Burgundy Dress and Glass of Wine
Have you ever driven
A woman to the airport
Searching all along the way
For the right words to express
The way you felt about her hair
And her eyes and her breath?
Life moves too fast
And opportunities escape,
Love finds a narrow way
Out of the city of your heart
And down a back road
Impossible to follow.
Too many seasons of rain
With no emotional comfort
Or the means to explain
Where your dreams disappeared
Into somebody else’s arms.
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Time Runs Out Escaping into Eternity
After walking through this world alone,
I’ll write my poems sitting at a piano
With votive candles lit, remembering everything,
The summer dresses on an avenue of trees,
The rhythmic sway of your feet through autumn leaves,
The sadness in your brown eyes that brought you to me.
Romantic melancholy is the only melody of my soul,
Longing unfulfilled the only chords I know by heart,
No dramatic crescendo just a silent fade, whisper-like,
Into the midnight air of a lonely night.
Impossible love has left me mesmerized,
The perfume on a sweater you wore
Lingers in a dream that never ceases,
I can’t let go of my images of you,
They will one day justify my existence
In words that make old men and lovers cry.
I hope you can perceive the enchanted poetry
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Visions of the Erotically Sublime
When the youthful heart dies,
Our dreams separate from our soul,
We accept drudgery and regrets,
We no longer believe in love,
We think it is impossible to escape
Into the world of an exhilarating kiss.
And I’ve become a lonely vagabond,
Tramping my way through memories of desire,
Praying to goddesses in the darkness of night
To rekindle the romantic fire
Hidden in the ancient psyche
Before humanity became tamed
By duties and responsibilities
Stifling sensual adventure.
I’ll no longer subscribe to any idea
Suppressing the hope of exaltation,
I’ll no longer walk any grey concrete path
Forever avoiding verdant fields
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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That Delicious Throat
Inescapable from the forceful arms of dreams,
I fall ecstatically on soft silk sheets,
My heart is pounding wildly
Thinking of her gorgeous body
Relenting to my pursuit,
Becoming one with my desire.
There is nothing light or shallow
In my fantasy to entwine my fingers in her hair,
To breathe her every feminine scent,
To possess her completely,
To kiss her lips and then dissolve
Into her soul.
I am captivated by her throat,
That delicious throat that I have seen
Wrapped in fashionable scarves
Or displaying the most hypnotic necklaces,
A throat designed for a master sculptor to sculpt
And then preserve majestically in the Louvre,
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Wedding Picture Face Down
A man follows an alluring woman
From a bookstore rendezvous
Through twisting streets
Of illicit passion;
He enters her house
To gently kiss her neck
In the plain white kitchen
Where she has prepared meals
For life-draining years
For the same unappreciative husband.
He removes her clothes
Slowly in the afternoon,
Dropping her panties in a hallway
Next to her husband’s study;
He tastes her body, the warm sweetness,
Until she achingly moans.
He gazes for a moment at a wedding picture
And then turns it face down;
He makes no promises
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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A Tender Reprieve
I am naïve about relationships and kisses,
About the dreams that weave themselves
Around a fragile heart,
And I do not know how to protect
Myself from love.
Emotional before photographs of you,
I break like pottery to see you smile,
I crumble like autumn leaves
In a child’s hand
To remember your shimmering brown hair
And the perfection of your neck
That someone else touches.
And I have also lingered lost in thought
About the lighter brown hair of another girl
Who captivated me for a moment, but less excruciatingly:
I nearly fell in love with your best friend
To merely hear her speak your name;
No one will ever understand how much
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Every Woman Who Dresses Like You
Like King David’s bed,
My bed is swimming with tears,
The not seeing you down these lonely years
Of heartbreak and multiplying fears;
I’m dreaming of you, simply dreaming of you,
But these dreams are merely
A disappointing substitute.
I breathe your perfume in fashionable boutiques,
I gaze at bouquets you would have adored at floral shops,
I notice every woman who dresses like you
Of a certain age and height,
I imagine they’re you, I pray they’re you,
But it is all a mind device to console me.
I’ve been fasting in this emotional desert,
I’m losing my strength and my real essence,
I’m wasting away with such a hunger
To see the world through your eyes,
To watch your hair flirt with the sunlight,
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Red Mustang on the Highway
Why did we
Ever drift apart?
I know, I’ll never see
A woman more astonishing
Than you in a summer dress
Standing elegantly on an apartment terrace
Sunlight in your hair.
Ah, love had me dreaming and believing!
So many lovers smile in the night
Swaying to music,
Once we were there
Locked arm in arm.
One day, I’ll write the poem
That paints perfectly your slender neck
And your gentle hands
Putting on earrings
And then I’ll feel this magic forever.
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Satanic Forces Wait With Glee
There is nothing but shadows
On this desolate afternoon;
The light of hope
And the flame of compassion
Are no longer seen,
Snuffed out like a candle’s wick
Or a child’s dream.
I don’t know
What anything means,
This groping along ledges
And fearing the ravine,
The knowledge
Of pain and pointlessness.
I’m not wrapped in love
I’m hidden in plain sight
Making my way
Along cruel, unforgiving streets
Where the girls all wear
Dark soul-concealing clothes
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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A Different Sky Is Waiting
We’ve been in the rain so long
That our eyes are sore and red;
When joy is missing,
We gaze down too long at our feet
As we slowly walk through the city,
But there must be a different sky waiting
Offering love and inspiration.
Beneath these yellow factory skies,
Even the street lights look sadly dim,
Like our spiritual light within
Blurred by an affectionless life.
Things began to change
When I met you in a small bar
Not far from the school where you teach;
I saw Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass
Easing out of your purse,
I knew we had to talk.
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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