SOUTHEAST MORNING

By TONY BENNETT

All Rights Reserved by Author 


"Beginning of Work"

"Poem"

 

 

It’s morning,

And a heavy veil of darkness whips through SouthEast

Lies tattered at my feet

Ghosts of unspoken emotions, and unsung songs

Hobble Emaciated through the passage of my soul,

Crying to be touched, to be renewed with the fervor of new life

 

I would have sung you a love song,

But for fear you were hardened by your understanding of my love

And in my weakness and in my grief I remained silent,

As you receded into the velvet night

God, how I rummaged the stars in search of your eyes,

Praying for, yet dreading the morning light

Ah, but morning has come and cinders of unrequited passion

Lie at the hearth of expediency, the wounds of empty dreams

Are salted by tears of longing and need

When will love come again to rebuke these uncaring, insensitive winds?

That mocks my vigil at the altar of your heart…

It’s another SouthEast Morning and I Miss YOU

"End of Work"

 

"Beginning Of Work"

"Poem"

 

Seasonal Love

 

 

Upon that day in spring, I stood among the roses of her garden

And at winters end my love was lost in the snows of her majesty

I speak to you of joyous times now lost by the weaknesses of men and flesh

Of love that once glowed as bright as a summers day, but died in the fall

Like leaves rushing to earth at twilight.

 

This love, single and alone, it was the awakening of my seasons

It makes me weep my unshed tears and smile at my revolts

It cast the heat ‘Twas in my heart and gives me calm cool waters

Behold my passion, strong of body, bold of spirit, soft in its beginnings

Blessed and serene, relentless in its hunger, longing for her taste

My love was quickened to spirited heights beyond my stature, to the depths

Beyond my sounding, Her fragrance calls me and commands me, nay only to Release me, To those who love, it remains forever wordless; but to those

Who do not love, it’s a heartless jest.

"But her voice, the new sound in her voice was the end of my seasons labor and the beginning of my passion. Love is scared mystery of seasonal change…

 

"End Of Work"

 

Beginning Of Work"

"Poem"

 

Longing/Past

 

 

 

The earth was fragrant and like a daughter of a king at her wedding-feast,

Wearing all her jewels; the sky her bridegroom, she past her love on to me

Her love rested me quiet in my mind, my heart a tuned. Reclining in her Grasses, her flowers a bloom and all about me, I listened, for she had much to say:

 

Blessed are you to remember you pain and in it await the joy

Blessed are you who hunger after truth and beauty

For your hunger shall bring you bread and water to quench your thrust

 

She found me in her symmetry, to mother and comfort me. Master of silent

Desires the heart of the world quivers with the throbbing of her heart

But it burns not with my song

 

The man who loves her with his heart yet holds doubt in his mind, is but

A slave in her gallery who sleeps in her bed and dreams of freedom, till

The lash of her wakes him. My flesh needs the whip on my own day.

"End Of Work"

 

 

 

"Beginning Of Work"

"Poem"

 

A View From Above

(Inspired by the dreams of Sonia)

 

 

It was the month of June when mine eyes saw her for the first time

She floated above me as a humming bird to a juiced filled flower

The rhythm of her wings were different than any before her, her

Body was like naught I’d seen before. She moves with grace and song

Which did lift my soul; but as quickly as she flew into my view she was gone

And there seemed to be a valley between her heart and mine

But time would one day bring her back

It was in the month of August that I saw her again, she would hover above

The trees of my orchard to collect my fruit but never to eat herself. Upon

Seeing her again, her fragrance returned to my heart and her body seemed To fill my arms, she floats so high above me that I may not see her fully Or was it my aloneness, was it her fragrance that drew mine eyes upon her

Sky, was it the hunger in my heart that desired comeliness, or was it her

Beauty that floats above me that sought the light of mine eyes

Above me always above me, that of time and test, My longing for her grows

Greater each day at evetide, but when her dawn eyes looked into mine, all the stars of my night faded away, ‘Twas then she became my Sonia, then I

Knew she saw life with eyes only clearer than mine

"End OF Work"

 

 

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