Dead Of The Night

Hey, Miss Muse. Ever notice how many internet chatters these days mess it up? Here's a quicky poem for review about an imaginary couple who tried to get it right. Do you think they will be left standing strong at the end.?


they occupy homes in idential time zones
same sunlight they share at the start
but the greenwich meridium has a vertical insidium
where they live many latitudes apart

they live separate ways in the very same days
but when they sign on it gets better
sixteen hundred miles are melted by smiles
an internet chatty e-letter

she has no agendum than just to befriend him
his intentions as pure as the snow
they share only truths and nothing uncouth
a respect and a love starts to grow

it's a love for the person, not lust that might worsen
these two are really alright
no topic inhibitions first always permissions
when they chat up the dead of the night

a curfew is set so you really can bet
they'll click off when the time is just right
and count on tomorrow a few moments they'll borrow
when they chat up the dead of the night


johann

Modesty

If I could paint I'd paint one thing
and it would be in early spring
and you could offer subject thee
because it's only you and me

in fields of clover white and green
long abandoned no longer seen
and we could find a secret place
to paint just more than your sweet face

a linen robe all white and flowing
so we could wrap your body knowing

your daily garb no longer needed
for what's about to be conceded

and kneeling in that sweet new clover
your linen robe carefully turned over
you glanced away as it fell free
and shared your blushing modesy

my brush was swift and true and flowing
firm white curves tan lines all showing
blonde hair blowing in the wind
my brush is taking it all in

If I remember just one thing
and it would be in early spring
the day you kneeled and trusted me
to paint your blushing modesty


johann