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Best Poems From
ROBERT L. BIXLER III
(February 14,1985)
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61.
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Scarlet Dream
Streams of scarlet melancholy
Are bled as I sleep,
And dream to weep
Of a life not given to me.
Robert L. Bixler III
Read more: dream poems, sleep poems, life poems
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62.
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Seduction's Dance
Through pounding music, smoked scene
My soul rested poignantly upon your poach.
Wrapped in the atmosphere, I drowned in your eyes.
A slow, soft buzz and smooth touch bred all the lies
That I could ever need to break my staled routine
Of playing hardened heart with a seductive encroach.
The band laid the beat for my ensorcelled cadenced step
Towards your sirens song voice and disarming smile.
But it was the reluctant tug of my mind- trying to advise
An easy heart of the game you play on the unwise
And hopelessly romantic- that halted my complete accept.
Even your sweet perfume betrayed your alluring guile.
The newly confident charmer in me sprang
Onto your game of temptation; returning, equally,
Double entendric lines of suggestively passionate lies.
I had to know rather youd counter or fall to my guise.
A fire blazed in your eyes as your laughter rang
The war bells of our encompassing deux de grande folie.
As our stories intertwined within our intrepid touch,
Our fingers danced on growing desire without satiation.
Your advances, growingly intricate, I would chastise
In a confident sashaying of embraced and tensed sighs.
From cloth, to silken hair, to warmed skin who nonesuch,
Save your beauty, could have, such passion, in me beckon.
The culminating, time stopping, final measurement
Of our mortal, carnal, lusting dance arisen compliment
On the very tactile, lucid, abiding embracement
Of soft, intoxicating, luscious lips evoking loves embodiment.
Robert L. Bixler III
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63.
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Seven Pounds
Seven pounds of my soul cries for such salvation,
To give all of myself and turn disaster into redemption.
What would appear as apparent, calculated self destruction
Feints the obvious undertones of beautiful creation.
Where as the weaker heart would decay and crumble
Under the tragedy of such loss and total despair.
I pray that my own heart remain to itself completely humble,
And guide my waivering virtue towards heavenly repair.
With pious resolution, the flagellant wields Gods chastisement
As I pray I could, with zealous fervor, give completely.
My soul cries, my mind weeps and my body yields complete lament
As I ponder if I have the strength to change from sinful to saintly
In such a selfless manner that all that I cherished, and blasphemed,
Is returned to those unjustly deprived of all they could have dreamed.
Robert L. Bixler III
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64.
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Sleepless Liar
Three women fight over my heart,
Holding me bound to their desire.
The quarrel stagnates without start
As the sirens enlighten the liar.
My first lady of loathsome,
Denies me tempered rest.
She smiles at me with blithesome,
As she engulfs me in her darksome.
She loves me most at nights crest
Overwhelming me in starry-eyed jest.
She is my abhorred night buyer.
As days light glistens golden,
My solitary bed remains cold
As the war retains me holden;
The prize that cant be unsold.
My second lady of lust,
Asks I love her beyond conscious.
To her I, with weariness entrust,
As my eyes fill with darkness earnest.
Her immovable love seen callous,
Is remembered on me as slight coyness.
She is longing passion made shyer.
As the war between my ladies,
Loathsome and lust, ever endures,
My weary, weakened aeries
Sinks, separates and obscures.
My final lady of definity,
Knows that her love, I shall not deny,
Is that of final, cold supremacy
And draws me, believer, to divinity.
Her love turns me rigid without sigh
As her embrace brings eternity nigh.
She is water as understood by fire.
This war has, my soul, tarried
As I await an angel to bid.
For when Im finally quarried
She can caress this war undid.
She can truer this weary trier
As I contemplate the slier:
To never sleep with intimacy
-Or- To sleep never with affinity.
Robert L. Bixler III
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