Fri, 19 Mar 2010 08:55:00 -0800WeeblyMon, 21 Dec 2009 09:37:44 -0800http://www.deborahsimpson.org/3/post/2009/12/stolen.htmlIf I stole the light from
The funnel of your eyes –
Would you therefore
Cease to see?

And if I snatched the voice
From the chambers of your speak –
Would you therefore
Cease to be heard?

What if I borrowed the taste
From your lips –
Would you so then dare
Not to whet?

If I stole the heat from
The love of your heart –
Would you therefore
Cease to yen?
]]>Mon, 01 Jun 2009 19:26:49 -0800http://www.deborahsimpson.org/3/post/2009/06/the-valley.htmlTake the hand of my blood, and delicately lead
Toward the valley of misdirection –
And with thy hand angelically free
The mounting rein of tarnished hearts –  

Carry the heart of my wisdom, unto the starving
And calmly nourish the turmoil –
And with thy heart, spill of it generously
Simply and clearly soothe the lament –  

Take the sight of my vision,
and open their eyes for all to see in unison –
And with thy sight, show the truth
To drown the falsity –  

Take the hand of my soul, and delicately traipse
Along the valley of misdirection –
And with thy hand, mystifyingly free
The mounting rein of ignorance –

]]>Tue, 12 May 2009 18:13:39 -0800http://www.deborahsimpson.org/3/post/2009/05/blankness.htmlI fared under the caricature
Of desolate bane this eve –
Walking with shiver in pocket
Toward the glassiness of now –

As I reached the tip of today
Drenched I was, in disgust –
Saturated with concocted sweat
I gripped tirelessly, the shiver –

Poured the shock of yesterday
Through forgotten cloud –
As I quivered under the dry
Of pouring dry rains –

My eyes swelled silently shut
From the lack of tears this eve –
My shiver, it completely melted
From the glassiness of now –

First Place Win - PoetrySoup International Contest - September, 2008

Link: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=102818

]]>Tue, 12 May 2009 06:34:12 -0800http://www.deborahsimpson.org/3/post/2009/05/candy-coated-wreck.htmlPaperless dolls and run-less runs –
Roller coaster rides and fun-less fun.
Hopscotch and blisters; banana-seat bikes –
Hand games and shout-backs too.

Quiet-less walks at 3:00 in the morn –
Virtual stranger rides with indecency.
Cracker-jacks and white wine spritzers –
Early morning-midnight bizarre.

Hellish targets for our holy aims –
Lipsticks red and perfumes sweet.
Mustard corndogs with licorice malt –
Chocolate mustache with milk beards.

Sunstroke and fallacy whipping tales –
Tongue-tied talk and all the such.
Hair-unwoven nightmares & bobby pins –
Lurid washed-out make-up; oh the horror.

Candy-less sugar pops dressed in green –
Wrappers prettied up in dazzling clash.
Malt whiskey and bourbon please –
Ante up for your hill-less ride.

]]>Sat, 09 May 2009 06:22:24 -0800http://www.deborahsimpson.org/3/post/2009/05/stones.htmlGraveside tumbleweed blew
In the stones –
Of a thousand years
Yet to come –
 
Primitive, their sculpture
Just as these –
Still a stymied mosaic
Just as we –

Hallowed stone stood
Well-weathered, calm –
Sphinx-like the mass
Here and now –

Graveside tumbleweed ceased
The stones stayed –
Of a thousand years
Yet to come –

]]>Sat, 09 May 2009 06:20:12 -0800http://www.deborahsimpson.org/3/post/2009/05/naked-in-the-sand.htmlWe walked along lakeside today
Hand in hand, barefoot in sand
Unfortunately, I had to unfold
My hands to pick up a shell
It was so beautiful, dear
I wish you were there

We played a game of catch today
Kicking up the sand all along
Loping, giggling, splashing
But I fell down on my rear
Too much laughing, dear
I wish you were near

And then in the cove, made love
Just you and I as one my lover
Nature engulfed our bodies
In pure heavenly delight
Perfect rapture, dear
Oh how I yearned

We made a small fire in the pit
Just as the sun began to sleep
We sat there all cuddled up
And reveled in the beauty
It was marvelous, dear
I missed you terribly

We fell asleep on bed of sand
Warmed with gentle breeze
Morning then softly arose
Caressing us with day
A superb morn, dear
Naked, in the sand

]]>Sat, 09 May 2009 06:17:10 -0800http://www.deborahsimpson.org/3/post/2009/05/the-empty-basket.htmlYears ago, I bought a basket,
Plain, unappealing –
Weave already unraveled,
I only paid one dollar –

I set the basket on the shelf,
Separated, secluded –
And there it stood,
Unbefitting the decor –

I filled that basket,
With defeated dreams –
My lonely heart,
My deserted thoughts –

I loaded that basket,
With yearning love –
My unspoken need,
My every want –

I found myself gazing,
Often, in fondness –
A beautiful reminder,
For somber times –

My hands may be empty,
My pockets uninhabited –
Aloneness taking its toll,
Privation draping its veil –

The basket stands proud,
Holding seeds of intangibility –
Unfaltering in its stance,
Draped with valor, still –

This Christmas I give you,
An empty basket –
Weave already unraveled,
All I could afford was a dollar –
____________________
The Empty Basket received 4th place win in the March, 2008 PoetrySoup International Poetry Contest.

(c) All Rights Reserved.  Permission is given for copying and pasting into your blog space with credit given to the author.

Poetry from From "Chronicles of a Sage: Simple Complexities" 

]]>Fri, 08 May 2009 18:01:58 -0800http://www.deborahsimpson.org/3/post/2009/05/companion.htmlI met happiness one day –
We greeted each other
And laughed a bit
And then departed –

I ran into bliss one day –
We talked of happiness
Floated around together
Then headed off –

I encountered ecstasy –
We shared an exquisite day
Talked of happiness and bliss
Then went our separate ways –

I bumped into aloneness –
We didn’t talk much
Did some reminiscing
And then consummated –

]]>Fri, 08 May 2009 17:50:04 -0800http://www.deborahsimpson.org/3/post/2009/05/fire-to-ice.html“I love you,” he said
As the bane of a desolate eve churned –
“I love you,” I spoke in return
His response ran blank –

Preparing.

“Today is today,” he offered
Cold fire brushed my inner skin –
“And tomorrow is nil,” I delivered
Through sullen speak –

Understanding.

“Moments are fleeting,” he whispered
Under the shrill reality of day –
“Supposedly,” I jested
With frozen tongue –

Knowing.

“I think of you,” he stabbed
With blades of ruthlessness –
“Lovely thoughts,” I choked
As I crawled inside of me –

Finality.

]]>Fri, 08 May 2009 17:41:44 -0800http://www.deborahsimpson.org/3/post/2009/05/falcon.htmlThe falcon swooped through
The blood stained air
Thickened only by the stare
Of teetering eyes –

His wings of authority
Sliced through the reproach
Like daggers of honor
Spitting fire –

Azure blue rods
Shooting out of his eyes
Into the desolate night
Amidst moon –

The falcon rested upon
The unstained branch
Made sturdy only by stare
Of admiring eyes –

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