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William Robbins
http://williamrobbins.purpledream.com |
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The Petals Of Desire
10/31/02 |
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You are the matchless rose
budding in the fragile vase of my heart.
The Juliet of my longing
who fuels passion's reckless and runaway cart.
A blossom with sensuality shining from your face.
expressed by your intoxicatingly supple and tantalizing lips
while they caress the scars from rejection's painful whips.
Once the fears and emptiness infect the shadows of the day
it is the touch of your alluring, vibrant hugs
that chases melancholy's vicious gnomes away.
And during night's most private secrets
when we share a vein-reaming,
entwined interlude of volcanic ecstasy,
your flower becomes the Venus of my fantasies
ferrying us in oneness upon a deep and endless amorous sea.
My confessor, my nurse, my Madonna and lover
forever possessing my life and soul
as the hand that matches mine like no other.
So beautiful of a precious petal that I will always worship and adore
feeling completely filled by your love to ever want for more. |
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How Sweet The Hour
12/09/02
How sweet the hour
of my affliction |
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that eventually dressed my tempest, tormented thoughts
with the perfect, unconditional love of God.
By banished and vanquished stumbling steps
I sunk into an abyss of doubt's
crippling depths
where no ray of hope
could ever touch
or offer the chance for some lustrous rope.
Then an omnipotent flame appeared,
eternally and totally embracing,
which shined into the obsidian despair
as a solitary and distant star
bringing a twinkle to the suffocating air.
Revealing a path
leading to a shimmering garden
where my stained and tattered essence
could at last breath
the precious aroma of complete acceptance. |
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December's Scarf
12/19/02
When the bells of time
Ring out their wintry call
It brings a slow, nostalgia sleep
To the spellbinding charms of fall.
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Soon we thrive in a sensuous relief
From the sights and smells
Of piney garland or a festive, colorful wreath.
Expectancy's enchanting scent
Seeps deep into our veins,
Stirring the pure love of giving
To come from the heart
Like a steady refreshing rain.
By the glamour of tinsel, hopeless allure of fudge,
Nectar of eggnog or some other tempting sugary nudge,
One utterly surrenders to the pure balm of the season
Having found a new breath of joy
Which soon possesses one's very sense of reason.
Peace swells in the glories of this holiday hearth
As we totally wrap ourselves
In the appealing warmth of December's scarf. |
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A Pen's Wages
01/08/03
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Give!
I scream inwardly
and in tortured aloneness,
begging for just one more verse,
one more muse fed line
that with a lusted for crystalline
precision
brings a pinprick
to the abiding
ebon
chamber of ignorance.
Then
in gasp and perspiration
my fingers at last scroll
some vainglorious
ink entree,
which later
I entombed
within my crypt
of martyred inspiration.
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Redemption
02/24/03 |
Redemption
Is A Lucid Pause
Of Sweet, Alluring Calm
Between The Ire
From Relentless
Circumstantial Storms.
It Is That Moment Of Pure Clarity
When Terror And Pain
Are Briefly Strangled
And One Can Gaze
Within The Reservoir
Where The Talons Of Character
Are Stored
To Find
A Path
Towards The Diamonds Of Promise
That Neither
Wound, Mar
Nor Can They Be
Stolen.
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The Firefighter's Last Call
04/02/05 |
Images of smoke and the haunting sound of siren screams
were the memory companions that filled all his nightly dreams
and they became his lifeblood as well as passion's fire
to faithfully yield to the duty they so overwhelmingly did inspire.
And even though the price of time and consequences of age
denied his body it's greatest love of life as wage
it never quenched his fire fighter's soul of its wondrous and noble rage
nor that intense need burning so deep in his heart
to save each life and shelter from being another victory for a fire's page.
Over and over again
just as he had done all his serving days
his lips would still defiantly and valiantly speak
of how he had fought so hard that enemy flame
with every ounce of strength his body could aim.
Now he lives on
having answered that resounding heavenly bell
appearing at last in the Lord's eternal firehouse where firemen dwell,
standing as he had done in this life so proud and tall
joyously and willingly responding when he finally heard
the fire fighter's last call.
A memorial tribute to my step dad,
Arnold Eppler, who passed away March 31, 2005.
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