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

          Determination Though ocean waves crash upon me, Though sun bakes skin to brown, Though dark nights laugh cold boldly, Nature will not frighten me down. Though thoughts of love confuse me, Though the clowns make me a clown, Though friends avoid, abuse me, Feelings will not drag me down. Though you and I may never be, Though together may never be found, Though there is no us, just you, just me, Loneliness will not lull me down. Though worlds unnumbered spin aimlessly, Though silence stalks all sound, Though I feel empty an eternity, My mind will not bind me down. ~P.S. Colley     c. 2012

  One  Woman's Life Youthful beauty faded, vanity's vigor gone, I search within to listen  to an inner familiar song only to discover Love's blessings are far more beautiful. Wounded warrior scathed, courage torn and worn, I battle without to defy  a war cry that  drowns me out only to discover Hatred's din is far more deafening. Dream's hopes lacerated, wound, bound and healed by Him,   I accept again to ascend  stumbling block trails that never end only to discover His love is far more powerful. ~P.S. Colley

 So Be Kind We know not of another's suffering, The why or how of their agency use. We only know each is divine spirit, Which is reason to avoid their abuse. We know not of another's suffering, The where or when of each experience taught. We do know each child touches a Savior  When they reach for a consoling thought. So be kind So be kind For each brother of mankind For until all are aware That the secret is "to care", Each soul's suffering can never end. We know not of another's suffering. The who they are and what they think. We do know that each is a wanderer, Who needs a hand that holds all in sync. ~P.S. Colley January 2025 Songs of Fallen Angels

 Ode to Spring Cleaning Oh, I so enjoy the entry of spring With its time to awake and be clean again. So, I construe this glorious list, Bequeathed to those who might enlist: Gather the twigs. Stack winter's limbs Beside the pit Where firelight begins. Take the rake, Groom the yard. Remove the dead snake. Scrape off the chard From last year's grill. Flip the compost in its bed Pile beneath the daffodils. Where the stone path led To the wildflower meadow. Replant the lavender. Fertilize the shadows For ferns and coriander. Along the grassiest part of the brook, Move the gnome beneath the Gum. Put him at the old root's gnarly nook. Turn his face into the sun. Rake away the decaying leaves From December's melting pond. Do not disturb the frog, please. Turn the fountain on. Fill to full the feeders. Strew corn out for the deer. Dump three packs in the seeders Sprinkle wildflowers everywhere. Rake the acorns into small piles. Rake up all the stones and sticks. Stack them in ...

A friend in a pen A friend in a pen is all I seek To care with flair, as poets speak. I have no lust for sin's romance Nor for the thrill of unwilled chance. Just a friend in a pen to read and feel So moved to prove that love is real. I have no wish for pictured page Nor face to face a face that's aged. Just a friend in a pen to share the me That hides within where no one sees. I have no care for idle chat Nor for the sport of tiff and spat. Just a friend in a pen to write and say That thoughts aren't games for fools to play. I have no time for tired advice Nor cliches chore, a bore device: Just a friend in a pen too deep for prose Or small talk's pointless, turned up nose. I have no need to note my name, A true friend would require no claim. Just a friend in a pen who adores my style And despite time, recalls my smile. I do not know if in life's heart Dwells someone who will fill this part, Yet, a friend in a pen I seek to reach While no one cares save me and thee....

  I Am I am prone to speak masterfully of meadows because I created the beauty of Earth. I am prone to seek the miserable in shadows     as mine adversary steals purpose in birth. I am prone to speak most  to those       who do not know  who I am. For mankind, I am the Great I Am. ~P.S. Colley Nov. 2024

Living Statue Silent, he sits entranced in his own enigma of thought. I wait. I watch, Not knowing how to reach or touch him. And if I did, what would I discover? A man enslaved by his daring dreams of conquest, Or a little boy daydreaming of barefoot wading  in cool, shallow pools? So far away, absorbed in other worlds, is he. Too far away for loving eyes to see, for aching arms to reach, for romantic dreams to whisper, for lonely lovers to embrace. I wait. I watch, Not knowing how to reach or touch him. But if I could, what would I say? Come rest in the peace of my fond embrace, Or go away you hurtful fool that disturbs my life like a tempest tossed sea stirring? Your faraway absorptions in other worlds leave me Too far away for loving eyes to see, for aching arms to hold, for romantic dreams to whisper, for lonely lovers to embrace. I wait. I watch, As you break my heart. ~ P.S. Colley Sept. 1, 1989 Cries of the Unheard       

    Teardrop Born of mankind's melancholy moments a tiny teardrop,  trembling,  trails His face to drip and ripple, resounding, reaching others; resides in pools of purest, peaceful place. Captured, caught upon a wild wind,  whistling   into a whirling stream of teardrop trickles, trudging onward, forced to flow, to forever flee;  finds freedom a fleeting dream. Waits, watching those dashed upon damp moss stones. Some sadly sit   'til sun shall dry, as others flirt too freely with false shorelines,  soon to sand,  sadly sink in soil,  they fade, then die. Yet onward, on rushes, unrelenting teardrop, trickling,  twisting,  turning towards the massive mainstream sea of mingling,           man-managing; avoiding shadowed shorelines and  shimmering,  sun sparkled  wave caps, unleashed and free. Until the Master spies the unstirred ...

Joy that is hidden sits alone, sits wasted, begotten, then forgotten, Never gratefully tasted. But joy that is shared is magnified,  Twofold to tenfold, Grace undenied. So let joy that is mine, Thy gift, return thine,  Never spared, forever shared,                      Eternally refined.                       ~ P.S. Colley ~