Wintersong is a very special friend of mine, and he is an excellent poet!  I am lucky enough that a talented man like him allowed me to post some of my favorite poems on this page!
LOVE IN TIME AND CIRCUMSTANCE 

Time and circumstance
rulers of love
opening the door
to who and when and where
flowing from thorn to rose to fragrance
blood from touch
folds of velvet ecstasy
aromatic dreams
castled against our proud will
or fondest fantasies
but when death closes the door
their rule shall be no more
and love’s eternity
will choose its pleasure
Congratulations
Wintersong 
May, 1999
Muse of the Month
Wentonto's Original Poetry Forum!
Self Image 

Creating images in the sky
each day passing by
in concert with the clouds.
Sometimes they form and hold,
eternities,
and some...
some days they wrestle with the will,
resisting form,
restless as wind;
evanescent substance,
chasing the moon’s silver splendor
and all its visions. 
When Madness Ruled

Remembering a time
when madness ruled our hearts,
and we searched sanctuaries for our souls.
To touch,
to feel,
to fill the void of unlived years
with promises not spoken,
we flashed like comets in the sky,
following paths of infinite domains.
We watched our trails burn bright,
and fade,
leaving dust for worlds to come...
Illusions of Tomorrows 

There was a time
when all my dreams were not my own
but visions of what others longed for me
and though my lips said yes
my heart said no
and slipped into its own reality.

I wandered worlds
  ruled by a silver moon
ringing ragged clouds with gold
in marriage of both fact and fantasy.

    Stars were wild thing
dizzily dancing  night to joy
in misty moon-soft meadows
shadowed with illusions of tomorrows
where I could see
just what I wanted to be. 
A Fond Release 

                    I stood among autumn leaves
                    Flecking green grass
                    Amber, brown, blood-red
                    Scattered by impertinent winds,
                    Too languished by time to cling,
                    And on that field
                    Red earth scabs surrounded a gapping wound
                    Opened to heal that process born
                    Three score and six ago.
                    And as the dust returned to dust
                    I watched a black hawk revering sky
                    With one lone cry.

                    I stayed long after tenders
                    Closed the wound
                    My sight transfixed on floral metaphors
                    Bandaging the scab,
                    Each petal symbolizing one chance flown
                    To share an intimate fragrance.

                    There is perhaps
                    A sad glory in death,
                    Like blazing leaves,
                    A fond release from bonds
                    Too tenuous to trust
                    By timorous souls.

                    I heaved a weary sigh.
                    A gentle breeze swirled about my body
                    Wafting its way to the prairie
                    Tinkling leaves, touching trees, fondling grasses,
                    Currenting birds in flight…
                    Perhaps a gift in death
                    He never had in life.
Misty

Walking through a misty day
I think of loves I’ve lost
and loves I never could have won
the sinful ecstasy of pain,
dark days when life
was just a monotone refrain
of songs that had no lyrics.

Remembering,
rhapsodies echo tales
of Mts. climbed to crystal lakes,
naked flesh fore played by sunbeam fingers,
green moss and eagle cries,
babbling like the brook we lay beside
until our rapture cries throbbed 
through valleys below.

Each love I’ve lost
or never could have won
are sonnets whispered 
on memory-winds.
Whispers 

The evening sky
wraps itself around my dreams
melancholy clouds hugging layered hills
purple and blue
magenta too.
Above
big birds spread their wings
to sail a steel gray sea
like ships of plunder 
homed to their safe harbor.
In time
an errant moon slips
from behind the last pink cloud
softly
silently
shimmering night.
What shines among the plunder most
are treasured eyes
whispering wordless wonders
Distant Seas

This evening
sunset molds the rugged heights to face and form
and spreads a golden sheet across the snow
while campfires curl their smoke to join the glow
like memories intangible
slipping soundless on the breeze
from distant seas.

Another world
another time
an ageless voice spoke promises of love
morning bird songs waking us from sleep
ice-diamonds glinting on brown skin
springtime rivers raging in the flow
of white-hot suns with sanguine settings
flesh
cocooned in cloud-webs fondling the forest
whispering the mysteries of moonlight glow
and shadows.

In the evening
sunset molds the rugged heights to face and form
and spreads a pale-gold robe across the snow
while autumn leaf-boats sail the languid stream
from distant seas
to distant seas.
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