All the madly beautiful glory
Of Creation Eternal
Scarcely contained
In the slender slip of light
That is her mortal form.
I crossed paths with a cowgirl angel with a harp of six-gun strings
A woman sitting in a violet window as I made my way inside
Stirring a cup of Destiny, "what's that?" I asked. " It's only cyanide."
"Only cyanide you say?" ( must be sighanide for me)
I mosied on over like a role made to rehearse
She said " have a seat cowboy" and read some cards
She was versed in all the arts of thought converse
she was to teach me many things
sit down to wonder what time brings,
weaving a basket light of time, (my regards)
But first I had to learn to face myself, (it was hard and strange)
To spend my time with such sublimely difficult discourse
often lost between East and West caught in the great divorce,
Was Pain in some unheard of impossible range
Where she rode off each sign into another play's sunset
The moment that I saw her was a moment never to forget;
Yes, it was years ago some ten or so we met.
(on a rainy night in a dark forest you
asked me for a 'light'
"Why whatever is a 'light' How enchanted you appeared.
Then smiling within a conjured lamp
As you touched a smirking lucifer to the flame
"What's your handle gypsy cowboy?" you laughed
A certain shiver in the wind sighed the fragrance of your hair,
You offered me a slender hand, more elegant than any verse
Poetry had ever dreamed.)
I never found out what she wanted
never realized all she saw,
In her eyes I saw the heavens rise
This cowgirl angel looked so madwise
Sometimes it seems there are no lessons
the more you learn the less you know
I guess the sunsets fall on everyone in every place
I guess I will never learn to forget her face,
Just drink your dreams to death old friend
She will sit by your bed and sing you hymns
When the evening wind comes to lower the blinds
She opens doors behind your mind, see what she finds,
She will sing you a silver saddle and a lariat of light
Smooth the covers of your bed just as tho' the sun were shining bright,
She will ride with you forever out into the longing endless night....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JskztPPSJwY
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 1005 times
Written on 2014-07-02 at 18:34
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Of Creation Eternal
Scarcely contained
In the slender slip of light
That is her mortal form.
SA Woman
It was in a dusty tavern town ten years ago or soI crossed paths with a cowgirl angel with a harp of six-gun strings
A woman sitting in a violet window as I made my way inside
Stirring a cup of Destiny, "what's that?" I asked. " It's only cyanide."
"Only cyanide you say?" ( must be sighanide for me)
I mosied on over like a role made to rehearse
She said " have a seat cowboy" and read some cards
She was versed in all the arts of thought converse
she was to teach me many things
sit down to wonder what time brings,
weaving a basket light of time, (my regards)
But first I had to learn to face myself, (it was hard and strange)
To spend my time with such sublimely difficult discourse
often lost between East and West caught in the great divorce,
Was Pain in some unheard of impossible range
Where she rode off each sign into another play's sunset
The moment that I saw her was a moment never to forget;
Yes, it was years ago some ten or so we met.
(on a rainy night in a dark forest you
asked me for a 'light'
"Why whatever is a 'light' How enchanted you appeared.
Then smiling within a conjured lamp
As you touched a smirking lucifer to the flame
"What's your handle gypsy cowboy?" you laughed
A certain shiver in the wind sighed the fragrance of your hair,
You offered me a slender hand, more elegant than any verse
Poetry had ever dreamed.)
I never found out what she wanted
never realized all she saw,
In her eyes I saw the heavens rise
This cowgirl angel looked so madwise
Sometimes it seems there are no lessons
the more you learn the less you know
I guess the sunsets fall on everyone in every place
I guess I will never learn to forget her face,
Just drink your dreams to death old friend
She will sit by your bed and sing you hymns
When the evening wind comes to lower the blinds
She opens doors behind your mind, see what she finds,
She will sing you a silver saddle and a lariat of light
Smooth the covers of your bed just as tho' the sun were shining bright,
She will ride with you forever out into the longing endless night....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JskztPPSJwY
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 1005 times
Written on 2014-07-02 at 18:34
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text