POEMS - 2018 - The Rake

THE RAKE

What a witty man he was,

A talk-singer,

A rogue of his day,

Hitching one word to another,

In a mesmerizing way,

His crisp white collars were starched,

At a local cleaners guild,

Where he chased the ladies in skirts,

Though his lust could never be filled,

His songs were used to scorn the women,

Ballads of scheme and skill,

To the end that the verse was his only love,

And the chase,

Not the woman,

His thrill,

Until one bitter winter’s night,

Alone on the dark side of the moon,

There He saw the face of God,

A vision none too soon,

For the gypsy spirits had circled his bed,

He the “Old Man and the Sea”,

And there amongst the waves of life,

He bent a repentant knee,

And found the love he’d been searching for,

As his body dropped onto the floor,

And his spirit washed upon a shore,

Where his wounded heart,

Would waste no more,

But Oh! the twinkle in his eye,

Grew dry,

As he bid the world "Good-Bye",

And he let out a wail,

A terrible cry,

And a heavy hearted,

Woeful sigh,

For across the ocean he could see,

The pain he had left in his wake,

And though his soul was finally free,

Theirs bore the scars … of a rake.

February 6, 2018 

THE RUB

There is an infinite supply of light available, and a single spark can set the world on fire for God, but darkness pounces upon light, and if it cannot destroy the light, then darkness tries to rule over it, until it is hated by the ones it was sent to save.

February 6, 2018