Sunday, December 28, 2014

Embers Rekindled by Love

Marti watched the dying embers,
she pulled her sweater tighter
against the chill as she thought of
earlier November’s.

She watched on a mountain top
overlooking her ranch,
Watching light flurries of snow
decorating a Cedar Tree branch.

This was her mother’s get-away
log cabin to paint her landscapes,
She watched her as a child as her
art took many shapes.

Now alone in this world with only
her writing,
Alone with the scenery that an artist’s
eyes would find inviting.

“Mother, I can feel your spirit here,
and this is why I came today to feel
you near.”

Marti was an author of many books of
romance and love,
She was not waiting for a vision from
above, or a love note delivered by a dove.

No folly, no reason or rhyme,
To wait forever for her true love---
was not a crime.

She text her ranch for her supplies
to be sent,
Her stay would be long for her novel
was so passionate---her mind needed to vent.

She described in the content the lover, 
his hair, his eyes, his lips and muscular frame,
And now she had to give him a name.

His black hair, his dark eyes, his masterful lips
and muscles of the “Rock” with dimples that
completed the handsome face,
Could he be from another planet or another race?

He will be what I want him to be,
I can write what pleases me.

Long into the night she wrote,
She stopped only a minute to write a little note.

When she fell asleep---is lost in the memories
of her mind,
It is what woke her that left her confused and
her memory blind.

The knocking on the door was hard and loud,
The antique knocker proved solid and proud.

Marti stood by her bed---her hair fell in blond 
curls flowing down her back,
Her light blue eyes and kissable lips were 
taken aback.

She stumbled to the door without a peep hole to see,
It was probably the supplies they are now bringing to me.

Opening the door was a surprise outside,
Stood a black haired man with dark eyes
dressed in rawhide.

“I am dreaming.” she said out loud because
there was no one to hear,
“I am not a dream, I am real my dear.”

Fine, now the dream is walking and talking
she immediately thought,
She would not talk to a dream---she would
give it naught.

Until he stepped forward and said again,
“It is cold outside, my dear, may I come in.”

She watched as the dream walked in, and
her eyes had a mini-feast,
To fortify her weaken mind---I am finally
insane---at the very least

“I stopped by your ranch on my way to mine,
and Mattie asked me to deliver your supplies, and
I am afraid I came as an unannounced surprise,
of course this I can only surmise.”

“Forgive my manners, My name is Zackary Mills,
I just bought the ranch over the Blue Hill.”

Marti watched his lips as they formed each word,
She was not sure what she missed and what she heard.

When she awoke in mid-morning her supplies were
delivered by a ranch hand,

She said, “But I thought Mattie had sent them
by Mr. Mills who bought the vast bottom land.”

“My cell is now in a dead zone,
and I cannot text Mattie, I am here alone.”

The ranch hand shrugged his shoulders,
and left confused,
Well---she thought my mind I have finally misused.

So late into the night again she wrote---making
her lover in the novel appear,
Words marched across the monitor as her strokes
flew from fear.

Because she could feel Zachary's presents and smell
the freshness of the cold outdoors as she wrote without
She was unstoppable---her imagination was hopping.

She paused to make fresh coffee and stood looking
out the window, just then the man Zachary rode his
black stallion near,
Now---am I seeing a real man or a vision, as he waved and
again he called her dear.

The next day as she stopped to clean out her mother’s desk, 
and room,
She worked all day until late---the darkness rolled in with 
a gloom.

She found a diary of her mother’s in her favorite painting 
place---the attic,
And the words written in it made Marti panic.

It said on a page dated twenty-four years ago,
My Darling Zachary came today, and I had to
tell him before I sent him away---he had a right
to know.

I am pregnant with his child and my husband must 
not find out,
He is powerful and rich and never loved me---this 
he did tell and show, without a doubt.

Zachary begged me to go with him, and I could not go,
And leave the land my father loved so.

Father gave it to me when I was wed,
It was why Fred married me---and would
not leave ever he said.

And on and on her mother wrote---My Love 
Zachary died today from a fall,
When our baby had just begun to crawl.

She looks like me---thank you God---I did not want
Fred making her life hard.
To my surprise he worshiped her all the time,
and called her, “Daddy’s Girl”---she is all mine.

Marti held the diary in her hands for a long while,
Until ---what started as a grin---turned into a beautiful 

Yes, my real Father--- to me will appear,
And now I will know him this time---and no
one has a need to interfere.

Many times she journeyed over the Blue Hills
to visit his spirit there,
She might in reality be insane---but in her happiness 
she did not care.

They rode together side by side on his vast land and
up into the hills,
She rode her pinto Sugar and he---his black Stallion---
her Dad had many skills.

Those who saw her---only saw her when she was
riding with her Dad,
They said she talked and laughed to someone,
but no one was there—to them it was sad.

Many novels she later wrote---with him by her side,
She was his daughter, his dear, his pride.
Daddy’s Girl
When her hair turned white and wrinkles decorated her face,
She knew her Daddy was ahead of the human race.

His spirit had monumental claim on her life,
She had been a daughter, and a wife.

Times of lonely posturing left her strong,
To be weak-willed was wrong.

His spirit guided her over the years,
He waited---to calm her fears.

She was Daddy’s girl still,
White hair and wrinkles---was not her bitter pill.

When her last day on earth was here,
Daddy would return to hold her near.

PurvisBobbi44 is the sole author of these poems and if they are seen anywhere else onthe Internet or in print it was taken without my consent.

Saturday, December 27, 2014

Loves Sweet Spirit

Once in a lifetime I’ve heard it said,
Without true love---one’s heart is dead.

Tender looks of wishful yearning,
Kept her passion forever turning.

Softly his fingers visited her silky skin,
Moaning her lips located his again.

Slow dancing so sweetly tore him apart,
Her soft closeness filled his heart.

When the “Tennessee Waltz” ended,
His heart descended.
Her blue eyes question his intention,                           
His full masterful lips took hers in retention.

The music had stopped---but they danced on,
They waltzed until dawn.

She looked at the light of day,
Then she ran away.

He watched her run from him,
But return she would---when the light was dim.

Because she was an Angel who came back into his life,
On this lonely Island---she had drowned years before
---as his wife.

He never left--- each day as the sun slipped away,
She danced into his arms---he held on tight so she would stay.

True love never dies---an emotion of its own,
It will leave you bruised---and make you groan.

A spirit love she can only be,
They consummated their love by the sea.

Every day he waited for her soft voice,
What else---he had no choice.

To leave without her---he never contemplated,

Their hopes, dreams and lifetime were outdated.

Their spirits lived on for hundreds of years,
All who heard the sad story were in tears.

Two markers showed where they rest,
Under a Palm tree---where above the white doves nest.

On his weather-beaten marker was half a heart,
And craved on hers was the other half---to never be apart.

They still dance every night as the white doves coo,
At the sound of his voice saying---Darling---I love you.

Saturday, December 13, 2014

His Whispers Live in My Heart

Stormy evening I walk on the cliff edges overlooking--- the violent briny waves,
I ponder about so many hearts---calling out---from their watery graves.

Poseidon the Greek God of the sea,
I called to him---many times---bring my Darling Pirate back to me.

You do not need him in your salty waters,
Find other pirates for your saline daughters.

His ship is named after me---Dark Lady---solid vessel of beauty,
And dark because I am sad when he leaves me---for his duty.

Time has gone now---past any family we could create,
Forsaking other men---I still wait.

A hopeless dreamer I am told,
Speaks the uncouth but---extremely bold.

His voice has not faded with the years,
Memories of his dark eyes that shined with love--- brings many tears.

My fingers desire to touch---his masterful lips,
That captured mine---so sweetly—my heart now rips.

Imprinted memories of his arms so strong around my soft frame,
My body recalls the feelings---without shame.

When the lightning strikes over the sea at night,
I can see the Dark Lady riding the waves--- until it is daylight.

I beckon Poseidon to send you to me---for I am very ill,
On this turbulent night---I stand and plead from the highest hill.

And through the breakers appears a sail---with a black flag,
Whipping in the storm---it appeared to be just a rag.

The closer it came---I could see the words---Dark Lady,
Could it be My Darling in the moonlight---just maybe?

His whispers from my heart were loud and clear,
I have come for you---my Sweetheart---my Dear.

My spirit left my old body---I no longer needed---lying
on the foam-covered salty rocks,
My spirit is young and beautiful now---minus all time clocks.

Life is worth living now with my Pirate and me,
Happily we sail---the now tranquil---turquoise sea.

I thanked Poseidon when I saw him years later upon his oceans,
He bowed and waved so full of his own emotions.

My Darling Pirate is by my side,
To kiss and hold me, I am his pride.

Never give up I am thinking,
Watch for your lighthouse---it could be blinking,
To let you know a love is coming---it is not winking.
© BEPH 2013 All Rights Reserved

PurvisBobbi44 is the sole author of this poem and if it is seen anywhere else on the Internet or in print it was taken without my consent.

Monday, December 8, 2014

Until She Cried

She looked into his sea-green eyes,
Hoping his love for her was still alive

She cupped his handsome face in her hands,
She portrayed only her love---implying no demands.

She charted his face with her eyes of blue,
His hands were in her long blonde hair---then too.

She traced his lips,
With her silky-velvet fingertips.

She had to know if love still lived in his heart,
Before he left her---this time to be apart.

In the Twilight moments before it was dark,
She urgently looked-for---a tender spark.

She stood in the moonlight looking exquisitely forsaken,
She had only one heart to give---and it was taken.

She could heard his friend in the distance as they waited,
He knew this journey---she hated.

She knew his huge muscular body---had a heart inside,
Still he walked away---but none of her love died.

She tried to kiss his lips goodbye---but he turned his head,
Telling her their love was dead.

He gave her a quick look---then jumped on his bike,
She watched his Harley go out-of-sight---he and his friends were so alike.

She thought---I will never be his bride,
So dejected---she cuddle their baby closer to her side.

She was being strong---his jade eyes smiled looking up at her face,
She said--Mama will take care of you my darling---in this very place.

The baby cooed and smiled---until she cried,
For on this day a love had died.

In The later Years

Silence was reverent after the preacher prayed,
Lavender roses were softly placed on her coffin---now where she laid.

Her son was twenty now---very much of a man,
His jade eyes were shining with tears unshed---he
wiped them away with his huge hand.

In the shadows of a cherry tree---stood an older version of him,
A man whose jade eyes had not dimmed.

Everyone had left the grave site,
All but her son---he stood there until night.

The older man stayed in the dark shadows from the moon,
All night they stood---until the next day---it was noon.

Her son knelt and said, “Mama I will be back---I love you.”
Then the older man came forward and knelt too.

He asked her to forgive him for being a fool---then he cried in this quiet place,
Suddenly a warm soft breeze caressed his still handsome face---

Then he knew,
She had always loved him too.

Their son stood in the shadows watching his dad,
He had promised her forgiveness of him---but not now--- he was too sad.

They both walked out together---not a word was spoken,
They both knew her heart had been broken.

The older man got into his car,
He was tired and---his journey would be far.

Their son gave his dad a quick look---then jumped on his bike,
The father watched his son's Harley go out of site,

The last glimpse of his son would probably be his last---he sighed,

Until he cried.
PurvisBobbi44 is the sole author of these poems and if they are seen anywhere else on the Internet or in print it was taken without my consent.