Prolific

Prolific? Me? I hardly think
and yet I guess that’s true
as writing poems every day
is something that I do
A little snapshot of my life
Something every day
as there’s so much of it to see
and so much here to say
So I’ll just keep on writing
as I can’t stop you see
for it’s a special passion
and completely part of me

Passion, Courage, Choice

I have chosen to seek
each day the path of courage
and passion.
I fail, often.

I don’t
say this with bravado,
because I do not feel brave.
If I could choose something
easier, I would.
It never gets easier.

But to make the choice each day,
Each minute, to turn and
face the sadness and suffering,
of the world; the pain and joy,
each on it’s own terms
and not be defeated by it—
that is something that
must be chosen again,
and again, and again.
It is the job of poetry.
No compromises.

It is not a choice of pleasant fictions,
a diversion of entertaining nothingness;
nor like the fog of opium that
leaves us still breathing,
but dead.

Each night, darkness does not fall.
That is the wrong image.
Rather, when the earth spins away
from the sun, it rises up from the deep places
of the earth and the oceans, from
the caverns and the bottom of rivers and lakes and seas.
A deep exhalation.
A time for alternatives.

Searching for Muse lost

First published on my blog http://www.fleetingmuse.wordpress.com on Dec 10, 2018.

Was it that long ago, by

The south seas

Warm waves crashing,

Bursting bubbles caressing

A TENDER MOMENT PASSES

By Charles Robert Lindholm

A Tender Moment Passes
In The Wee Hours Of The Night
With A Glimmering Hope Of Passion
And A Spark That Might Ignite

Location

Between the thumb and the forefinger
where I’m counting and mapping your freckles
as my fingers slide
over your curves
and etches
a map of my universe
where
my soul
my love
my passion
finds solace,

History of love

Our love is an illusion

a mirage,

like the sun setting in the sea

the light has traveled

from the past

to reach you and me;

SCRIBBLING WORDS ON WHITE PAPER

By Charles Robert Lindholm

In The Backside Of The Night
I Sit In Silence
In Flickering Candlelight

Passion (Micro poetry)

I blog at Megha’s World

Fatal attraction

“Mysteries of attraction could not always be explained through logic. Sometimes the fractures in two separate souls became the very hinges that held them together.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

That insatiable thirst

which rises from the depth of my soul

and devours me like a wildfire

this incessant need

to be wrapped around your soul

like an unstoppable contagion

Incomplete

The sun comes everyday

To lighten the world

From the darkness of night

To bring new hopes and vibes

To melt in the love of shine.

The Soothing Sea

I have lost count the number
of poems I have written
about the sea in Sussex
as really, I am smitten
So, if I only wrote of water
would you think less of me?
for really, if the truth be told
it’s best beside the sea

I can sit here hour on hour
beside the soothing waves
and gaze out at its fathoms
on sultry summer days
For me it’s inspiration
of it I’ll never tire
It prompts my words and writing
and builds in me a fire

INJECT AND INFECT

Inject and infect

The love in my veins

To surrender the pain

To be lost in your aim.

 

The infection is not in the blood

It’s in the mainstream of the love

The soul wants the cure

In the form of art of love.

Perfect Storm

“With a tide rising in your heart
and a gale rushing in mine,
we brewed a 
perfect storm together”
–Megha Sood

Our wild emotions were brewing
slowly and surely
simmering and rising to the surface
ready to be spilled
poured out of our hearts
where it was becoming
a fruitless task
to keep us apart

Days of Youth

 

A mockingbird crooned his melody

as I sat under a blooming Lilac tree

I closed my eyes and soon drifted away

lulled by soft buzzing of the honeybees.

Proof

 

I have read the fairy tales and
stories of love
for time eternal
they are as true as they come
if I could only believe
the prince charming for real

Inflammable

 

Those fleeting glances

those eye contact

never bothered me

there were many

Fleeting romance

“The very essence of romance is uncertainty.”
― Oscar Wilde

Oh! how fleeting it was

how softly it made me blush

left my heart

feeling so sanguine

a feathered touch

My Salvation

 

As I dance till my feet bleed
the sweat pour out of my body
as tears of my soul
I dance till I drop dead

Sustenance(Micro poetry)

I blog at Megha’s World

Inefficient

I fail miserably to guard my self

my heart

my emotions

my eyes

which gives away

every single feeling

every moment

I spent;

I LOOKED DEEPLY INTO HER EYES

By Charles Robert Lindholm

I Looked Deeply
Into Her Eyes,
How Could I Not?

Galaxy (Micro poetry)

I blog at Megha’s World

The language of love

Speak with the language of love.
–Rumi

The language of love
needs no words, no script
it flows from my heart to yours 
with no gates or doors;
I can feel the vibe in the air
I can feel the love
in my veins
as it flows;

OUR CROSSROAD IN TIME

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Time Has Removed
Any Doubt,
About What It Was
We Shared Together

With A Soft Blur Of Years
And Faded Memories
Of The Ecstasy

#170 POETRY =

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Poetry =

MORE THAN JUST – I LOVE YOU

By Charles Robert Lindholm

I need more
than just words,
more than just
I Love You!

Presence

Dance of the emotions

Catching of the gaze

Passing glimpse of the face

Fleeting touch of your hands

My Old Book of Poetry & Prose.

Please, feel free to help an aspiring artist, writer, poet, and musician achieve his lifelong destiny for success. Thanks in advance. Kyle T. Dibert’s Book of Poetry