Posts tagged “Solace

Ambiguity

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Ambiguity

Are we not meant for mystery
that we wander the corridors of our hearts—
Searching for love

Charles Coakley Simpson


Vespers

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Vespers

Wake me with a kiss,
and stir my dreams with lips brush.
Might that I feel–
the soft, tender press–of loves flower.
Between the unturned  pages
of my heart

Charles Coakley Simpson


Comprehensive

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Comprehensive

It has been long–I think, since I held you.
And wrapped myself warmly
Within the soft, white blanket of your skin.

Charles Coakley Simpson


Cricket

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Cricket

Out of the distance, through my darkness,
I listened quietly for the solitude in your summer’s night song.
And yet I never knew where upon your heart did lie.
Had it only belonged to me, for in that fleeting moment I knew
That I was never truly
Alone

Charles Coakley Simpson


Plush

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Plush

Thus awakened
within arms womb–Embraced.
I am locked timelessly in amniotic warmth
Without condition–Immaculate
Therefore suspended–I am thus weightless
except for the delicate influence
Of a whisper

Charles Coakley Simpson


Elegy

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Elegy

Then so the beauty of life lies not in its living–but in its dying.
Where we find solace in the splendor of regret.
Thus we must suffer gracefully, yet gladly, as we relive our memories.
And like them–sparkle, before we fade.

Charles Coakley Simpson


Mistress

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Mistress

My comfort does lie not
in the compassion of your companionship,
even as I lay the weight of my heart on your shoulder,
but in the deep knowledge of the promise
that you will never say
“I love you.”

Charles Coakley Simpson


Cottonwood

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Cottonwood

Where are my words–are they lost on the wind,
that ours have suddenly gone still?
For I have found myself beneath your dreaming
and your hold on my heart is my will.
Your sway is soothing, your whispers are warm,
and there is no place rather I’d be.
Than caught beneath the comfort of your dreaming
contemplating—if you dream about me.
If your dream is a wish of a kiss that you missed
then certainly your dreaming is true.
For of all of the wished of the kisses I’ve missed
know they have all been dreamt
Of you

Charles Coakley Simpson


Rapture

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Does beauty sleep alone—
that all her leaves have fallen in the night?
Her trees shivering quietly within their newfound nakedness,
and yet not so immodest is the wind as it caresses
the starkness of her limbs now bare.

Clouds churn in the half-light.
Rolling barrels of thick, black smoke spinning silently on the horizon.
Like oil upon water; they delicately contort the dawn
with the soft and wistful mutiny of their unspoken revelations.

The sun begrudgingly awakens,
his pride subdued by the currents of reckless circumstance.
Therefore,  not but a shadow of its self, he clambers listlessly into the sky
treading the waters of his own light.

And the streets scurry with ocher—
The umberlings of motherless children chased along by the wind.
The air—indifferent, is yet sweet with their laughter,
and I am haunted by the inflection, as her soul gathers in the twilight
of my shadow.

Charles Coakley Simpson