I Have Loved You a Lifetime
I have loved you a lifetime.
A lifetime is as long as
a lifetime will be
and not a half breath more.
Though let us not be so vulgar
as to speak of love and time
in the same stunning breath.
The heart knows better.
The heart knows what the heart knows,
that long after life is spent
and the limited time of life
exhausts it’s last stale breath
and the drained breath is long forgotten
so the chambers of the heart
fully warm love’s eternal breath.
Beyond the time of life,
undoubtedly, love breathes eternal
and knows only a beginning
but never an end.
Life knows little of eternal longings
and love knows little of the confines of time.
And all that I know with certainty
in the margins of the time in this life
is but this one faultless thing….
I have loved you a lifetime.
Stroll of Poets 2012 Anual Anthology
Addressing the Chair
In sorrowful anguish I denounce
each twinge of anxious blame,
and as the condemnation mounts,
compulsion of necessity same.
With blind regard I isolate,
vast sorrow I do aggrieve.
Imprisoning solitude, exempt mate,
his lonesome chair did leave.
Mere chair and I, we do distress,
afflicted by seclusion
that in our segregatedness
misery bears delusion.
By reprehensible falter
his chair, to thorn does alter.
RELATIONSHIPS, Illiad Press
Mary’s sister lays `neath sun of morn,
she cries to God “Why is not my womb torn?”
Of envious indignation against holy order sworn.
She rests a gentle hand upon her virgin breast,
His preference to her sister could she not protest,
to Mary, not herself, the blessed child born.
Mary’s sister sits `neath midday sun
concealed in dark shroud from everyone,
and soundlessly wept for her sister’s son.
“Now I am known to none and she to all,
on her this sacred blessing doth befall.
Why God am I not the chosen one?”
Mary’s sister stands `neath sun of eve’
to contemplate the son of God to theive,
tho’ hell to she who holy spirits deceive.
Return, return to righteous peace of mind,
escape she must from evil thought unkind
to lift her arms, a burdened heart to heave.
Mary’s sister sits `neath moon of night,
on bloodied knee her sanity took flight.
Beneath great cross reveals her fiendish plight.
Mary sobs! Oh sweet sister sacrificed.
Mary’s sister’s blood with blood of Christ,
abandonment by God she doth requite.
Mary’s sister lifeless this dark day,
to unknown cave her twisted corpse inlay.
Too late, chance past, to sister Mary’s dismay.
Where is God, and where is her salvation?
Mary’s sister far past adoration,
that love of God would twist her heart this way.
THE NATIONAL AUTHORS REGISTRY, President’s Award for Literary Excellence
Mother Nature’s Hand
Where she steps fragrant mosses grow,
drops of rain trickle down her nose,
through the forest trees sunrays kiss her face.
Dark clouds blow past in a windswept grace.
Fire flies light the end of day,
lines of age hide in subtle shades.
Sweet country air traced with baby’s breath,
wild flowers dance, fawn and doe caress.
Among shrubs butterflies at play.
Poplar leaves shelter nested Jays.
Owls wings outstretched over Springs last ice,
plunge down to earth seeking soft brown mice.
Playful squirrels search for berries blue,
in the marsh antlered moose stroll through.
Wild roses bud in a sapling grove.
Hare seeks his burrow, silent coyotes rove.
Winding streams feed this forest life.
Great pines guard all from daily strife.
Wondrous worlds unseen blanketing this land
safe in the cradle of Mother Nature’s hand.
NATIONAL AUTHORS REGISTRY, Nature Competition Honourable Mention
Copyright Christine Falk 2011. Contact the author to obtain permission for use or republication.