Fourlinegraphia

  The Smuggler ************** Where have you vanished, lion-hearted man, Whose courage once outshone the sun? The poor still whisper your forgotten name, And wonder where their guardian has gone. **** You walked through danger without fear, With hidden cargo in the night; A gun beside you, darkness near, And fate itself beneath your sight. **** Where is your van on the lonely road? Where are the gold and gems you carried? Where is the secret, heavy load, And all the dreams your footsteps buried? **** The world has changed, the times are new, The smugglers of your kind are gone; Now greed wears suits and speaks so true, While honour quietly marches on. **** Where is that daring, reckless art, Of risking life for one more run? Where is the fire within your heart, That made the impossible seem fun? **** We miss the man behind the crime, The outlaw with a heart of gold; A guardian lost somewhere in time, A story that refuses to grow old. **** Perhaps your footsteps fade away, Perhaps y...

  I do not want you to love me, Nor do I ask for you to see. You need not follow where I walk, Nor do I need you here with me. *** You do not have to hear my song, Nor welcome me along my way. I ask for neither hand nor voice; I have my own road now to take. *** So go away, my fleeting love- There is no illusion left to save. What once seemed certain, time has changed; What once held me need not remain. *** For if love needs another's eyes To tell me what my life should be, Then love has crossed the line of love And made a quiet slave of me. *** Let my face shine among the stars That keep their distance through the night. Let mountain streams return my face And carry it beyond my sight. *** Let painted shadows mark my path, Let forest branches speak my name. When wild reeds sing my stories out, I need not ask who hears the same. *** The forest does not ask me why. The river does not ask me stay. The stars do not demand my heart Before they give their quiet light away. *** So let na...

Your love was not just a warmath to me- It was a cadence, love’s own soft accord, A boundless devotion that bound my heart, A sacred mantra kept in silent grace. *** I breathed life into its simple script, And suffused each letter with gentle warmth; It lingered softly on my tongue, And found its sanctuary within my embrace. *** You deem my silence a forgotten chime, Yet I could never relinquish the strain; I veiled your name beneath my reserve, For my quietude ever wore your face. *** To utter it still awakens grief, Witnessed by tears in the eye’s quiet edge. This parting once seemed a divine decree, Yet time revealed its heavy toll; *** Your name was once a sweet refrain- Now each syllable rends the air, Exhauster of my fragile soul. You mistake my stillness for neglect, *** Unaware of the weight I bear; For silence remains love’s final guise, Where sacred, aching truths reside. Certain melodies still evoke the sting, *** And ancient wounds refuse to heal; When the world grows cold ...

I want to hold a little hand, To kiss those tender, waiting lips, To feel a tiny heartbeat softly Against my chest through sleepless nights. I want to breathe that newborn scent, To hear those hungry midnight cries, To wake beneath a fading moon And watch my baby open its eyes. I dream of tiny fingers wrapped So warmly, tightly into mine, Of little shoes beside the door, And little clothes upon the line. I dream of cradles gently swaying, Of lullabies beneath the light, Of a quiet home made restless By childish laughter day and night. I want those little muddy feet To race across my courtyard floor, To fall, to laugh, to rise again, And come running through my door. I want those hands stained deep with earth, Those fingers pulling leaves and flowers, A little face turned sulking when I scold its mischief by the hour. I want the clothes pulled from the line, The vessels dragged down from the shelf, The cupboards opened one by one- A little storm all by itself. I want those small hands o...

It is not for you to choose the tool I need, I decide what must be cut and where to bleed. My aim is not the cut, but precision in the art- To know exactly where the blade must start. Perhaps a knife appears in both our minds, But every task demands the tool it finds. Scissors may cut, but cannot do it all- A gardener’s shears won’t trim a lock of hair at all. You cannot cut the vegetable like meat, Nor use the same old blade for every feat. Each cut requires a tool that fits the task- That simple truth is all I ever ask. If lies and rumors are the things you spread, I’ll find the scissors suited to that thread. I’ll cut your tangled fabric of deceit, Till every piece of falsehood knows defeat. Bring out your sword, forged hard within the flame, Hammered from iron, polished for the game. But do not think its edge can touch my pride- My courage is not iron you can slice. Bring all your blades and bring them if you dare, Not merely to shave me, but strip what’s there. Remove the final la...

  You, Somewhere Beyond the Blue **************************** I searched the rivers for you, The quiet lakes, the restless seas, And every ocean, deep and blue, That hides a thousand mysteries. *** I searched for a mermaid fair, With eyes that carried your unknown light, With your imagined face and flowing hair, Yet you remained beyond my sight. *** Perhaps you were never meant to rise, From coral gardens beneath the blue, Perhaps you live where the horizon lies, In a world I cannot travel to. *** Perhaps you stand beyond the sun, Where golden evenings fade from view, Watching me when the day is done, While I stand here, searching for you. *** Each morning, when the sun appears, I speak your name beside the sea, And tell the waves about my fears, And all the love you left in me. *** Each evening, when the sunlight dies, And paints the ocean with its gold, I wonder if, beyond the skies, You watch me waiting, as of old. *** Perhaps you stand beyond the shore, Where sky and ocean touc...