Pink Roses upon a Midnight Beach

I will saunter my way
Into the daylight of a new dream
Escaping every clinging sadness of the past,
Cherishing the wine of excitement and happiness
Along my paths of desire;
I will sing songs to the sunset
And be enraptured by the moon.

Sweet angel that I’ve known
Since I was only a child,
I’ll pick you up at Friday dusk
And we’ll drive laughing into the city,
The rock and roll and heartbeat drums
Of our mutual rhythm playing so loudly
To the car stereo speakers rocking my soul with yours.

Ah, we’re going to dance into the starlight,
I’ll kiss both of your eyes beneath streetlights,
I’m going to tattoo your name upon my chest
And give you pink roses upon a midnight beach

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Hypnotic Trance Inescapable

When I told myself
That your mouth was cruel
And could only utter
Insults and lies,
I was determined to hate you
And be through with you
In my tattered life;
But when I saw you smile,
I could only cry
To be in the same room with you
And your perfume of delicate charms.

When I knew your eyes
Gazed in every direction but mine
And could only see me
In relation to miniscule things,
I told myself neither would I notice you
As I walked the same streets
Of our mutual city,
But I found your dark eyes everywhere

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Accumulating Days That Lead To The Grave

In my mind,
I value the Easter Sunday life:
The resurrection
Of the spring sunrise,
The flowery parks and paths,
The children dressed
In their church school best.

But none of that life is me,
I’m the solitary soldier
Of the decaying urban streets
Breathing in the car exhaust
Of the common defeat;
I’m the midnight observer
Of dark poetic scenes:

I’ve seen violent dykes
Take off theirs tops
And threaten to fight
Until they kissed and made up;

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Essence Of A Memory

Music and laughter drifted from a gazebo on the green lawn
As the spring breeze blew fresh flowery scents into the air;
We were at the park and all I could think about was your hair
Caressing your shoulders in the sunlight.

We were young and we believed that none of our actions
Though amorously brimming over with unconquerable desire
Could be anything but child-like angelic innocence
More heroic than the Garden of Eden.

You held my hand and my pulse rate rose
And my mind was ecstatic with wondrous excitement;
I touched your face with my fingers,
I thought maybe that very moment I would expire.

I don’t remember anything you said
But your voice was like nightingales by an evening stream
Where sages and poets sit to find their dreams,
Your every breath was miraculous and enticing to me.

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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An Intoxicating Woman

The rapture imparted
By your tender smile
And blue inviting eyes
Is astonishing and consuming!
What man could kiss your mouth
And not be lost for eternity
With love for you?
What man who ever felt
Your warm breath upon his chest
Could do anything less
Than breathe heavy sighs thereafter
Whenever you escaped his sight?

I haven’t desired you for an afternoon,
I want more than a rendezvous
In an hotel room,
More than slowly removing your skirt
One time as excitedly and nervously
As a child on his first day at school:
I want to kiss the nape of your neck

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Engage

It is hard to imagine
Starlight that fails
To fall into your eyes
Or moonlight that would hesitate
To caress your hair.

When I remember
Any afternoon we’ve spent
Walking through a garden of flowers,
I give thanks for those moments
So sacrosanct to my soul.

I cherish the Saturday evenings
Walking college streets
Looking for a sacred bar
Where we could drink
And slowly eat something simple
But with reverent hearts
For the palpable joy of existence.

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Lucky Star

An elegant woman in a long brown tube dress
Accenting bare milky shoulders
Gently clad by a silk cape
Exhaling skyscraper-like confidence
Leaned upon the afternoon bar
Requesting Tanqueray and tonic
And placing her dark sunglasses
Into her expensive leather purse.

I was a young man a day
Past twenty-one
And nearly as inexperienced
And naïve as I am today
Decades later;
I entered the bar for no purpose
Dreaming of Ernest Hemingway.

She sat alone at the bar
Not in need of any man
Or anything much in particular;

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Soft and Sensual Mouth

Angelina’s father
Courteously approached me
At the summer house
And asked me to cease
In my spirited efforts
To pursue his daughter,
The pride of his existence.

“As a friend of your late father, ”
He spoke to me,
“And as a man who was kind to your mother
When the distress of his death
So devastated her,
I ask you to choose any girl
Scattered beneath the stars
Than the one I carried
Upon my shoulders
At carnivals and fairs.”

And it was understood,

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Judgment Is the Enemy

Judgment is the enemy
Of love and friendship:
Will you judge someone you love?
Can you maintain a friendship after condemnation?

Believing one has the right
To criticize or condemn another
Is unfairness and unkindness to both the criticized
And the criticizer:

It is showing harshness to the criticized
And missing the opportunity to see oneself
In a constructive mirror for the criticizer.

When you judge another,
You lay the snare of hypocrisy for yourself:
Will you never fall into the same mistakes?
Will you never enter the same loneliness
Or place of loss confusion as the person you judge?
Will your life situations protect you forever from never stealing

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Magical Perfect Way

I went outside in the cool air
Grateful for the breeze that said I was alive
And able to praise everything and rejoice in everything,
Happy as a lark to join every creature laughing at dawn
Digging the eternal creator that made all beauty possible,
Simply walking golden pavements of a sunlit city
Trying to add my poetry to every gorgeous soul I saw.

Stray hungry dogs wagged by me
And I gave them some plain bread for lack of anything better
But they seemed all thankful and content and smiling,
If I had the means I would have made them pancakes or something
And we would have barked about reincarnation or some other joy,
A chorus of delightful yelps that would have got an old lady’s attention
Who would have said grace for us.

And sometimes there are no conversations just people moving to work
Or silently following some studious meditation about their life and philosophy,
And sometimes there is quiet sadness that makes you want to hug someone,
And anyone, really, just cry the communion of souls trying to make everything work,

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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