Moonlight sparkles on the water
As I drift lazily by, within this dream.
The languor of a summer night
Encapsulates the instant
The goddess whispers my name.
Her voice so beautiful, ethereal,
It’s like the sighing of the breeze.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Originally published 8 May 2016
Travelling seventy miles a second
As sunlight explodes through the trees.
Wind fire blowing through the neurons
Carried on the autumn breeze.
And it’s good to be alive,
Blood pulsing, raining fire,
As the journey flies beneath the wheels.
With the trees as golden as desire,
Roadside sentinels, as my chariot drives me.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
photo credit: Javier Díaz Barrera (javierdiazbarrera.es) Últimos rayos del sol de verano via photopin (license)
The sun has a special intensity this time of year
As if she knows that if she did not shine today:
A “if not now, then when” mentality
To squeeze every last ounce of romance
From this brief affair, before she is gone
And we are alone with harsh winter, again.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Day 28 of my review of the last twelve months and a poem about the fragility of life …
photo credit: Natalia Medd It’s getting cooler every day ) via photopin(license)
Butterfly flutters
In the early autumn sun,
Holding on to life.
When forever is just a day
Every wingbeat matters.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Day 16 of my review of the last twelve months and a poem about summer nights ( with no mention of Travolta or Grease)
photo credit: Ophelia via photopin(license)
Moonlight sparkles on the water
As I drift lazily by, within this dream.
The languor of a summer night
Encapsulates the instant
The goddess whispers my name.
Her voice so beautiful, ethereal,
It’s like the sighing of the breeze.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
I,
I stutter,
Struggling to make the words
That form so beautiful
In my mind
Travel to my lips, and form the sounds
Of rose petals for you
To walk barefoot upon.
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:She Walks in Beauty
Lord Byron
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
photo credit: Niccolò Caranti Miss Italia via photopin (license)
There is nothing behind the eyes,
Beauty skin deep,
Dermatologically challenged,
Because there is nothing within.
Feathered adornment, but a show.
Flesh glows with nature’s bounty
With decay in the soul.
Because there is nothing within.
The heart retreats before
The barren touch,
The demeaning gaze of them.
Because they have nothing within.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
photo credit: Natalia Medd It’s getting cooler every day ) via photopin (license)
Butterfly flutters
In the early autumn sun,
Holding on to life.
When forever is just a day
Every wingbeat matters.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Day 4
Those deep and dark eyes,
That beatific smile,
Lilting words spoken from honey lips;
But there are storms, black,
Hidden far down inside.
© 2014 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
photo credit: Kimberly Portrait Project via photopin (license)
Those deep and dark eyes,
That beatific smile,
Lilting words spoken from honey lips;
But there are storms, black,
Hidden far down inside.
© 2014 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
