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Posts Tagged ‘Texas’ Poet’


 

1959 Painting by John J. Rigo, titled, “Mother’s Sorrow.”

 
The gate stood high and firm before the light of paradise.
It had been this way for thousands of years.
The only light revealed was the light of God
through its bars.
 
A sound of longing was heard
from the millions of souls before its barrier.
There seemed to be no hope for reunion with God.
 
The day of days,
the hour of redemption
finally came to this place,
beginning with a cry of joy
from these souls.
 
Beyond the gates a cross appeared,
equal to the height and width of the gate.
The joy formed a song of everlasting love
on the lips of these souls.
 
It was a song unlike any sound ever heard before
or since this moment.
The words, “It is done,” were heard above the song.
The gate was no more.
The souls of God’s creation were returned home.  

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1959 Painting by John J. Rigo, titled, “Mother’s Sorrow.”

 
The gate stood high and firm before the light of paradise.
It had been this way for thousands of years.
The only light revealed was the light of God
through its bars.
 
A sound of longing was heard
from the millions of souls before its barrier.
There seemed to be no hope for reunion with God.
 
The day of days,
the hour of redemption
finally came to this place,
beginning with a cry of joy
from these souls.
 
Beyond the gates a cross appeared,
equal to the height and width of the gate.
The joy formed a song of everlasting love
on the lips of these souls.
 
It was a song unlike any sound ever heard before
or since this moment.
The words, “It is done,” were heard above the song.
The gate was no more.
The souls of God’s creation were returned home.  

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Romance, in its many forms, is truly a beautiful human thing. I always find myself going back to my old poetry postings on the subject and simply “Recalling” such times from my own life. Best to have Lived, then not Lived at All!

Texas Poetry

 
 
If you and I met at a different time in space and place
would we be more than people who passed formal greetings?
 
Would our eyes pierce the beauty of our souls
beyond the imperfections of flesh
to the heart of us?
 
In your eyes would I see more than me?
Would we know at that moment that something
wonderful was happening for you and me
at a time in starless memory?
 
Could we have been lovers
entwined in the depth of each other
warm and soft against the cold days of black nights
to rise together with joy and ecstasy?
 
Could we always have had a love
that had been one in unity for us?
 
The moment passes quickly.
My being reaches for that moment
it is already gone.

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Courtesy: Rodin Lovers statue in Paris

 
The gift of memory is the gift I treasure most.
In that memory is memories of the touches of Love in my life.
A kiss of deep felt emotion and love
when not expected.
 
The touch of your hand behind my neck
gently stroking my neck with your fingertips.
The way you reached for my hand
when we were walking together
a squeeze of hand that said, ” I am here, and I love you.” 
 
The full body hug of your endearing body formed to me
in a “Hello Greeting” when we had been apart for a while.
To touch, to feel, and know one Loves you within the Passion
that only being humans
brings to us.
 
“The Touches of Love” that makes all words
pale into memory.

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