#420
Will you teach me to write?
Not spelling the words,
but showing me ways
to make you swoon,
to fawn, for you’re
so dear, so precious,
oh to move you, to
bring you ever closer
i could never want for more
#421
Almost six months to the day,
i’m placed again in Portugal,
looking for sailboats
to taking me to the desert plains
of wind and water,
i left two years ago,
set my sails,
cast me off,
crown the Sun
on my little anniversary.
#422
And he died.
The travelling nomad.
My South American
hitchhiking contemporary,
dead at twenty six.
For how long?
i cannot say,
discovering his footnotes
on the road only just in Argentina,
a none existent race,
at times i’d seek him
for advice, inspiration,
reassurance there was another
unmet brother, one to relate,
what tales we could share,
what comforts, what knowing,
stories of triumph, terror, and pride
unburdened by ego in front of the uninitiated,
to the nights we never had,
and our days never lost.
#423
In the shade cast by
the Tower of Belem
the Atlantic air is perfect.
Cooling and clean.
The ancient building
marks that brief rewind in time,
from the first cries of Winter,
to the last sips of Summer.
#424
She sat at my table again,
borrowing my pen
and scribbling the thoughts
from head.
A clock without an hour hand,
what a positive delight!
Oh how that spriteful muse danced
arm in arm, as i watched from Sandra’s couch.
And now again, these thoughts
are written in dear Patti’s penmanship,
underlined with a smile to share.
Thanks for joining! Find poems through out the week on my instagram @monsieurwrite
Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write