P.S. I Love You Poems of P.S. Colley

                                                     My dearest empathic soul, May you be an    invisible intruder   intended for the    impossibilities of an imperfect world. May you sing stealthily through all wrong  with a healthy, truthful spirit song.  May you reach beyond your night filled dreams, and stretch beyond each frightful scheme with a wishful, radiating resilience,  blissfully creating a brilliance  that breaks the defeated night with a new dawn's freshest,  most precious, light.  Unlike others that waste a day  to wearily waste away, engrossed in the dross throng of each lost day now long gone, may you remain unseen  by prideful kings and foolish queens, proud rulers of betrayed beggars, ...

    Blank page sits silently screaming,        staring at me like a frail, famished child hungering for some mere morsel of kindness. Please, my greedy feeder, toss me one stale and crusty crumb that I might crave the delight of another..... that will never come until poet pen satisfies my cruelest hunger with its cleverest conclusion. Barren bed weeps wishfully whispering, beckoning to me like a sweet song siren bawling alone atop crags of an angry sea. Please, my selfish lover, touch me with your painful tenderness that I might revel in delight of another... that will never come until midnight lusts fulfill my cruelest yearning with comfort's imperfect illusion. Darkest hour stalks savagely looming, frightening me like a reaper's cold stare searing my mind with its unknown cavern void. Please, my tragic tormentor, take me to your merciless darkness that I might forget the delight of another... that will never come until swe...

Those twisting, turning, tossing currents keep rolling, rocking, towards the sea to dash on stones, a bashing, crashing, pounding, hounding me. Rush in, rush out, tides in, tides out,  a whirling, swirling angry sea, licking shorelines, ebb and flow, tossing, bossing me. Throbbing, bobbing, up and down, I'm kicking, flailing, fighting sea for feet on sand that melts to panic, Someone, rescue me! Fearful, tearful, bleary, weary, float and drift, last struggle ceased, floating frothy foam,  finally, a beach to comb. My Lord delivered me.                                                                                               ~P. S. Colley~                ...

  To trust one must through life's deceit, Be just robust, despite defeat, Overlook those strangers' tender glances And luck's prearranged, pretend romances. Learn to accept it all despite the doubt. Laugh, don't bawl. Smile, don't pout. For truth rears its ugly green-eyed head When lovers' fears begrudge their bed. And after all tales are spun and told The trusting rails to shun the cold Reality.  Love can never last forever. Fate is too cruel, too fast, too clever. -P.S. Colley c. 1987 Spring 1989

                    They burst clean through the atmosphere    so they could collect fresh life forms here. Their first sample came from NY City,                                but it proved too deep distaste               So they abandoned it in Chicago,                           as they reviewed huge heaps of waste. Then they turned to try one in D.C.                            but their leader choked on it                          So they spurned it in the Mississippi,                          ...

                           Great Poets know it.                               Their poetry shows it.                                            Laconic poetry,                                                              short and sweet                                                            metric ally flows a simpler beat. With minimal words            ...