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

  One who has aspirations  to be nothing but a king, a queen, or anything that puts one above another, be it a beautiful sister or a courageous brother, destroys peace destroys unity, destroys freedom for all, destroys beauty and all souls that wallow in their fall. Aspirations should uplift. Aspirations should inspire, Giving life to live each gift With each fervent desire for peace, for unity, for freedom for all, for love of beauty and all souls that  rise above their fall. For aspirations that control, aspirations that are cruel, give strife to life with each wanton willful rule. Harm others who have  aspirations to be nothing more than themselves, graciously accepted, unapologetically connected for peace,  for unity, for freedom for all, for love of beauty from all souls that rise above their fall. ~ P.S. Colley~  c. 2024    

    Impending Storm Thunder boasts its rumbling into a darkening distance. Leaf swirl dances on a rustling balmy breeze. Standing firm against the rush with a wishful resistance, The courageous fall to beg on humbled, bended knees. Tender sapling sways away and for tender mercy cries To shirk and shun the unforgiving wild east wind, Beseeching aged oak to shield from an oncoming tide Of a force that strikes fear into the faint hearts of men. Bold Bluster rustles into a formidable forbidden future, Dares men to dance to tunes of his mad, sad commands. Slithering weak, a bleak resistance seems nearly futile, As its echo is carried far beyond the ears of man. Battles bellow their cruelty across war-desolate lands, Seizing victims to a fate that the merciless planned. Once demonic lusts hold frail life in their greedy hands, Fools become slaves to the graves of destinies damned. For no longer do men seek Him and His purest power, Nor abhor lies they craved for crazed men to tell....

    How dare one drink from the rancor well, potent poisons of hopeless lies you tell? So foul sweetly sordid, unsavory stench,  No soul could ever hope to acquire to quench the thirst for truth  denied this brew That casts its cruelty  whisper across a shaded sun, eclipses life's effulgence from darkened everyone. Who dares well-dip to simply sip  from tenderness starved and parched lips, Perceptions of bold tall tales told as perceived ills neither be they farce,  nor are they mercifully real? The toxic twist of truth that soaks into the throat of prayers that choke upon half-thoughts of hateful lies, parade in love's most pomp  and masked disguise. Each drop of deception that they secretly hide pools puddles welling wearily in tearless eyes yet cares merely enough to meagerly stare at a reflection of some soul sincere   intently eager to impair. An arid desert dryness that none  ...

      Cyclone  A gentle rain on man descends To swirl a cyclonic, tempestuous wind. Inside its eye, a wise one said, There is a calm that fuels the dread. Mad tornado spinning out of control, Any unsuspecting moment, creates a hole That flings its edges from its middle rush, Drowning, destroying all within its touch. Few can escape its chaotic parts. Those who try, suffer broken hearts, As to the eye,  They pray  and cry, "When will it all come to pass,   What thou hast taught us from our past? To surrender our lives to your will," To leave dread no hole it cannot fill. For when the eye is prone to collapse, It surrenders to the dread at last, And all within                            Become whole again,                                                   ...

  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 ~ c. 1989

 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'...

      World of white, World of white, What happened while I slept the night? Why did skies turn some sullen gray Then happily fall stark dark away Into softness across a lost wintery day? How dare tiny flakes of chill peaceful delight Cover souls in some still and downward flight, Soft land unheard in piles of whitewashed bright? The wise squirrel stirs within her nest, Her newborns tucked beneath her breast. Does all the earth prepare to rest? Will rabbits nestle, restful in their holes? Will fox kits wrestle, zestful in the cold? Will blue jays raid the chipmunk's hold? Gentle pleasure piled mild and muted deep, Is your heart of mirth of worth to keep Beneath the mounds of midnight's sleep? World of white, World of white, Will you grow deeper into the night? And if on sweet tomorrow's wake, Will mind find time to contemplate The sunshine sparkle gay on grey garden gate? Will flower bow, burdened with tips of snow, Sip on tender bundles dipping low Into sidewalk puddles...

  Gentle Meltdown Undone, silvery sun melts each icicle tear to revelry run its Unfettered descent down drenched bark trails that gaily Undressed the still silhouette shoulders of a million chilled limbs, disarmed and Unknown , alone, rejected by a frozen lover's cruelest denial. Dread dances Unheard by the tender word of a secret daydream parade. Its Unsung song sings sweet each precious drip into a more mellow morrow Unencumbered by the stark chill stare of clouds adrift, unafraid, afloat, Unleashed to freely flee across a white-washed limitless horizon Until the nearly clear sky cries away another arid, warmth-dried day,  Unfurling every elation's evening inspiration to laugh aloud an Underlying joy that radiates hope, born of its most tender mercy. ~P.S. Colley ~ c. 2024                                                         ...

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   c. 2019