|
|
|
Best Poems From
ROBERT L. BIXLER III
(February 14,1985)
|
|
| |
|
|
1.
|
Love
A thousand grains of sand
In time I’ll understand
The way I also sacrifice
Myself to be so nice
I listen to the waves crash
On me, girls never mash
I watch an orange flare
I’m left with my despair
By myself on a beach
With another girl out of reach
My heart bleeds to the moon
Someday, maybe one day, soon
I’ll find myself with another
My heart will beat with the other
We will lay in the sand
Our presence will be the demand
As the moon chases the sun
I mimic in my earthly run
The sun sets, the moon’s alone
Solitary in the sky, loneliness known
The beloved light reflected away
“Go man” is all I could say
As I gave my light away
Maybe another, another day
By myself on a beach
With another girl out of reach
My heart bleeds to the moon
Someday, maybe one day, soon
I’ll find myself with another
My heart will beat with the other
We will lay on the sand
Our presence will be the demand
Moon sets, black night sets in
My nightly demon’s torments begin
I sit on soft beach sand
Waiting for the day I’ll understand
By myself on a beach
With another girl out of reach
My heart bleeds to the moon
Someday, maybe one day, soon
I’ll find myself with another
My heart will beat with the other
We will lay in the sand
Our presence will be the demand
Robert L. Bixler III
Read more: beach poems, girl poems, moon poems, despair poems, sun poems, light poems, alone poems, heart poems, sky poems, night poems, time poems, running poems
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
2.
|
Honor
What power has a word
Rather spoken or written?
In any other cause forward
Of Honor, it is merely intermittent.
One can speak brilliant ignominies.
False, hollowed words left to wither
On hopeful airs of promised ceremonies.
As the child’s heart sinks, and lips quiver,
Deprived of the joyous aforesaid,
So does the Honor one had obtained.
To say booming thunder has led
Forward storms that leave one stained,
Is not but an inferior assumption.
Forgot not the silent creep of winter’s bleak.
Warm sunny days find slow consumption
In icy winds allowed by the sun’s waning seek.
Even imbedded in signed parchment of three,
Does the power of a word disintegrate.
Clean-cut paper slowly turns dust in an air sea.
As time allows these words to come of late.
With guarded tongue and unwavering presence,
Can one begin to feel Honor, a word’s essence.
Robert L. Bixler III
Read more: power poems, winter poems, child poems, sea poems, sun poems, time poems, heart poems, children poems, wind poems
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
3.
|
One Hour
One hour rests in my mind and in my soul.
One hour of this night to express all I could.
One hour to fill the glass, with your name, full.
One hour with you and an eternity of pleasure in memory.
Here you have been strangled by parents, lovers and trampled by a physicality.
Your body may have been cleansed but your soul and mind remain soiled.
Muscles aching, soul crushed and mind over-loaded;
You sit and stare as I walk in.
One hour of soothing caress can ever be felt.
One hour of repenting and self-indulgence all justified.
One hour of positive, supportive quietness.
One hour of soul-comforting attention from me to you, so needed by both.
I walk in to check on you; work gives you an excuse.
Through your deceitful and emotionally overburdened eyes, can I see the truth.
With strong, steady hands, of mine, the work is finished momentarily.
Now begins the task at mind, and from heart to save you… to save me.
One hour of sympathetic company to remove apathy.
One hour of you, for you, to release all your grief and spell out your pain.
One hour in which everything goes right, nothing impure.
One hour in which simple, heartfelt actions taken by friends shall endure the tidal waves.
Hand soft, gentle and comforting, have transcended beyond
What my hard, torn and strong hands ever thought.
Circular motions, soothing words, and empathizing touch begin the healing.
Your problems are mine, mine yours; Two as one to solve these problems that complicate.
Everything simplified while we are united, but only a taste of what could be.
My kindness, your strength, my trust, your judgment,
My Heart, and your body come together in amazing unity.
After the hour, we will be on our own as only friends looking for more.
But, an ever-growing uncertainty of how, when and where to ask, resides in me.
One hour of escape from reality in this wake-time fantasy.
One hour giving you what I could for the rest of my life… if you deem worthy.
One hour in which our minds are on only each other, and caring only for the other.
One hour that shall live a lifetime in my memory.
Robert L. Bixler III
Read more: memory poems, work poems, trust poems, grief poems, strength poems, together poems, truth poems, pain poems, friend poems
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
4.
|
The Rave
It is only with a guarded heart
That I have sailed these tormenting seas,
Where, before crystal gaze start,
Cold dagger brings loving cease.
Braving storms of uncertainty
And fighting constrictive melancholy,
I have discarded the lusting obscenity
That is the hopeless romantic’s folly.
Having bound the restless waves
Till my compassion shrouded opaque,
My soul wrenched toward unholy raves,
In which my flesh dances to forsake.
Rhythmic alternating bass-beat
And everlasting chaotic lyric tones
Coupled with fog-sheered street
Lit in differing fiery tempered cones,
My body flits in melodic rhythm
As my spirit released ecstasy’s prayer.
The warrior’s stance became phantom
As reality’s harsh truths faded the strayer.
In this land of blackened leather,
Cold steel touch and fishnet capture,
I had released determined tether
To fall freely in dark, lustful rapture.
Surrounded in company of the wicked,
Compassion’s sinful urges shadow
My heart, only thrilled zombie sicced,
As lustful desires, in vampiric kiss, set aglow.
As my entire self falls to pure addiction,
It is here where I feel most crestfallen
That the heavens send my benediction
In angelic form, rave chick blazon.
In spinning her Elysian fires,
The hellish fiends retreat
From the fallen arc that my life sires.
Her essences tastes, on weary soul, sweet.
Her encompassing smile, turns me tranquil,
As softened touch slows my darkened pulse.
Seductive brown eyes, loving force, channel
Calm serenity, from my torment, avulse.
Golden silk hair flows in blessed air,
As my rave chick flows, seemingly lyrical,
To show me, the forlorn lover, her care,
Affinity and love, in a trinity perfectly equivocal.
In her presence, my heart again finally beats,
Only true love’s testament can revive.
It is her beauty that, my soul receipts,
Inspires me to passionately survive.
Holding rave chick, in redeemed grasp,
I realize that my hopeless romantic ways
Will turn smooth, angelic beauty rasp,
And taint her innocence always.
It is with sorrowful return to guard
That I retake, from her, my sorrows,
And leave her only passionate regard
Of eternal bloom in form of a pink rose.
As this rose will come to represent,
The true heartfelt blessing of mine:
The love, for her, I would have sent,
Shall stay the wilt in compassionate define.
Robert L. Bixler III
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|