Posts Tagged ‘Dreams’



In this meadow of cool, long wild grasses

With bright spring flowers bursting with color

The sweet smells of young nature

The soft breeze that ripples past the curled locks of my hair

Let’s pretend that you’re the god of love

While I am the common girl

 Who has captured your heart completely unaware.

Let us drink sweet wine during the dark night hours

 Before sharing that one, first kiss that will last a lifetime –

I promise you, I will reluctantly keep my eyes closed

As you promise to stay with me each night –

I will not peek,

Least the spell be broken and you flee from me

Taking all that is yours with you,

Leaving me alone and broken hearted.


(c) Susan Morgan Bosler

August 21, 2012, All rights reserved.  



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Well off in the distance
by the red and ocher mountains
near an icy blue stream
there’s a tired, leaning shack
with weather worn walls
that holds a secret that
no one living remembers.


Now and then a stray visitor may venture
through the winding passages
long abandoned
by way of a dusty hollow
where snakes find cold smooth rocks for resting
close to rodent holes and dried stick trees.


Strangers should be warned
not to venture to these mountains
there’s nothing right about the place.
What if the dirt could whisper
what if the desert blooms could scream
what if the trickling water
could wash away the blood stained stones?


With hope the people came here
eking out a tiny life
the sun drew years from them
the rain drowned their dreams
when the wind took their last breaths
they rested, finally
in clothes fit for Sunday
they were carried to their graves.


No one visits the tattered tenements
nor knows the secrets they retain
the markers have been erased by time
tormented by the elements and the years
but there they stand, near by a thin icy blue stream
by the red and ocher mountains
well off in the distance
kissed with the rays
of the setting sun.

©Susan Morgan Bosler
June 6, 2011  All Rights Reserved.  Please do not repost without prior written permission.

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Graphic Manipulation by SMB

Once I pulled you toward me
In a breathless moment
Enveloping the sounds of struggle and joy
Feeling the twisting and winding of flesh
Do you remember that starless, moonless night?
How afterwards we talked but said nothing of importance.
I could hardly see the outline of your face
But I could sense your continence in the dark
You were, we were, exhausted and content.
Do you still wonder if I think of you?
I hold this wish, deep inside
Where memories cluster around
Singular moments of the divine
Another love
Another time.

© Susan Morgan Bosler,  February 14, 2012

All rights reserved.  Please do not reprint any portion without the written approval of the author.

Graphic Manipulation by SMB

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When Autumn Calls

One must listen very closely

softly she arrives in a wisp of air

as she sweeps across sleepy gardens

entering through open doors and windows

on elderly, sultry summer days.

Never coming empty handed

she brings her distinct chill

with a subtle scent of drying vegetation.

Into your rooms she dances, stepping lightly

so very gentle and demure,

until she chooses a forceful prance

while painting fascinating colors or

swirling dreams at dizzy paces

crushing fallen leaves with her fury

she appears fully manifest at last.

© Susan Morgan Bosler, October 9, 2011  All Rights Reserved.

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