What Secrets Does She Hold?

By Renee

Just a hint of light,
Bringing this beautiful bloom,
Hiding in the shadows,
to life.
What secrets does she hold?

If Ever

If ever I should walk away, it would not be in morning
While daybreak shows the blue of your eyes
Shining in the warmth of the early dawn
No, I couldn’t leave you under this kind of sky

If ever I should turn away, it wouldn’t be at noontime,
The bright sun warming the love of our happy meal
Highlighting you through the print of your cotton dress
No, I couldn’t leave you, while your love I feel

If ever I should say goodby, it wouldn’t be at evening,
‘Cause evening makes you glow with love
Your hair casting golden sparks in the red sunset
No, I couldn’t leave, you’re such an angel from above

If I thought to leave you, it wouldn’t be at night time
Your body close to mine and I touch your silky skin
Night time is for loving and I lay there by your curves
No, I can’t leave you, when you light that fire within

Sunrise

The glow of birth on a joyous morn,
The sun anew, alight, beautifully reborn,
Brief pause in breeze, in tree,
And sky and ground,
Paying homage for the happy return.

The Rose

The rose,
Deep emotional iridescence,
A blend of color, texture,
Line and scent.
So like a woman,
Serene in her art,
Glow of romance,
Beat of her heart,
Passionate red,
Desire of the flower,
Mind and soul,
The touch and power,
Love flows between her and him.
Mind and soul, skin to skin,
The rose quivers beneath the dew,
Morning comes, beauty renewed.

Your Insigficant Fist

There is wonder in the smallest of things,
Whether snail, or leaf,
Or imagined unseen fairy ring,
Hidden beneath bark and its rough-hewn face,
The life of the whole,
Depends on each organism's place.
Each twining of precarious life and death,
Reflects the larger frame,
The fragility of our drawn breath.
Without the small,
The larger does not exist,
Remmember that O soul,
When you tighten your insignficant fist.
Love must precede, envelop,
And come after all,
Else the plan that supports cannot but fall.
Love then, is the answer to prevail,
It must, lest all else fail.

February 29th

You could hear the marble crack, the sound like a rifle shot,
I crouched cold in my steps behind an oak, looking over a railing top
Nothing seemed amiss, up or down the walk,
Must have been a branch, trees sometimes do talk

I stood up to peek about, and heard the snap again
This time I kept my wits, this time I saw one statue bend
Bend! Statues don’t bend! Well, this one did, plain as day!
You have to live on the wild side, to see a statue play

The marble commenced morphing, from mottled white, to pink skin,
Eyes of blue , a billowy white shirt, who would triumph marble or him
The change now complete, he dropped from pedestal to walk
Stood straight, and wiggled his toes—for me, time had abruptly stopped

Striding across the park like grass, held his hands high for a figure,
Still and white and serene, It turned to she, and jumped secure
man and woman, in love, she in his arms, a laugh and a smile,
They clung to each other, for a long, long while

Then walking about hand in hand, his eyes seemed locked to hers,
As if they’d never take each other all in, a mysterious curse
Modestly, in my feeble attempt, to let them be for the hours
I looked away, gave them time, to bend and share the flowers

Finally, they returned, he put her on her stand
Slowly, he watched her return to her marble state again
With tears streaming, down his aqualine nose
He climbed his pedestal, and assume his former pose

He looked at me as if to explain somehow, one last time,
seeing a natural unspoken question in my eye
“To embrace, to kiss, to hold, to find,
We only get a few hours of, one day only, February 29th”

Cruel Mistress

She was living in San Francisco
Just a hundred yards from the bay
Watching the ships steam in and out
And shared the ocean’s play
Her mind would number the boats,
She could name the distant lands,
Of the crews from which they hailed
Then wipe the tears and say,


The ship is your mistress
When you leave your girl behind
You worship a capricious god
And she steals you, O, so blind
You gamble for a pittance
Serving lovers you cannot please
And the sirens songs echo from the seas
Yes, the sirens seduce another man,
To the seas.


She’d watched her father climb the gangway
Of a clipper ship in eighteen eighty six
Her mother held her hand that morn,
The home’s front door had never been fixed
Tears streamed down that woman’s face
Some fear in that woman's way
And the word had come from a trawler
That Davy Jone’s had had his say.


Yes, that ship was a cruel mistress,
And I can near him muttering still
But he’s gone to the locker below
And Jones has gotten his fill
That front door ne’er got the hinge
Nor the garden the new spring seed
For Anson took his chances
Now, Kathryn has his soul indeed.

Lonely Widow's Beds

Ten thousand men were crouching
On the crest of Gafton Hill
Each one with a sharpened sword to bear
All of them a single will
Twas early March and early morn
You see their nervous breath
Before the dark of this English day
Five thousand would meet their death


Ten thousand men would run the vale,
To fight brothers eye to eye,
Cannon ball, arrow and bow,
Death’s stench would reach the sky.
The sky and sun don’t care about,
Your rank, or pause at your name
Their silent witness tells no tales,
Of soldier’s deeds or fame.


You can hear the ghosts of horses,
You and smell the ghosts of men,
If you squint your eyes a bit,
You can see the wars again
The ringing of steel on steel,
The pounding of the hooves
Shaking of mount and moor and hand
I could feel it where I stood.


It takes blood and bone,
Skin and pain to build a single man
It takes blood and blade,
Hell and hate, to kill him where he stands
You swing the sword, sever air,
You can fill the stream with red
But you can never replace the souls,
Or fill lonely widow’s beds.

Love's Milk

It must have been that Monday, now it feels so far away
Maybe the summer sunshine, perhaps a lazy day
You fingers in my hair, you lips across my neck
It became so easy to fall, my life seemed so surreal

Makes the pain sting even more, each time I give a kiss
You face floats before me, of scented air it consists
I could fly forever, when you were my wings
All that lost, all is lost, everything

Your promise lifted me, from dusk to pearly dawn
Then sun broke through turbulent mist, a newborn fawn
I breathed the crystal air, drank the morning breeze
Though tenderness was ever warm, I watched it freeze

How could two hearts so entwined be torn so easily
Words will never describe, words like this are never free
How can you be so calm, old leather dried and cracked
When my drink is poison, love’s milk cannot come back

Maybe this is the way I know, what you can do to me
Just one more day of questions, one more day
Now I know what leaving means, rejection and the pain
‘Cause I’m standing here, just waiting in the rain

The Bolero

He put on a disc of Maurice Ravel
And as the music began to swell
He removed his clothes with careful grace
And drank slowly from the melody’s well

It was soft and mellifluous
And blocked out the memories
Of a love he’d lost 20 years ago,
As he moved the tears cleansed his cheeks

His eyes drifted to the ceiling
Though his gaze went far beyond
To a sky that was blue and happy
And he danced quicker now

She came from the kitchen with her hands wet,
Wiping them on a towel
She’d been doing the dishes alone
Hearing that music up loud

A little perturbed,
She was going to speak to him sharp
Started swaying with the roll of the drums
As she watched him there in the dark

His body was lithe from the movements
And her body began to shake
She could feel the tension inside mount
Her soul started to quake

That passion of 15 years past
She hadn’t felt in a long time
Gradually, a change came over her
As she touched the sublime

Sublime was meant to be shared
And share it they did through the night
Dancing to Ravel
The bolero and the soft morning light

Three Little Brothers

Three little brothers,
Hiding in a nest,
Each of them precious,
Each to be blessed,
May none disturb,
Their slumbers and place,
God, look down,
Touch them with sweet grace.

The Eagle

The eagle soared on wings of grandeur,
Lifted by currents of sun heated air
Ever looking, ever vigilant,
He spied a young salmon leaving its lair
Twisting to dive and hide his shadow,
His elegant head thrust on its mission
Body focused on terrible speed,
Feathers constantly adjusting his direction
The salmon leisurely swam quietly,
Waving its tail to remain in place
Its meditation was not to be altered,
While above the torpedo raced.
Bird toward silvered water,
Fish aimlessly swam and pattered
Surface shattered by talons of steel,
Scales raked by knives and dented and splattered
The salmon struggled in fright and anger,
The eagle struggled to regain the sky
Wings ponderously wagged up and down,
Air trapped beneath pushed him higher
Salmon gasped for air and freedom,
The Eagle triumphant flew toward a tree.

An Angel's Touch

She's a mystery in her disguise,
She's a temptress with those deep blue eyes
She'll draw you in, and tease you mad
She'll make you hot and leave you sad
Like roses on a Spring time eve
Her skin will touch, you'll never leave
Her hands will pull you to her tight
Embrace you in the June moonlight
Something that you'll ne'er forget
Her lips will touch, but never get
As close as you will want her to
She'll make you feel like she is true
And at the last you'll feel complete
But with the last sigh, rise and flee
For in that last kiss she'll require
Your heart and soul and your desire.
You may give and not regret
I think you will not object,
A woman of this kind of love,
Is rarer than an angel's touch.

The Moon Drifts

The Moon Drifts

Night falls over the city close,
Floating a Technicolor dreamcoat,
off the celestial hat stand,
painted in hues I would love to blend.

Muted buildings in dull black,
Smoke curling from one lone stack,
Shapes in cones, trees, and squares,
Naught down there but worldly cares.

Up in the sky, the moon drifts,
In a sliver of light like a candlestick,
In a shadow box of pinks and blues,
A vast canvas of galactic hues.

Mr. Bug

A bug may be a common sight,
people step on them day or night,
all you might hear is a slight scrunch,
as they expire beneath the shoe's crunch.

Slow down!
Take that closer look,
that dear fellow is an open book,
of science, and life, and mystery, just look!

Sluggish and unattractive he might be,
But he pays no rent and he lives free,
Food is usually stuff we leave behind,
Scraps of things, whatever he finds.

Why does he have six legs,
He looks like a tank on tent pegs,
With pads for landing should he fall,
At ½ inch, he really isn’t very tall.

A skin that is more like sheet metal,
A pair of wings to fly, an airborne kettle,
He dives and rises like a drunken bird,
But he doesn’t care and utters not a word.

Sometimes, Mr. Bug’s life is also hard,
Natural enemies, such as the birds are,
I wonder if he’s even aware of them at all,
I even wonder if he can hear his mother call

The Secret

Wind blows through the ancient parapets
Whining down the crumbling stone steps
Listen carefully—the watchman calls
Crying out the hour, as fog and darkness fall

The grass and stone court yard shadow eerily
Clanking heard from the blackened armory
Iron to rusty iron, screeches at protesting door
Horse and squire, slowly exit, to the drill floor

Thudding resonates from polished equestrian boots
A figure saunters steadily toward his snorting brute
A swordsman, regal in flowing couplet and pants
Proud in bearing, take the reins, attention stands

Unaware, 500 years and counting, separate ghost and reality
Booted man, his steed and squire, turn their gaze upon me
Eyes are questioning, probing, intent and wordlessly
Turbulantly, I reach for answers, am I to search endlessly?

As I watch this scene passing, ragged pages, faded frames
I turn those storied sheets, my mind and soul, jump and fly
Imagination, aided with author’s pen, and artist’s curves
Their question, spoken silently, reveal the secret in the words

Sugar Cane

It's taken me years and years to remember
I may forget in a second or so
That often happens at my time and age
The chaos of a lifetime ago

I have hung my hands over a cold steel railing
to watch the leaves floating down the river
You memory drifted through my windblown mind
with the cold lonely twinge of a shiver

I can see your sweet eyes on the murky, cold water
Like you are still calling out to me
But I know there is no going back there
We agreed long ago to let it be

Like syrup raw from Louisiana sugar cane
I smooth out as I get refined and grow older
Like Whiskey from the bottom of the aging keg
Women like me better if I go slower

Worse or Better

She was gone with the wind
Running and breathless,
No time to think or pause to smell the roses.
Life can be like that
You think you have control
Suddenly, the escape door screeches and closes.

Dark magic on the loose,
A day turned tense,
And nothing has the glow it had yesterday
The sky might have warned
But most often it won’t
And now…now you have no time for play

A battle of the senses,
Not one thing tangible
You have to close your eyes, and depend on the wisdom of your soul
Does faith or fate win
The heart war seems grim
However, there be tricks and tools you have from an ancient scroll

Those writings were faint,
And spiritually quaint,
No one pays attention to those things any more.
Do you choose the wisdom
Or your physical power
As one by one those paths blink shut, door by darkened door.

Burning the future
To take care of the present
Hit with events, and unexpected force.
You’re a fighter, you’re a winner,
Not much takes you down
But you’ve tempted fate and fate has changed your course.

Sometimes in fear
Sometimes in joy
You look and feel your way hoping you’re allowed a voice
What is the end?
A beginning of something else,
Worse or better, no one tells the future yet mandates a choice

Sneaking Out

Last Friday, I went over to your house,
We watched TV, your mom screamed at a mouse,
The show was about rising teenage pregnancy,
Your mom has always been a little tense,
Your dad yells at her, she's not making sense,
And it drove you crazy and a little antsy.

About 30 minutes in,
You changed the channel again,
But we got bored with reruns,
So we went for a walk on the wild side.
Boy, the night had blown, the dots of stars around,
All you could hear, Were raspy chirping sounds,
Our hearts beating, and our hands starting to sweat.

We snuck down, the back orchard path,
To an old willow tree, with darkness at last
And crawled up next to the trunk were we could touch.
It wasn’t long before our panting,
Had a heat of longing,
And hands were touching things they shouldn’t feel.

Passion is a wonderful sensation,
But it can lead to desperation,
And we were inches away from exploding into the moon.
All that stuff about pregnancy,
Waddled off with the fading images,
And we were flying up there near the clouds.

We lay back afterwards,
Not thinking much about the future
Just happy in the glow of two hearts as one.
About a month and a half later,
You called me in such a lather
And I nearly fainted from the shock of your news.

School was out the next summer,
And we had already said hurried vows,
I was looking for a job at the nearest drive through.
Amazing how a tiny little baby,
Makes life hard on a teenage lady,
And a man out of a boy, pretty damn fast.

We’ve made it now for a few years,
Lots of arguing and trails of tears,
We don’t know if we’ll make it to our tenth.
I still love her, she loves me,
But we’re sill kids anyone can see
And that little one sure is cute, but we lost something.

Hard to be romantic,
With a baby and the neighbor's static,
Seems we’re counting pennies and marking crying time
We get day old bread,
Oat meal and grace is said,
Without much to spend we each lot of burgers and fries.

Yeah, it was fun under that tree
Learning about you and me
The birds and bees, and forgetting about life.
I hope we love each other
Praying it doesn’t become a bother,
But we’re paying long and hard for Sneaking Out

When Unicorns and Fauns Gather

It's a foggy morning in the woods of the past,
The wizard has woven his spell and left,
All that needs happen now,
To fall upon this ground, the magic spell.
When unicorns and fauns gather and tell,
of the tales of knights and kings.
Regaling each other with the memories,
Of crowns and sceptors and rings;
Of polished armor and clashing steeds,
Spears and swords, and broken reeds,
Men struggle and sweat in fear
Grunts and pain, and blood and tears.
And when the telling was over,
All had drunk of the memory ale,
And all were satisfied with the tales,
They rose and toasted with blackberry wine
How must they missed the old times!

Mr. Hawk!

Hello there, Mr. Hawk!
You are a dignified looking chap!
What morsel today, have you caught,
What are you sharing with the cat?
Your eye is sharp, your head proud,
Mind, you are ahead of the pecking crowd!

My Heart Laughs at My Dreaming Mind

Floating nebulus,
An ethereal spaceship,
Painted in pink, orange, and white.
There, see it! Above the trees,
Majestic, fearsome,
I cannot move my transfixed eyes.
Spewing vapors from exhausts,
My mind creates a crew,
A band of miscreants from Katmandu.
What purpose, what sinister plot,
Purveyors of planets,
Scouts on a celestial field day.
My heart laughs at my dreaming mind.