

King's Square CafeAlmond kisses my tongue underneath the heady bitter taste of warm coffee rushing down my throat, I'm hidden and exposedKing's Square Cafe
sitting alone in the window of a street corner cafe-- Vanishing in the open, becoming nothing but
a silent pair of green eyes, looking out from behind a coffee cup-- a faint smile on my lips.


Writers BlockPoundingWriters Block
Obstinate Emotional Mob... of words
screaming to escape from the confines
of my pen, to find the perfect melody in order on my page.
Poem.


Golden EmeraldsFrom Tennon to Willow —Golden EmeraldsGolden Emeralds
Golden hair and emerald eyes, Cold metals are your metaphors, But further from the truth they could not be.
True your hair is yellow bright, And your eyes, the deepest green, But they are merely settings
For the blazing heart that beats within.
My heart aches not for the ice of gems Or the cold of precious metal, There is no comfort in those things.
Rather, my heart aches for The heat of your addictive soul- Enveloping mine and never letting go
Heal my shattered core,
Keep


The Danger of Monotony---In your shadows I am swimmingThe Danger of Monotony
Trailing my fingers lightly through the wind, I am missing the comfort of soft hair under my chin.
Today I am an excavator. Tomorrow, a spelunker.
There is always something to learn.
I want to slip inside murky irises and see new things.
Colors not yet named.
Eyelids separate two whizzing microcosms.
“Everything looks sharper when you open them.”
Masquerading as a concrete and steel druid,
I etch my name through the clouds and sky.
Today I am the window. Tomorrow, the asphalt.
We lay together as the wo
--
Either I mistake your shape and making quite
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
called Robin Goodfellow?
Thou speak'st aright;
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
--
Either I mistake your shape and making quite
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
called Robin Goodfellow?
Thou speak'st aright;
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
Keith
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