Covers the skies from right ascension.
Tharsis volcanoes and dimensions
unwilling to spend the night.
Erupt, relieved and overjoyed
to see we are together, peeping through time.
In the morning, I bathed my intelligence
on last nightís wish.
I owned a magnificent memory,
more than the midst of overwhelming sorrow.
I turned to verse
to comfort myself
and derived fresh joy and new meaning.
Dark my light.
Darker still my desire.
My soul, half maddened
shows a fraying edge.
Feminine, in miles of softness,
now hardened in heart.
With all my heart,
I saw who he was.
Traveled through his eyes
to his spirit, pure and simple.
In all honesty,
I found him sincere and modest.
The most beautiful man in the world.
The Language of Love
The language of love
took me by surprise.
Touched me with a rhythm
thatís older than the sky.
The language of love.
A message from above.
Taught me with a wisdom
thatís warmer than the sun.
No ordinary man waits,
from a book he reads.
His heart in the still air
of music crying to be heard.
The moon shines clear and cold
upon a golden girl.
Her voice, a soul untouched by sin.
In sorrow, this theme he heard.
Every night in a dream,
she tells the twilight hour.
Each flower is itís own.
In heaven plays a child, she is alone.
Pale crowned with calm
his languid lips are sweeter
than rose buds
and whispers stranger
then Apolloís song.
You are the gravity of the moon,
distracting me off course.
Pulling me toward you.
of how far I have come
and will go.
What I leave behind,
what I know.
The questions that say,
"the truth sounds like a lie."
and the open sky.
Where looming shadows dwell at will,
may the words of love Iíve spoken
empty your heart of all doubts
and silence them forever.
Give me your smile, one smile.
Kiss me as though you believe that you love me.
Whisper to me three little words that will be
neither willing nor reluctant.
My twin soul and I
tell of the final truth of love,
which waits for us to discover.
determined and anxious to share.
We must taste it all
Arriving at the truth with no logic.
Because we exist in the future.
My twin soul and I.
We immediately understand each other.
Time is trickling down
the lines of my palm.
In a generous song,
I first saw him and fell in love.
I count days in a row.
I look in my crystal ball.
I watch him from afar
to assure that nothing goes wrong.
Under the open sky,
in the sultry solstice of summer.
Her spirit child within,
a deeper shadow has fallen.
And from the youthful fields,
a fragrance lifts
from the celestial flowers she gathers.
In tiny bundles within her small hands,
they grasp the fragments of playthings.
More in stride,
while hiding from the sun,
he accepts her faithful part.
Deep are his tones and solemn,
as she plays house on his heart.
Wild as all regret,
sent up in silence from among our prayers.
It is but a vain belief.
Today will be dying.
His eyes were night eyes,
lit by silver moonlight.
Our love is frail as life itself.
We kiss as though
there is no tomorrow.
as though there is no yesterday.
With her face pale
and her light eyes dim
that fastened men to her,
she still loved him a little.
With her heart muted silent,
she came to call on him.
While plain in her dress
and simple in her words,
she said the word, "please,"
like a soft aphrodisiac,
keeping all her smiles to herself.
A man would be wise to love her back
and know he could never trap her.
I could never be again.
The sun has set on our summer romance.
I could never be again.
that once loved,
I could never be forgotten.
Mutely appeal the hidden feelings
hiding the skyís happy blue.
Be still, one evening God will lead me to you.
Sweet smiling Allen,
loveliest of all the charms.
A year elapse, return to view
your rich and cumbrous crown.
Dear, lovely owner of ease and grace,
and talking whispers others make.
Upon your face, I bless the day
that we should meet again.
I dreamed I never did.
I wished I never tried.
Then, I asked myself,
"is that right?"
When the time comes
and when love appears,
where, then shall we glitter?
Triumphant in our eyes.
We, the proud owners of a charm.
I am a driven spirit.
I hold my head up high.
I wonít be detoured from my vision,
In broad daylight, with Poet eyes, I recognize what I deserve.
Holding my breath, I remind myself to also hold my nerve.
In long strides, with pride, I tell myself persistence.
Stretch out your hand, I ask, please, give me your assistance.
Time, it passes so fast.
The gray in your hair reminds me
how foolish weíve been.
A bridge of light reaches out and tells us the truth.
Who, fills your dreams deep in the night?
Awake to my call
and we will be
two angels kissing.
There in the night, unafraid, we made up each other.
Who, answers your needs, and just wonít believe, in anything ugly.
On this Sunday, with tears, I must tell you good bye.
Holding my breath so I wonít cry, I fumble.
The right road and knowing eyes, I understand the lessons I must learn.
Hold my hand and tell me, you will also hold to your word.
Who, more so to trust, then the one that you love.
Is anything sacred?
Who better to see, why wonít you please, forgive me.
Oh, wonít you please, Iíll ask on my knees,
Peggy Penny 1997