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Cecil Miller Aug 2015
Her memory, the love of she,
In slumber,
That time when sadness sooths itself,
Pays to me a call.
And I, a lone warlock in the dark,
Feel the mattress demit as she sits,
And know her gentle touch on my face,
As I did when I was young.
I  am trembled by her resonance,
(*******, I am trying to sleep!)
Then, I wake to understand what has transpired.
Then, am blessed to have felt her love once more.
Then, I bid her go to God.
But, I do thank her for her visit.
This is a new poem. I submitted it as soon as it was complete. I spent about half an hour working with it. It is very personal. 3:49pm. Aug 19, 2015.
Cecil Miller Aug 2015
I will not call you my baby,
Until I can be your only baby.
You maneuver around a subject
With the litheness of a danseur.
Though I would like to love you,
If you would let me love you,
Loneliness has never been what drives me.
It is love to which I answer.
I can see the youthfulness,
And much more, for my sleuthfulness.
Are you seeking any other than me,
Who is eager to applaud as to centre stage you bound?
For just a while more, I wait for first frame.
It could be so grand to see how you move your frame.
I have wondered if your dance would be as spry
As the clever way you manage to avoid.
I wrote this in about ten minutes. I finished it just now, at 11:30pm.
I hope that this bit of poetry is as exciting as an enthralling ballet.
Cecil Miller Aug 2015
He sings with me as if in a dream
on the rolling hills of green
In a voice so clear every man can hear
Every word we mean -

Backed-by-a-choir, he beats on his tamborine
He's soft; and slightly off-key -
We are the ones that we want to love, and fortunate are we -

His lips, they purse around each syllable. His hair is moved in the breeze -
He is the spirit I've been channeling; Forever He and Me -

Two-by-two the dyads move,
Swaying in the dance -
The sun, a bobble, shines in our eyes-  
By the Universe entranced -

Two are joined by the choir, the sun
And the face of the dancing crowds -
The cone-of-power confirms the manifest,
Then we ascend to the clouds -
I started writing this poem in 1995 and finished it about a year ago. Originally it was about a union between Man and God. It reads like story of lovers in song at a music festval. It could be either, or both. Even as I added it to hellopoetry, I was tweeking it. Think of it as lovers being called up to The Rapture. Their Savior is their love. The subject and the object are both male, but in poetry what's in a pronoun anyway?
Cecil Miller Aug 2015
I hear you calling.
Your beckoning to me.
You don't want me to leave.
Your want me to stay.

You tell me how you'll miss me,
Then question my loyalty,
Ask what you could say
To convence me to remain.

I can't turn away
From my destiny.
I'm following the light
That comes to me in dreams
In the hours of the night.

It's rare to see beyond
The scope of one's existence.
I want to live
A life that is enriched
With wide-splayed experience.

There are oceans I want to see,
And parades that honor life.
I want to beat on drums
And stroll along the boulevard.

You grab on to my arm,
As you say you won't let me go.
I sat up last night
And thought of how you wield control.

Now see the blood in my eyes
With the lack of your faith.
Baby, I know it,
Your love is a wraith.

Blood in my eyes,
Slack in my faith,
Baby, I honor,
I commemorate
Those who follow
Their dreams evermore.
Live the dream,
That's what it's for.

The day has come to reconcile
Yourself to what is to come.
The power that you had
Over my life now is gone.

I won't wish you sadness,
And I know I won't reflect.
I put the past behind me,
We never could connect.

I hope your dreams come true.
And your life won't make you blue.
Accept that I am leaving,
And there is nothing to say or do.

Watch, if you want, I'll glisten.
While I'm dancing down the lane.
I'll be a speck of light.
There will be no refrain.
Another piece I started in the mid 1990's, but put the final touches on just recently. Originally titled "(I Can't Turn Away From) My Destiny",  it was writen from an emotional place. The cadence is irregular. Sometimes it rhymes sometimes it does not. It is what it is.
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