Poems By Ryan Gibson in April 2010
Posted on | April 16, 2010 | No Comments
Poem 1
Your aura was the first I saw
Full of flowers, especially the rose
Even in the night pedals bloom in awe
To move my hand in the air, open and close
As to attempt to feel the presence
The majestic and unordinary essence
Of pure unhindered sunshine
A star in the eye of mine
Which always remains
In sight but out of touch
Poem 2
I proposed marriage to the air last night
For your essence lingered afloat in passing
As for a moment I could grasp a bushel
Of pure essence of love in your fragrance
Where the ethereal takes some physical form
Materialized by genius of being
A mist of casual release
That in a failed attempt to bind I asked
Would you stay with me forever
Which only left me a faint trail to follow
Poem 3
What lines of love I carry across the earth
And songs I sing and praise of love in Johannesburg
The places I have seen far less entice
Then her curves, her mountains, valleys, and springs,
Dark natural beauty, the source of beginnings,
I place my heart and faith in your city
Which so designed has taken all I have to spend
And all I have to give
In return, I can hold onto its jewel
Far more precious than rare metals of a star
Shining with greatness so as one can see from afar
Makes the burden of feelings carried a weight of worth
The songs I sing and praise of love in Johannesburg
Poem 4
I wish to tremble with your touch
To desire, to fly in emotion in flames
Feeling the burning and seeing the bright
So as when I finish I return from wood to ash
Completely run through with embers so as
Remains of which no life could be
Distinguished by the black resin of
Passion extinguished for the excess of
Air that fed the last morsel of life inhaled
The Tree No More
I decided to move out of the trees
Pinocchio nor raw wood no more
For I was tired of being written on
Of truths amongst trees of things that fall
Of which the world has no care for at all
Among them I had more than seen enough
Many of the same thing discussed anew
Of which I choose the rank and folly,
For a better view of humanity
Of which chaos is a great refuge for sanity
Fallen In Love By Ryan Anthony Gibson
Posted on | December 8, 2009 | No Comments
Fallen In Love By Ryan Anthony Gibson
Why do we say to “fall in love”
It sounds as if I have landed on my head
Trailing headlong off a cliff
Not raising love or flying high above,
But a treble of words that imply
Like a dream or nightmare
You are hurling towards the matter
Of which there may be a chance you
Hit it and wake up… to reality.
But what if I am not fallen
As without love there is no lower place
It has raised me up rather,
I wonder if you are falling towards
Whether it scares you?
As I fly up from my mortal being,
I shall catch you as your attracting force
Propels me closer,
As if to have given me wings,
Of which your body finds me in a free fall,
To catch from a divine place, and
We shall suspended in equilibrium of forces
Caused by similar means
Float in and around the impact
Of it all, still in the air like art,
In one thought and interpretation,
Like a painting by Bougureau,
For us to be in and those to appreciate,
Who see what love is.
By Ryan Anthony Gibson
Heart Broken By Ryan Anthony Gibson
Posted on | December 3, 2009 | No Comments
heart broken,
passed a word as no words passing
but endless one way thoughts.
No matter my hardships,
no more as difficult as the emptiness
left by the void of love
when one could focus on a greater love.
A pilgram who did not interpret the dream correctly,
so I walk with the desire to try to interpret it again…
the dream.
The greater love is from there,
the direction clear,
the little sheppards gate
I must open.
Blowing Kisses By Ryan Anthony Gibson
Posted on | November 28, 2009 | No Comments
Blowing Kisses
Passion of your lips on mine parched,
Opening an old wound and healing
All at the same time.
Memories of errors, nights, rough,
Dry lips, fists, elbows and feet,
Or the feeling there of when the past
Whips by my cerebral cortex,
Connected to the sensation,
But now all I can think of
Is your lips on mine and racing
Beautiful moonlit eyes,
The air that once dried now
Blows kisses in my direction,
Winds of time and destiny.
By Ryan Anthony Gibson
And all is a metaphor By Ryan Anthony Gibson
Posted on | November 28, 2009 | No Comments
And all is a metaphor
And all is a metaphor
For loneliness and the longing of being touched
Or to touch, a bit or a lot,
Back and forth, rubbing against,
Brushed or patted, scratched, bitten,
Licked even, to quench a hunger,
Salt of the earth, loves worth and weight,
Pressure and release,
Embrace, softly or mighty,
Trace contours and lines,
Crossing over to passion,
Feeling color, scent, and sound,
Breasts, liquid, luscious, slippery,
Think of the metaphors found,
In a hand, to give a hand,
To wondering states of mind,
A wondering hand you find.
By Ryan Anthony Gibson, November 28th 2009
As Powerful As Her Touch By Ryan Anthony Gibson
Posted on | November 28, 2009 | No Comments
As Powerful As Her Touch
The agent was sprayed on the torso, on my chest,
A palm and hand print was clearly lifted,
The invisible presence of what was once recovered,
The hand was evident by the very lines finely etched,
Preserved the imprint of life that was in places
Some missing and blind where empty,
Unable to match the hand to the database of loves,
To the soft fleshy mass of sensation that outlined,
Over my heart the impression that I fell victim,
To die of love, for longing of sensation
As powerful as her touch.
By Ryan Anthony Gibson, November 28th 2009
In Touch We Trust By Ryan Anthony Gibson
Posted on | November 28, 2009 | No Comments
In Touch We Trust
My hand was not permitted entry for months
In the milky presence of her skin, no life or anything,
Not a single graze of the flesh to salvage in thought.
Station without a train or rail, no chance of going,
Isolated by the very arm it is attached to, chain
Voluntarily has no choice to move instructed by the brain,
Nervous system, tubes of blood, tendons, unjust,
Longing for the sensation, to touch it must,
In touch we trust.
By Ryan Anthony Gibson, November 28th 2009
My Childhood Love By Ryan Anthony Gibson
Posted on | November 28, 2009 | No Comments
My Childhood Love
My childhood was often sitting on the corner,
Watching life go by on occasion sopping up,
A cup of cool-aid and or flat soda water,
That drains from my teary eyes,
Because I thought she liked me,
But she will not do it, she will not love me,
We both got in the bathtub and giggled once,
We thought this must be making love,
Then sitting on the porch we kissed,
I shared with her my fries and Big Mac,
And a little bit with a wild cat,
But now I sit on the corner, slinging for a buck
So I can buy her candy from the corner store,
The more I give her she loves me more,
But for now I am sad and poor,
For yesterdays chocolates I am broke,
Where now I need the time to restore.
By Ryan Anthony Gibson
Whiskey Islay Mist 12 yr old, I enjoyed enough to write a Haiku
Posted on | November 18, 2009 | No Comments
I quite enjoyed the Islay Mist 12 yr old Whiskey, so much that I decided to write a Haiku:
Peaty Islay Malt
Finishing sea return
Clinging to my mouth
By Ryan Anthony Gibson
Our first kisses impression by Ryan Anthony Gibson
Posted on | November 17, 2009 | No Comments
By Ryan Anthony Gibson
I think I can’t think about it,
I just need to close my eyes and feel it,
I will be rolling around all night
holding my sheets tight
twisting and hugging my pillow with all my might,
to close my eyes and think of the sight
of your lips on mine
riveting undulating motions of two lovers in time.
By Ryan Gibson to Evashni
