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

                                Flickering maniacally in its                                     maddening stillest silence, Night drags its sack of drowsy dreams  into morning's wakeup regret. Yet, barely alive, ventures out,  (despite the dread of deepest doubt), and subtly attempts a starving  moment's lack of any  soulful, hearing peer.      Ingratiates itself to be                           beholden to a more tender,  more merciful ear.   For regret is born of darkness                    softly snowing down  into mounds               ...

 Caged Angels Wounded angels caged behind bars of remorse and regret, Trapped, mourn sore for their worn and torn tender hearts, Begging simply to forgive, to be forgiven, to forget, To one day awake to a fleeing, fresh and joyful start. They rattle and battle the keyless lock with their bleeding wings, Forgetting how to fly, how to pray, how to soulfully sing. They scream merciful pleas to their deafened woeful masters, Cry drowning tears into pools of ten-thousand soul's hereafters. Angels enraged by those who desire to possess them, Who never realize they could never be possessed again. Once, they belonged to a kind and most loving Heavenly Father That loves them whether no mere man could ever for forever, Into an eternity where love feels no torture nor pain Beyond joy's measure, and for no mortal's selfish gain. For those who desire to possess another have no valor,  Nor do they value souls of those who chose love's purest power. They hold love captive in hate'...

 Times of Us Glowing glances, evading our pleasure,                   scatter, then secretly adorn, Some might perchance invite, entrance. Times of us renewed, reborn. Did I ever say, "I want you",   or did I only call you "my friend"? Want is too willful, too skillful a merciless master When fate awaits at want's wild, wishful end. Simple smiles traded, coveting our treasure, flatter, then wishfully are worn, Yet for a while, measure miles. Times of us, renewed, reborn. Did I ever say, "I need you", or did I only call you "my friend?" Need is too strong, too long an unfilled yearning When fate awaits at need's neglectful end. Mere memories, fading into yesterday's weather, tattered, then heartache torn, Yet of these, some taunt and tease. Times of us, renewed reborn. Did I ever say, "I love you" or did I only call you "my friend"? Love is too deep, too steep a shadowed precipice When fate aw...

 Rosebud A tiny rosebud once was I, Given as a gift of love to a beautiful woman from a loving man. Placed in the sunlight that I might grow, she cared for me, And as I blossomed, she looked on, never forcing open my petals, But rather anticipating each new morning that I might open and show her my beauty. When she was sad, I tried to give her some small comfort in my presence. When she was joyful, I could feel her radiance filter throughout the room like shafts of sunlight. As this beautiful woman watched me grow with her love and patient care, I absorbed those feelings from her. If only she could know that she made each tiny petal open to reach for more life until all had blossomed and become beautiful. If only I could say to her, "Oh watchful, loving woman, thank you for making me beautiful in blooming." ~P.S. Colley~

  A Bigot's Prayer Because we are often taught to think what another man says is right, We are victims of grave errors until God must shed some light. Too often we hide from our brothers behind masks of man's design, Refusing to share with another the beauty of peace in God's time. God may forgive me my bigotry, but how do I meet the eyes Of my neglected and heart-heavy brother, who sees my excuse a white lie? I beg of you, brother, forgiveness, that I may take your hand in mine And together, with God, search for the beauty of peace in God's time. We can worship together in fine churches crafted of both our design. We can blend our cultures together until there is no "yours" or "mine" . And then God will smile upon us as an endless light of peace shall shine, And we'll laugh at man's misguided bigots as we seek the beauty of peace in God's time. ~P.S. Colley~

 Whispers I cannot run. I cannot stay. I want to speak but cannot say What whispers to my heart that breaks? Life just takes and takes and takes. I cannot laugh. I cannot cry. I want to know but don't know why. What whispers to my mind of dreams? Life ignores my tears and screams. I cannot live. I cannot die. I want to feel but there's no time. What whispers to my body that works? Life is strife and struggle and hurt. I cannot run. I cannot stay. I cannot stand another day. What whispers as this woman feels? Life shoves hard my shackled heels. ~P.S. Colley~

     Father of Mine Father of mine, Wise and wonderful fathomless love, You live and give to me and mine As if life and time were all ours And selfishly not your own. Father of mine, Deep with wit, those piercing eyes That seek and spy each offspring's need As if duty to daughters and sons bound you And your joy depended on it. Father of mine, No other, save mother, dare touch me so. You smile and wile the hour with me As if nothing more pleasant or important Existed at that moment. Father of mine, How oft, heart soft, my tears have  Soaked your strong shoulders, Yet, you hear and care as no one else can, As if my very life depended on your response So, you offered it. ~P.S. Colley~ For Dad Died Summer 2018     

    Serpent's Entry Hissing his uncaged wrath, his tory's serpent by His rejection sad enraged, his  divine soul no more, first-born beaten to his exile enslaved. His estranged heart unleashed, by his proud imprisoned intent, harbors  his vision of himself, harmed and wounded, sorely bent, unarmed twisted, he hisses for his startled victim dazed  to sit in fear of his beguiling glance, intensely entranced, engaged. His own feigned pain drowned, drenched in sin, remains his deception, unscathed. No brave servant dare meet his stare alone without purest power's fury to face his  fiendish, fanged face that recognizes neither compassion, nor mercy. His armor scaley, outcast polished, shines like sharpest shards of glass, as his tongue tastes scents of innocence, bound on his belly, he slithers past. No timid servant dare step forth resisting his lone restrictive threat to breathe death in his dreaded deadlock that squeezes to steal each breath. U...

 God's Unicorn Into man's world God's unicorn Flies and thus bright hope is born That legends live and myths are true That time and worlds begin anew. For in man's world God's unicorn Sees and feels the helpless mourn, Entrapped in snares of man's design, Where the world is sad to find. And for man's world God's unicorn Weeps and sleeps her peaceless scorn, Appalled and galled by all she sees. For her there is no peace. But to man's world God's unicorn Armed with power's sacred horn, Shares her message of truth and light, Inching towards the mountain height. Not of man's world God's unicorn remains pure and chaste, remains untorn by foolish words and evil deeds, her master's voice she willingly heeds. Thus, for man's world God's unicorn becomes the beacon midst the storm. So strange, unique, so rare, so wise, she seems a myth to unchaste eyes. Too soon man's world and God's unicorn shall be renewed, shall be reborn...

    Covenant As one walks tall through halls of life's learning places,  sometimes with a scowl most foul and frightening,  there comes a slight of a smile's effulgence enlightening,  radiating warmth to embrace tender cherubic faces. For men are born for zealous joy, not for jealous glory, trapped in godless webs within a lost, forsaken place, where no goodness is left for anyone, except their mortal story of sweetest salvation 's divine nectar, or bitterest taste of death's disgrace. May time's breath breathe fresh and freely   each merciful, momentous fond memory  that joyfully sings of aspiring mortal growth, to most gently heal and mend   the most broken hearts of men, entwined in shared eternal, solemn, sacred, oaths. ~P.S. Colley

I'm Sorry I'm sorry, friend, for harsh words. I'm sorry, friend, for pain. Although words come out so easily they can never be captured , again. And like harsh words, and painful thoughts, Our love should come easily, too. Flowing freely from a forgiving heart to be recaptured in each simple thing we do. I never said that I didn't love you. I never said that I didn't care. I only said a million words that stung the midnight air. And like willow arms wisping in the wind, Words lash and sting and strike, Often leaving an open warrior's wound  that never heals just right. I'm sorry friend for those words. I'm sorry for their pain. Yet, sorry cannot erase a mind or capture "us" again. So, like a child, I gaze at you, Praying you will understand that I did not mean to hurt you so, Only to extend my hand. ~ P.S. Colley ~