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p o
e t r y - a f e w f
e a t u r e d p o e m s
Introduction
Volume
1
Volume
2
Volume 3
Volume 4
Amare[1]
Forlorn, with tears
And cries, am I.
To lose you to your death
Without but even gasp or sigh,
Save a wisp of Angels breath;
…the darkest sorrow
I have known. Yet,
Your image burnt in my
Soul is my gift, my grace,
And always will I see your face
Upon the simmer of
Placid ponds
And in the clouds where
Sunbeams hide
And raindrops form,
…And I will speak kind words
And write of you
And sing in sweet demure,
In early morning's dew
And in the crown of daffodils
Which bloom amidst the storms
Swept cross my brow,
In every dream
In which it seems
You come to me.
My love forever
Do I avow.
[1] From Sanscrit
meaning Immortal
Beatrice[2]
Gentle love from gentle eyes
- For you
this is what I long:
- to
breath the air, hear a song,
walk beneath some sappling
pines
search a dream, slow the
time,
see truths distant horizons
hide
float on waves at even-tide.
know a softly spoken poem,
call the earth beloved home.
But as I've longed, so
I've pained
your breath be labored, hearing waned,
legs too weak to walk the woods,
mind not dreaming as it should,
truths unroofed of life's fine deeds
as you drown in stormy seas,
unheard poems from whispered sounds,
heaven now to be thy bounds.
[2]Beatrice
was my oldest living patient in 1994.
When
she was hospitalized, I began this poem for
her but
she died at 97 years before I could finish
it.
Repose
In quiet repose
you are a sirened sentinel.
As black swords strike
gloat in ghostly vapors
and wallow in deeds of darkness
your lips taste the brine
of my dripping tears and unfold
to silence the knell of mourning
impotent like a river, dammed.
© Michael R. Berman, M.D.
2009 all rights reserved
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