Flames That Will Burn no More

I sit and wonder where the good love goes
once the flames diminish all is said passions
finished.Where does the spirit of past lovers
lay.Well-maybe brushing the floor in some quiet
sea.Well-maybe pounding tired earth where it
does not rain.Well-maybe wheeling behind bars
not seen by the unaided eye.Well-maybe unhappily
settled in their burial working to dig free.
Well-maybe only on breeze the summer heat and
wing.Well-maybe locked in a heart's chamber of
and blood and still water.Well-maybe bound to
transient state like in memories.The flames
that burned will burn no more.

poem by William Blackman
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Way of the Defender

Watching, roaming like a guard afoot.
Defend the red area and concede no points.
Be ready to wield a wing upon a shot.
Make offenders feel your toughness stress their joints.
'Stone Wall' mentality fit to all intruders.
Play the game with power, skill and pride.
Broken team play happens poised to shield and maneuver.
Step up turn back the wave a trangressor's tide.
A steadfast, consistent combatant no matter the stakes.
Willed to control the paint on a heightened plane.
It's the agony with the defeat, be certain an oppostion's fate.
Attitude and tenacity shapes a warrior's presence and reign.

poem by William Blackman
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Intimate Opportunity

She appears to me through a clouded transom.
Scarce on pleasures troubling over the past years.
She smiles in my direction which is encouraging.
Old-fashioned connecting as the eyes meet.
A moment of pause before any words are spoken.
Of course the body dispenses language all it's own.
The susceptible zone entered as we move closer.
Sensuous is the air hearing one another breathe.
Comfortably settled in our space we embrace.
Freezing time on it's hinges lies our anticipation.
Imagination turns to excitement once her lips glaze mine.
Broken barriers of fantasy linked bounds to what is reality.

poem by William Blackman
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Loved Ones Die

We don't like to speak of death and it's residual effects,
picking off lives as it wishes leaving other loved ones
behind.It is the silent saber poised for one singular act
only.It is important to know that one is not alone.
Although the dark current is strong with time passing
the pain weakens.Life recovers. Life resumes. Life rejuvenates.
Pack your memeories tight in that beautifully shaped box.
A presence still can fly in and around corners of the heart.
Love surrounding as a circle of support from those who have
been there before.Believe in yourself and persevere ever
when we lose our loved ones.

poem by William Blackman
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Body and Language

Speak the unspoken language as she speaks to me.
Through the concept of her motion must have meaning.
The alpha of her power awakes in the sensual eye.
Skinned canvas of limbs and muscles artful in presentation.
Music of her body with stealthy tones climbing the walls of air.
Lines and curves and grooves manifests sensations and reactions.
Forward heat within her beautifully expressed in outward forms.
She feeds the stomach of my desire portion to portion some so
generously.A primal beacon for all things live and captivating.
A communication method about her that heightens pleasure and
slows down time.

poem by William Blackman
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The Turning Year

One more year to celebrate in a higher state within
the winds of Fall.In a life there must come change and
on the spine of moments you will embrace.Beauty that
does not decline with age mind, body, spirit alert to
happiness.The telling of the time needle now less
foolish.Sacrifice not one pleasure.Careful not to
dwell on any loss.Like the seasons opportunity
rotates to you again-appreciate who you are in
some private darkness.Acknowledge the sunrise and
the sunset, let your heart be ready to snatch that
one true love.Keep thinking...keep dreaming...
continue to improve.Enjoy all the flavors in your
world so sweet.

poem by William Blackman
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Bridgework

Links the present with the past.
Joins two very different worlds.
Points the way into a future blast.
Adventure road for curious boys and girls.
It's strong and beautiful over waterways.
A time durable structure over rough terrain.
Able symbol of progressive nights and days.
The meeting place of those special ones.
Stands large and true wrapped in fog.
Travelers head for home when the tasks are done.
Supports the weight of freight moving rock and log.
The masterpiece of a innovative, creative mind.
In full light display has quite the presence.
With the mental bridge we seek and find.
Looked upon with great amazement and reverence.

poem by William Blackman
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Adriana

Divine is the name and you are to me a vison, moving through time and fire.The ritualistic mating of love birds my memeory casts has not
quenched my thirst or drenched my desire.Chance is prime and the choice is ripe to find that woman no treasure can measure.A weather
beaten road and I'm finally here beyond her face a gateway of all
my pleasure.No more pointless days no more tired search, a second life
of happiness looks in a proud stance.Thoughts of the future with
unreasonable excitement energy and possibilities strike in full-
tilted glance.Adriana, surpassing my dream my fantasy integrates
with my present creating an unrealized beauty.

poem by William Blackman
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Contemplation

I walk the railroad of days to come as
2011 chips away it's final days.

So compelled to wonder what might have
been and judge ony my pondering life.

Opportunity seized and released love's
alternating beats with shining then
dimming internal blaze.

Slick pace of the year, swinging pendulum
to endure or greeted by the grieving knife.

I scope ahead through the winter's dread,
rock the bells...continue the dream.

Fighting through sadness like never before
making right my heart and mental health.

I see a light in the silent black clawing

[...] Read more

poem by William Blackman
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Anticipation

Thoughts emerge from the awakened mind that merge with
sensations of the body our tracks and trains.The longer
the wait only stokes the waves of fire-bent and rippled
are our desires.Emotions sky, dip and turn in one gathered
motion an ocean of opportunity and as explorers dive.
Nicely framed pictures of how we view the outcome-fantasy
to reality, which will be outdone? The pressures of what
happens next invades our sleep.Make the rush of the day
blush with frosted daydreaming.Anxieties revealed as the
hours pass, seeing not just with our eyes-memories of loss
on the winds of the past.This is the present.What will be
the future? This is anticipation.

poem by William Blackman
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