This is the latest poem from my favorite poet; it was a gift last night. Enjoy. (The computer highlighted a line, and I don't know why it does that. Ignore the fact that a random line is highlighted; I didn't do it for emphasis or anything like that....)

A Case for Beauty

With shortened eye, some seek to rush the plan
and steal of spring the pleasures it implies.
They, drunk with ruin, sing "live while you can!",
and wile away the willing with their lies.
Alas! The truth, by some, not understood:
Eternal is the flame of womanhood.

While beauty's light from spirit's fire shines,
a spark that glints from heaven-borrowed coals,
when starved for fuel the ember soon declines
to faintest flick from aging, tarnished souls.
Youth, don't embark upon that foolish course;
exploiting light; extinguishing the source.

For if life be but festival or fair,
a fast and flashy gathering of thrills,
erected overnight with little care
and stricken in the face of winter chills,
then when it dims what in its stead remains,
but empty lots, and trodden paths, and stains.

Make then yourself a monument instead;
heed not if blind or selfish men may mock.
Enjoy constructive years that lie ahead
and build your walls with choices, block by block.
Then when, in winter, lesser lights expire
your spires and halls will blaze with inner fire.

Nathan's Poetry

For my modest Love....

In reverence, reflecting a diffident flower

does th' artist exalt in his zeal?

Does praising perfection from hour to hour

embolden a beauty unreal?

As life-loving lilies grow softer and brighter

than canvas can hope to compare;

so words, warmly formed, make the Love of the writer

not lovelier,

 only aware.

Nathan is often wooing me with poetry. I love it. Words can be so beautiful, and I feel like a fairytale princess when he writes verses for me. It is so romantic and singularly meaningful. Penned words will never wilt like bouquets, and never be fully consumed like chocolates. I'm so thankful that I'll have these words immortally stored in books for our posterity, so they'll never doubt the deep love Nathan and I held for each other. 

My favorite part of this is when I get to use his quotes in conversation. "As a great poet once said...."

 Delightful.

Nathan's Poetry- Old Birds

Old Birds

Two hairs sat like eagles, their feathers a-fluttering,

reminiscing on days of yore,

and how swiftly, it seemed, that their crag was uncluttering;

and how woolly it was there before.

"In MY day birds spread like a rug o'er this rock!"

said the first, with conceit, to the other.

"A regular wig and an elegant flock!"

the second agreed with his brother.

Their time-ravished ridge appeared weathered and shorn.

It reflected an unwholesome gleam.

Rejecting new flights and new perches with scorn,

they made a belligerent team.

With envy they'd scowl at the fowl 'cross the way.

A thick flock and sturdy new roost.

Said one to the other, "Outlandish display!"

"Rogaine," his partner deduced.

"I remember when we were a shock such as they."

"I'm sure we were never so bold!"

"At least handsome of plumage and none of it grey."

They argued and sat and grew old.

Now sitting alone, two trees in a clearing,

unshielded, to quake in the wind.

Though anxious, perhaps, that the fall might be nearing,

contented to wait with a friend.

Nathan's Poetry

I realized that I've neglected to share much of Nathan's poetry on this site, so I'll add them bit by bit. I love the beauty of poetry! I feel like I'm the heroine in the play 'Cyrano de Bergerac' each time I read his beautiful words. What a neat talent to be the benefactress of!

Interrogatives

How do you see me when I'm not nearby?

What foibles do you recall?

When do you miss me when we say 'goodbye'?

When do you miss me at all?

How to secure a firm place in your life?

Where can I find your heart's key?

How to be worthy to call you my wife?
What sort of man should I be?

When you think back on the time spent with me,

How many times do you muse:

"What stunning example of manhood is he!

Whom better could ever I choose?"

What poet's power consoles those apart?

How to bring peace with a pen?

How could but words soothe my lonely-filled heart?

When will I see you again?

When next we are near let it not be the same,

What passion, our past, will eclipse!

How sweet it will be when you call out my name,

What thrill your caress on my lips.

Why waste time with asking and not begin here?

How happier we'll be then!

Who gladder, than I, will be when I hear:

"How lovely to see you again!"

Nathan's creations

Nathan and I really enjoy reading poetry together, especially on drives to San Antonio. We keep a collection of poetry anthologies to peruse often. I am constantly touched by the power and mastery of language in poetry. It often moves me to tears at the sheer beauty and skill with which a poet paints a picture in words. It makes me also inclined to use my language better, however feeble my attempts may be.

On a recent trip to the bookstore we were dismayed to learn that most major chain bookstores have only one small shelf of poetry. It's really sad that most of the American population doesn't read poetry. They miss so much! Good poetry does so much to enrich our lives, it would be like living without music to live without poetry. 

Nathan has been reveling in poetry lately, and I highly delight in it. I wanted to share a few samples of his latest works. 

Please consider them carefully. 

Visitors

An awkward acquaintance and poor host is Time;

our alliance not quite apropos.

Interim guests in an unwelcome clime,

we drift in its river-like flow.

Forgetting- as salmon, defying the stream,

obsessed with its urgent commotion-

that we exist not for this dim, death-bound dream

but a tranquil and unending ocean.

From moment to moment

(Visitors II)

Mortal moments are variable visitors.
The savage seemingly stay too long;
the tender tarry too briefly.

As gusty grass does, briefly;

 moments waver.

Wisdom winks in the experienced eye

but in the moment eyes are weak.

The clock, cold, slows then.

Life's blissful lamp dims then

 in that moment.

Mourn not the icy moments remaining

like frigid ramparts between us.

We'll not always be apart.

As warm'd ice-walls melt apart,

 icy moments die.

Sweet dawning day, dispel the dark!

All perished, impediment-moments.

The lamp burns brightly again;
and time flits by hot again;

 for a moment.

Epilogue

Then gladly await the birth of the day

when interred be all meager moments.

Time will warmly wait at last,

and Love will ever light our last,

 Eternal Moment.

 This following poem is about Nathan's very favorite flower in Texas. It smells like grape bubble gum, and infuses the air with this scent liberally. Whenever we pass a mountain laurel bush, Nate stops and breathes deeply, with a blissfully happy smile. 

The Song of the Mountain Laurel

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calia_secundiflora)

(An Amateur Attempt at Alliteration)

For the fancy fragrance lovely laurels have,

in March so unselfishly shared.

My soul, your scent soothes as a spiritual salve;

by your beautiful blossom when bared.

Your blooming bough bearing big bunches of buds,

like grapes, in great gushing groups.

As from that fruit, your fine fragrance floods.

Thus saddled, your sprig strains and stoops.

You laudable laurels look like lilacs a little;

a hard, homely hedge in the heat.

But so pretty presenting, with pride, purple petal

in spring, that smells simple and sweet.

Lovely laurels! I long for your lavender lace

in delicate, draping display,

and your pungent perfume, all-pervading this place,

dispelling the drudg'ry of day.

 This last poem is my personal favorite thus far. There can be so much read into this poem if you take the time to analyze it. He was very careful in selecting the imagery so there is more than one story to read in it. I love it so much.

A Record Borne 
Moses 6:63

Behold majestic mountains and the ancient, tow'ring pine.
Pointing up to heaven they indicate that they are Mine.
These, by My Hand created, a record bear of Me.
The sun, the moon, the stars, the earth, the mountain, and the sea.
Delight in winds that sweep the mountain snow across the sky,
in thund'rous rain that soaks the fields and grows the grass thereby,
in meadows painted blue and red with flowers in the spring,
in mornings lit with sacred music when the songbirds sing.
Know these splendors of the earth created were for thee.
They witness of the great I Am, and record bear of Me.

Rejoice in life, in agency, in every borrowed breath,
in happy comfort in the hope of living after death.
With wonder feel the tiny fingers of an infant's hand;
reflect on promised progeny more plentiful than sand.
Perceive out, of My marvelous works, so beautiful and wild,
the nature of the love between a father and his child.

Behold, all have their likeness; things above and things below.
All things upon this earth I gave that those who see may know.
The lily of the field, the sparrow, and the lamb;
all My creations point to Me,
bear record that I Am.

 

Nathan's poetry-Visitors

Visitors

An awkward acquaintance and poor host is Time;

our alliance not quite apropos.

Interim guests in an unwelcome clime,

we drift in its river-like flow.

Forgetting- as salmon, defying the stream,

obsessed with its urgent commotion-

that we exist not for this dark, death-bound dream

but a tranquil and unending ocean.

Nathan's poetry #2

(This next one he wrote about an experience when he tried to swallow a
pill and it became lodged in his mouth....it's pretty funny! It makes me think of Shel Silverstein's style of writing)

The daring young pharmaceutical...

"He'd fly through the air with the greatest of ease,That daring young
man on the flying trapeze."
--George Leybourne

   So feral and free,
   a grand sight to see,
a laugh ever found on his lips.
   With ease,
   he deftly commands the trapeze
as he somersaults, tumbles, and flips.

   No care on earth
   can hamper his mirth
as he dances, unfettered by all.
   Nor thought
   of the spot
he would make in his wake peradventure that he should fall.

   Freedom and speed
   are the hour's only need;
he mocks you- those bound to the ground.
   You hear him sneer
   as he flies past too near;
his cape makes a WOOSHING sound.

   Oh! But what's that?
   What appeared o'er the brat?
Water! It pours from the sky!
   Not rain, but a torrent,
   a Niagara-like current,
gushing from endless supply.

   Suddenly solemn
   'fore the mighty wet column,
our trapezist appraises his plight,
   Yawning beneath-
   a chasm with teeth
it seems. No circus in sight.

   Half drowned in the surge,
   but resisting the urge
to concede and so plunge down the maw.
   He dangles in dread
   as he hangs by a thread
in a cavern resembling a jaw.

   I choke and I gag,
   feel my uvula wag,
try to chug down the obstinate pill.
   Gulping a liter,
   a novice drug eater
perhaps; but I'll finish him still.

   Though nasty and bitter
   I'll not be a quitter,
determined to swallow my foe.
   Oh! My bad luck!
   How he ever got stuck
I'm sure I never will know.

Nathan's poetry

 Nathan has been gifting me with poetry lately. I absolutely love poetry, and these have been dear to me. I have always admired Nathan's innate gift with writing. He is so eloquent that it makes my heart melt.  I wanted to post a few poems here, over time. This is the latest work:




Priorities

Jump up, move, ascend in haste.
The work exceeds the day.
Awake, arise, hear, breathe, feel, taste,
Morn pulls its urgent way.

The sailors pause; their lines go slack,
The Captain shouts to stop their ear,
The siren's lyric lures them back,
The wrecking rocks loom near.

Fight, soldier muscles. Fight!
Forbid this war end here.
We've slept already through the night,
Will we sleep on through the year?

An argument, my mind to sway-
An angel by my side.
Her sleep-flushed cheek a rose bouquet.
My temptress and my bride.

An ivory arm embraces 'round,
Her head rests on my chest.
Her breath, that soft, endearing sound,
Calls me back to rest.

The army settles into bed,
The general sinks down deep.
I compromise, recline my head,
Again I fall asleep.

Enjoy the morn; Think not of the cost,
Sweet seconds to be tasted.
Was ever a battle more happily lost
Or an hour so well wasted?