One moment in time

Who knows if this one is dark or perhaps a little uplifting. I am keen to hear your thoughts on this one and how you interpret it. I wrote it today so it is hot off the keyboard and might undergo change over the next few weeks but first I would like you to decide what you think.

I remember that moment when I fell in love
I remember you standing there,
Your smile,
Your eyes dancing and full of fun.
I remember that moment in time

This memory, etched into my mind
No matter how far the distance between us,
Your companion,
Or what life has dealt you.
We had that moment in time

I remember that moment as if it were now
The touch of your tenderness
Your perfume
Your breath upon my ear
It was our moment in time

I long to touch this memory again
To experience this unique and wonderful feeling
Your memory
One moment in all of time.
It was just one moment in time

A moment that never leaves my head
Reviving recollections of you
Your beauty
Caressing me with every memory
Wanting one more moment in time

One moment when I look into your eyes,
And every wonderful moment we ever shared
Your life,
Comes flooding back to me.
Touched again by that moment in time

A moment I would die to relive
The moment before you left so suddenly
Your destiny
To leave our lives unfulfilled
Lost to one moment in time

I remember that moment when I fell in love
I remember you standing there,
Your smile,
Your eyes dancing and full of fun.
I still live in that moment in time


© Bernard J Rossi

No Fear of Death

Most of my poems that I have shared so far are positive and uplifting or talk of the beauty that life presents us with everyday. That is the world I like to live in but there is another reality that reaches out to touch us from time to time as well and I have written many darker poems in this hours when things were less than ideal. This one is very old and was written at a time of great difficulty for me. I am not sure if anyone will find it to their liking but for some reason I felt the need to share a few darker poems this. I promise to get back to my usual headspace next week!

He calls for me, the time is nigh
A strange thought this last breath
Will I float or will I fly
Afraid to pass from life to death
No need it would seem to I

Above my loin dropped four
Over all of them I’m freed
Enjoy life now I have gone before
New generations to seed
And I, a spectator forever more

Should it be my place to worry?
Capable? I am sure they are
He calls yet I am in no hurry
Eternal light through a door ajar
Into its healing power should I scurry?

Face my fate and accept the call
Leave behind this world, this Maya
My only fear that I might fall
A reflection warranted prior
Pray for a moment, one chance to stall

Only until I have time to explain
My past was not always dedication
To my caller, though not for my gain
For pleasure now not fear, just trepidation
That I may have earned his great disdain

Afraid of my fate? No I am not
Here in this world at least
Never wanting to experience hot
The uncaring world of the beast
But to live forever where pain cannot


© Bernard J Rossi

Magic

I have called this poem Magic, but it could just as easily be titled 'The Journey'.

In the coming weeks I am going to put up some photos or pictures/paintings and write small verses to them. This is an exercise I have done before and it is not only amazingly enjoyable but it also combines the visual beauty of the pictures with the magic of poetry. I would be happy for any of you poetry fans out there to send me a picture you would like to see put to poems and I'll interpret them as I see them.

In the interim take a short journey with me, it should prove to be magic.

Life used to be about the magic

Life was once about the wonder
We ruled the earth
Nothing could stop us
Our oyster awaited

Life then became about surviving

Life developed into making it
Work ruled our existence
Our freedom usurped
Old age awaited

Life used to be about surviving

Life is now about enjoyment
Magic rules our world
Life is full of wonder
Our dreams await

Life endures because of the magic


© Bernard J Rossi

Come Join Me

I was walking along a stretch of beach in Far North Queensland a few years ago when I saw an older man looking out across the water. He seemed to be looking for something and I immediately thought he looked like someone waiting for a long lost friend or lover. I went home and wrote this poem so I would never forget that look in the man's eyes.


Come join me
Walk in my circles
Be by my side

No pain
No fear
Nothing to hide

Come join me
Let your heart lead
Find happiness here

My friend
My lover
The time is near

Come join me
Together to flourish
With decisions made

Paths cross
Two connect
Never to fade

Come join me
Live life so fine
Set yourself free

Slow dancing
Eyes closed
Come join me

© Bernard J Rossi

Colour scheme

After feedback from visitors to this site I have changed the colour scheme, but as I am not strong in this area I would appreciate anybodies thoughts on the current scheme and other combinations I might try.

Thanks

BJR

A New World

A barren world, alone and dark
Suddenly comes to life
An unexpected contact injects a spark
And extremes discussed and planned
Lead to fun without the strife

An exciting world, the future bright
Slowly begins to unfold
Compatibility now seems so right
No adventure to be unexplored
No pleasures considered too bold

Luck or fate? Deserved and fair
For two the search may end
Each for the other so deeply care
And become the most important thing
Shoulder, ear, lover and friend.


© Bernard J Rossi

The Black Dress

Crumpled,
It lies on the floor.
Discarded.
Black and lifeless.
A reminder of passions lost

Empty,
Devoid of life.
Taunting,
Beckoning my gaze.
A shrine of sorts

Memories,
Rise from the pile
Fabric,
Soft and fragrant.
A memento to a perfect night

Experience,
The first kiss.
Games,
Nothing serious.
Unexpected, feelings and thoughts

Striking,
Out of the blue.
Unrequited.
One night, one love.
Sorrow donated to unwanted charities

Created,
As one night, one stand.
Dreams,
Extravagant and unseen.
Crumpled, they lay on the floor

Shattered,
I lie on the floor.
Acerbic
Dawn responses,
And a naked exodus.

Memoirs,
Carved into every stitch.
Wrinkled,
The unrelenting chronicler,
Left abandoned, its story repeating


Crumpled,
It lies on the floor.
Redundant,
This keepsake.
A reminder of passions lost


© Bernard J Rossi

The World Stopped

The world stopped

Before this day
We had met
But my eyes had not seen
And my heart had not felt

She had stood
In front of me
My ears had not listened
I had not been ready

The world stopped

On this day
Inside the Harp
My eyes saw her true beauty
My heart rose from my chest

She stood
In front of me
My ears heard angel’s music
I was ready

The world has begun
My world has begun

© Bernard J Rossi

Tales of a Camper

I met a man named Didge one afternoon in a National Park. He talked, he listened, he took an interest in my poetry and he inspired this little musing. Until we meet again mate, take care. Bernie and Joy

As worlds collide, and so they must
Amid a turmoil of earthly dust
Covered completely in camping dust
In the elements and God we trust

To meet like us, a weary soul
Striving for that same great goal
A rare plant on a scrubby knoll
A mighty fish patrolling a shoal

The traveller’s tales, wild and grand
From snowy peaks to ocean sand
From foreign shores to our home land
He sailed a yacht with a single hand

Adventures, he had seem them all
Never stepping backward lest he fall
With his campfire flames burning tall
As his adventurous tales enthrall

Food from the can was the bushman’s fare
Burnt in a fry pan in the cool night air
Never stopping once to catch our stare
But into the flames, he trained his glare

There was nowhere he had not been
Nothing in the world he had not seen
Everywhere he went he’d created a scene
I recall one time in front of the Queen

A nice bloke we were proud to meet
Clever in wit, and fast on his feet
Every tale regaled as a wonderful treat
Our mate Didge, one of the elite


© Bernard J Rossi

Just a thought

What causes a woman to ruminate
When by all accounts she is content?
Should he assume her mind is pure
And with all her wishes consent?

In all his writings should he rubricate
If that were the object of her pleasure?
How does he know of her happiness
And what would he use for a measure?

“I want to see you, but please be late”
She utters with enormous sincerity
“Or better still, don’t come at all”
She proffers with great celerity

Suddenly it is he who is left to cogitate
And think through a maze with no escape
Might the only solution to the quandary be
To create a visual image of her inscape

Or perhaps just a simple tête-à-tête
Would see the resolution of the dilemma
Neither confrontations nor battles of wills
Nothing to make his poor knees tremor

Perhaps now its time that she reiterate
Is a woman ruled by heart or mind?
‘Cos in my experience it is the former
As it is with men I think you’ll find


© Bernard J Rossi