Embroidered

Many words I’ve written for thee

Deeds done and songs sung.

Six years ago you came

I remember it so clearly

Your blood was too sweet for safety

That it had to be diluted

And your mother

Looking smaller and stronger

Than ever before

Stumbling to feed you.

The pain in her face

Overcome by the joy

At seeing you expect her

Her soft touch and her smell

Her sound and her warmth.

That just by being herself

She could bring you comfort,

Eased all the pain of your coming.

Now from baring you into the world

Your mother now has scars

That she wears proudly,

As though embroidered with pride.

So many days ago,

So many spills and fevers and tears,

And each one is such a treasure.

My clever curly boy,

Young storyteller in the making,

Thank you for teaching me

That the most important thing I’ll ever do

Is be a loving dad for you.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry for our boy on his birthday.

Reflections

Does the sea reflect the sky

Or the sky the sea?

For the water cool and still

They placid extract a pure blue.

Yet if they swell and spit

Should they whirlpool

I see black clouds enraged

Above my splitting gunnels.

If I survive my storm

And you weather yours

Should our eyes meet again

I’ll find love reflected in yours

On distant sandy shores.

– Vagabond Prophet

Fruits of the Spirit #7

Love as defined by the poets dictionary:

Definition: Love allows for this break in style.

Of love we the poets agree to say little

Of love we the poets agree to say much,

For it stifles the verbose

And makes garrulous

Those wonderful few who are traditionally

Iconically

Ironically

Laconic.

It’s big ideas from small minds, still better than all the complacency of the brilliant.

It’s the ink in this pen, only being itself no matter where it’s placed.

Love is the guerilla act of kindness

In minefield valleys, and stormy mountains.

It is love that perished in an act

Of veil tearing demonstration

That love and justice need each other

To be themselves.

In the dying of love, death was defeated, how lovely.

Love is the adhesive property, holding my cells together.

Love always extends the helping hand,

Not caring how barbarous the individual in need may be.

Love holds two souls together in affection, adoration, and commitment.

Love blots out ones tears with tender lips.

Antonyms: Hatred, fear, self preservation at the cost of others well being.

Only love inflates the space between the words, to remind you your story will stay afloat.

– Vagabond Prophet

– That’s me finished, @mildreflections it’s all yours now pal.

Hurricane

I don’t believe in true love

Or in soulmates

But I know what happened to me

And I believe in addiction.

You did not screech or beseech

With kissable lips

And raised eyebrow

With clever fingers set your snare.

I was yours.

You hooked me

With the efficiency of a hurricane,

I became forever yours.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry