Which aspects do you think makes a person unique?
There is something magical about a person who, despite all attempts to stop them, stays true to who they really are.
presence
of the body, in the soul
woman is made and known
beyond the sight
alone
a moment’s breath
life, liquid
welling deep into invisible bone
of the body, with the body
curving, slopes are borne
high and heavy, known
a moment’s step
smooth along the palm
holding, holding
of the body, with the soul
silk and velvet, living
a moment’s sight
open rays in stars, shining
knowing, knowing
known.
© 2015 threegoodwords
life and time
asleep in the rise
of a star
set against light
passing
in lifetimes, twinned
against systems
nebulous
as far as they are wide
daunting
we circumvent
a sun
one look
the night sky
and the past gazes
back, calmly
ancient is the dark
that holds our sun
light so holy
so necessary
to us all
as we go
gently, gently
into that good
night
so bright
stardust, twinkling
alive.
© 2015 threegoodwords
windfall light
thus, written:
Zeph, my friend
you would know
of the greatness in open spaces
green and bright
between the words
and whispers
that moment, after dark
the hesitation
the palpitations
rising with the hand to light
hoping for beauty
to come true in impending dreams
that vast tenderness
that antithesis of night
.
© 2015 threegoodwords
the letter
 
 
 
…yours ever, &c
an abrupt ending
opening words
pouring out in a sudden wave –
what madness is this?
to deny, to refuse
to insist on such needless things
as countenance, propriety
We must know our place…
but what is that
in the face of something so divine
as genuine, true, complete feeling?
they may be young, yes,
but not, to his mind, daft beyond decree
there was truth in this
and beauty beyond what any mortal could reach.
quick, quick
cut paper on surface
pen scratching ink
curves, loops, dashes
written in haste
soaked with feeling
demands, pleas
hoping, not jesting
trying to appease
papers waxed closed
an address written, posted
there, there
it is done
it is written
she must understand
the truth, the beauty
of such spontaneous overflow of feeling.
yet the torment begins
the second the envelope is sealed, posted
that torturous patience
of long hours waiting
for all to be read, understood
and hopefully, hopefully
answered, agreed
to continue the private, silent communication
where all the tools given are ink, paper
memory, imagination
and far too much feeling recollected in tranquility.
*
and thus it arrives
the letter
hastily opened, outside, far
hidden away from the curious
the nosy
young feet walking
young hands turning pages, paper
touched by others, close, known
young eyes reading, re-reading
reading once more
You must…Â You cannot…
half daze, half delirium, all delight
searching in every word
all the fields of meaning
until a call demands obedience
there are duties, all and one,
that must be followed.
and there it is, a clock chimes
it is time to visit
the one to whom communication
is deemed legitimate
not, in fact, the other
whose words lay pressed lightly
tightly against the young breast.
but no, alas
no one stands waiting
there is no need to play the proper lady
there is time yet to sit in plush seats, reading
what none must know
those felt words written
mapping what lies only
between a you, a me,
and countless yours ever, &c
that most intimate of privacy
daring thoughts, heartfelt feelings
quiet wishes, hidden dreams
I can… I will… I must…
hand-written
as if spoken from mouth to ear
now held and seen, repeated
in most natural light
falling through windows, glowing in trees
until the sun sets to darkness
brightened by the warmth of a flame
a night, a silence
filled with hope for the morrow
heartbeats young, doubting, certain
waiting with joy and fear
mixed to one sensation
true, beautiful, free.
© 2015 threegoodwords
three good words 
