Quatrain – Page 9 – A (wise) man of two faces

Yellow

The pallor of a scaredy cat
is strangely quite akin
to the color of the dandelion
rising o’er the vase’s brim.

Isn’t it unusual
that a vice that’s so despised
would be the same hue as the flowers
blooming right before our eyes?

Frozen little niblets
in the bowl are lain
that chastise our impatience
by exploding in our brain.

I bear the burden of the rod
and feel the sting of every blow
and every poke and every prod
that served, in time, to lay me low.

A fire is raging in our veins,
while we wear a face confused as pain,
before spilling all over the place
leaving a rose upon our face.

For a moment on the day I met her
I was so lost in her eyes
I didn’t notice her literature
nor her shapely, exposed thighs.

A rose for the bonny lass
on this, her birthing day.
A flower with a touch of class
for one who’s the same way.

A dress for the lovely girl
to compliment her eyes.
A gown for her to dance and swirl
and drift on through the skies.

Jewels for the sweet woman
that catch the moonlight’s spark
and burn quite divine when
she drifts on through the dark.

A crown of stars for the fine lady
to tug out her sweet smile
and show the grace that we already
were watching all the while.

I see your sweet wet lips
and watch you open them with sighs
before I get down on my knees
and drink nectar from your thighs.

I have an ocean that’s inside
of all the things I try to hide,
sometimes moved through agitation,
trickling out as tears of desperation.

She runs for miles this evening
to the far side of the gloom
alone but for the glimmering
of her silent friend, the moon.

I’m feeling all alone
while drifting out at sea –
won’t someone come along
and please come rescue me.

There’s holes within my sail
and water in my hold.
I don’t think I’ll prevail –
I see the Divine fold.

But whipping from the black,
I feel the Devil’s hand
that slowly drags me back,
crushing my promised land.

I struggle ‘gainst his grips,
with all that I can give.
I hear his bitter quips
to “Don’t give up!” and “Live!”

At last we reach the shore
while gasping for each breath.
Why must I live some more
when I just wanted death?