Wanting To Know Her

“Wanting To Know Her”

 

The gracefulness of her beauty

What my eyes observe, my soul yearns for

Thriving by the minute

Day by day, landscaping the iris of my eyes

 

The stillness I feel in my kindness

Leads to a quietness, which grows in my soul

Wanting to hold her

Like I imagine so many times before

 

The chambers in my mind

Has plenty of room

Wanting to capture

Her emotions

 

Unforgiving I am, the desires. The passions

Of wanting her

To adore her

And get close to her

 

Her impression

What she is thinking

Her manner

The way she carries herself

Like nothing I have ever seen

 

Words pressed

Upon my lips

Speechless, not knowing

What to say

 

Like the warmth of the rising sun

My eyes

Embrace her exquisiteness

With the hint of an affectionate smile

 

Her image engraved in the walls of my mind

Like a rose blossoming on the first day of spring

April rain diminishing upon her sensuality

Embraced by the warmth of my smile

She holds the beauty of Mother Nature in her palms

 

Like the maple leaves of spring

Their fall colors

Are those of her fashions

Always nourishing the essence

Of my soul

 

My emotions closing in

I think to myself

This mind of a broken down fighter

Getting strong, wanting to know her

 

©Arthur Henn 2008

The Poet

“The Poet”

A seed, of unearthed words,

Growing

Upon the soul of

The unknown poet

 

A heart of emotions

Capturing

The beauty of nature

Through unspoken words

 

The broken down fighter he was

Powerless

The beast of seizures

Not letting him get back into the ring

 

His heart subtle and tame

Suffering from pain

Damaged and broken

From being in the ring

 

His heart valued the love of the ring

A prisoner of unearthed words

Words intimate, with his soul

Whispering in the corridors of his mind

 

What will unfold of this fighter?

A future of desire and passion

To write

Instead of fight

 

The life he lived as a fighter

Etched, engraved upon the walls of his heart

The beast

Lies down, falling off to sleep

 

Searching the world over

The beauty of nature

Grows

Preparing him for a new role

 

The roots

Of his tree

Knows not what’s

Growing

 

Words always there

Hidden

Waiting for his true soul

To be set free

 

The observation of a beautiful woman

Encircles his future

A legacy of what use to be a fighter

 

 

Turned poet

©Arthur Henn 2008

 

 

Mans Heart

 

“Mans Heart”

 

The tree of man continues to grow

His roots, shallow and deep

The sun above him

Shines warm and bright

The ground he walks on

Hardened and barren

The leaves of fall

That of race not color

Scurries with the winds of change

Blown across

The ground

His floor of opinion

Rests in the palm of his hands

 

Looking into gods majestic painted sky

Rain mixed with tears of sorrow

He reaches into his heart

Grasping hold of his soul

Shaking hands with his lord and savor

Asking for forgiveness

Tears mixed with rain

Nourishing barren ground

That which was cynical

Is renewed with Gods living seed

 

Walking the crossroads

God wants him to follow

Flowing with milk and honey

Seeing things differently

Preparing himself

for the gates of heaven

 

©Arthur Henn 2008

My Last Day to Live

“My last Day to Live”

 

 

He whispers in my ear

It’s time to bring you home

The prince of darkness

Is casting shadows of demons over you

~

You have finished your time

Now it’s your time

To say goodbye

To all your friends

Friends you love

~

This is my extended version

Of time

Your prayer, granted

For many know not the day or hour

That I come

~

This is who I am

This is for all

Who I love

~

We don’t say goodbye

Goodbye is not in my vocabulary

My dream

Is to share the love with all of you

~

Spending solitude time

With my lord and savior

Thanking him for a prayer granted

I wake up to catch

Gods painted sky

Unfolding

Unto darkness

~

The silhouettes of nature

Embraced by the warmth

Of his sun

Nature spreads her wings

In awe of a beautiful sunrise

Walking the shoreline,

Feeling the sea embrace my feet one last time

~

A seagull soars high above

Sending me signals

In natures own language

Telling me, everything will be alright

~

I ask God to show me the gift of a child taking there first steps

Again

He does

I smile

~

I ask God to let me hear the cry of a new born baby

He does

I smile

~

I ask God to put a woman

On the final crossroads of this day

One of many that I can embrace

That’s ill

Sharing the love of two souls

Embraced with one another

He does

I smile

~

I ask God to do the same with a man

He does

I smile

~

I ask God to show me love

Walking hand in hand

Showing true love

The love of a man and woman

He does

I smile

~

I ask God for all these things in solitude

To express my feelings as I sit and watch my last sunset

The same sunset he use to open this heart of mine

Pulling me out of the deepest depths of my own dark soul

~

Weeping asking for his forgiveness

Bringing my life out of darkness and into his light

He does

I smile

~

These are my final words

Words of love

To say it’s a new beginning

Nothing to be afraid of

Be happy

Share love among each other

~

Life is short

We know not the day

That we will be in awe of his presence

 

Arthur Henn 2007

A Bleeding Heart

“A Bleeding Heart”

 

Thoughts of life and death

The beginning, the end

When does life really begin?

 

The air he breathes

The light he see

Enters his eyes

 

Ink flows through his veins

Never having to dip

The tip of his pen

Flowing off the quill

Feather turning

Scarlet red

 

Blood stained blots

Run down his cheeks

Cleansed by that of a tear

The tear of a true hearted soul

 

Looking up to his creator

Asking for forgiveness

Cleansing the words of sorrow

Which lived in his heart

A bleeding heart

Living through the movement

Of his hand

Poetry in motion

Bringing the death of ones soul

To life

Letting

God

Guide his hand

 

© Arthur Henn 2008

A Poets Last Breath

“A Poets Last Breath”

Simple and smooth
as the gift
of the poets pen.

Resting upon
the arch of his hand.

His eyes thrive,
not whats in front of him
but what his mind sees
inside the echoing halls
of whispering thoughts,
words resting peacefully
upon his last living breath.

The crossroads of life
lying in the shadows
of each word written.

The creation
of what the poets
mind feels
before death
we see it written.

The image of romance
embraced by love
captured by emotions
not forgotten.

A poem written
for the one he loves
Not spoken but whispered
in the mind of his lady
as she reads the words
written by the love
of her poets hand.

Copyright Arthur Henn 2008

Autumn Rain

“Autumn Rain”

 

Dancing upon your window pain

Stucco cold and wet

Memories of yesterday

Wash down, among

Autumn leaves

Shining under this late night

Street lamp

 

Seeing his reflection

Embrace

The warm breath

Of your

Soul

 

Thinking of the loneliness

Wanting him

In your heart

Longing for the one you love.

 

Hearing your whisper, in the dark

Echo off the inner walls

Of your mind

Remembering the way he held you.

 

Wanting to feel his touch

Embrace you’re inner soul

Pillows lying beside you

Cuddled up in a ball

you’re skin

Is soft as silk

you’re hair

Softer than

Lambs wool

 

You close your eyes.

Dreaming of

Weaved, triangles of love

Nurturing you’re secret garden

You hear a tap on the window,

Window of your beautiful soul

 

Rays of warmth shines through

You’re stained glass windows

Made by your own hands,

Hands that held the one you miss.

Open up the door,

He stands waiting.

For you

With one long red stem,

Rose

 

© Arthur Henn 2008

Cascading Darkness

“Cascading Darkness”

Falls seductively

Like a black silk nightgown creeping up from the horizon

Of silk lace, unfolding into

Sensual play

 

Silk stocking, high heels

No room for the comfort

Of my soul

 

My imagination runs wild

Like a underground current

Fingers of my mind run

Up and down the seams of her

Sheer fitted stockings

 

Chasing her into my midnight dream

Silhouetted and embraced by this night’s full moon.

Eyes of Safire

Glowing as if I ever cared.

That the sun would rise again.

 

My hands running up and down the curve of her spine

My eyes turn evil.

Looking into the darkness of her soul

A soul of beauty

Sitting on the edge of a blade

Waiting for her to bleed

Casting her evilness

Upon the goodness of my soul

 

God; I don’t want to wake up.

For I want to tame the evilness.

Out of her soul

Carrying her into

The softness of your loving soul

 

What once was evil.

Is now dressed in white cotton.

Softer than the evening gown she wears.

Lying here beside me

Smelling the goodness of her

Soul.

 

©Arthur Henn 2008

Boundaries of Your Morning Sunrise

 

“Boundaries of Your Morning Sunrise”

 

The way a beautiful woman comes out of nowhere

Not a word spoken

Showing her self upon a falling star.

 

She smiles Bringing out the serenity in me

An evenness of yearning

A longing,

For romanticism, the sensuality of her soul

Growth of her rose garden flourishes its gracefulness,

Beauty and aroma that surrounds me

For all to see

The beauty I see

Reflecting out of her eyes.

 

No longer captive of my thoughts

I speak

Layers Upon layers

Of your beauty one cannot match.

Rays of warmth that surrounds you

Your beauty shines through your stained glass window

That which was made by your own hands.

 

You smile, holding your self elegantly,

Embracing time,

Emotions fading away

Into the midnight hour

Chasing the early morning sunrise.

 

©Arthur Henn 2008

Autumn Ochards

“Autumn Orchards”

 

Autumn colors

Falling, lying on the abiding land

Fog blankets herself around me

Covering the soil I walk on.

 

Autumn leaves crackle.

Under each footprint of my soul

 

The sound of freeway traffic

Echoes

In the distance

Of my soul

 

What was once peaceful

Among orchards

Is no longer

 

Street lights flashing

On every corner

This early morning

 

Standing, waiting for her whistle to blow.

Railroad crossing arms

Flashing

Signaling, for one to stop

 

The power of vibration

Thunders under my feet

 

The smell of smoke

Fills the damp air

 

Ash of ones home

Lies on the ground

 

Smoke filtered sunrise

A new horizon

 

Mother Natures

Glimmer of hope

Will the

Santa Ana

Winds

Lie down

 

What will come of tomorrow?

This time next year.

©Arthur Henn 2007