STUFF OF DREAMS

 STUFF OF DREAMS

(FOR KYLE)

You and I are the stuff of dreams,

So take a look behind the scenes.

Our love shines bright as new spun gold,

A flash of color brash and bold.

You and I are the treasure found,

On every fearless stomping ground,

A diamond shining in the rough,

That gratifies and is enough.

 I feel your witness in the night,

Your kisses bathe and satisfy,

Healing in their own sweet time,

My life that once turned on a dime.

I feel your breath upon my neck,

Cologne so heady and so fine,

The pheromones explode in me,

Combustion working overtime.

And even through the days that maim,

The minutes lost to things mundane

Our love's the prize that others lack 

In life's big box of Cracker Jack.

You and I are the stuff of dreams,

So take a look at happy schemes,

A love that shines like new spun gold,

A flash of color brash and bold.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

PLEA TO A LOVER

PLEA TO  A LOVER

Please come,
Minister to me when the night is deep,
And my body sweats in a broken sleep.

Please come,
Read my last words like a ravished fan,
Who cannot see how banal I am.

Please come,
Reassure with a warm embrace,
Not some rare startled look on your face.

And when you go,
Please cover me in kisses
And a warm bedspread,
Pulled lovingly over my twitching head.

And do all this with the requisite feeling,
As my spirit takes leave to dance on the ceiling,
Out the window to mingle with the saints,
Leaving behind a rich palette,
Of vivid watercolor paints.

The painting of us in Italy,
The frieze of us in France,
The fun we had in Ireland,
The jig I tried to dance.

Please don't regret a moment,
A second of our bliss,
I know I ask a lot of you,
But please remember this.

I was and am your biggest fan,
You held me in the palm of your hand.
You had the power to make me swoon,
I always thought you hung the moon,
And always you did so with the requisite ease,
So come tiptoe softly to me
And tenderly comfort me please.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

HEADLONG INTO JOY

HEADLONG INTO JOY

Sun breaks through a cloudy morning,

Wild geese swoon at water's edge.

The happy brooks careen and sparkle,

Splashing headlong into joy.

Nature's awake and all a quiver

And barefoot lovers traipse the shore,

Whispering their solemn vows,

To have and hold on God's green earth.

It is a thing of sacred mystery,

How one's soul can feel unfettered,

How the heart can stay afloat,

Jamming to the day's mad chorus.

The golden tunes you've laid before me,

Challenge me to breathe anew,

The fumes of love's intoxication

And walk with you beneath the moon.

Moon breaks through a gloomy evening,

The bedclothes sweet with your cologne.

Your fingers come and overtake me,

You splash me headlong into joy.

-Bruce Potts

Revised Copyright 2015

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

SUNSHINE, MOONSHINE, LIFELINE

SUNSHINE, MOONSHINE, LIFELINE

My friends, they are my sunshine,
My lover, he's my moonshine,
My spirit it's my lifeline,
To sing myself to sleep.

How I love the sunbeams,
The quiet warmth of the old salty men and women
Who pass the day at the old swanky hotel.
I love them for their wisdom and the way that they raise hell,
And most of all I love them for taking me in,
When I hadn't a hope or a trace of a friend.
I think of hobnobbing  with all of the rascals I've known,
What a privilege it is to live to be old.
It's easy to say what's on your mind,
When people already think you're insane,
To no longer suffer fools gladly, to pounce on the inane.
My friends they comfort in the deep imposing winter snows,
And then something sweet and familiar inside just glows.

How I love the moonbeams,
The dark mysterious tapestry of my lover,
His powerful prowess beneath the covers.
My comrade-in-arms, the warmth of another's flesh,
He always keeps it interesting, always keeps it fresh.
And when all I really have the energy for,
Is to lay my head in surrender on his shoulder.
My love, he always understands,
Content to sit and hold my hand.
How I love the moonbeams.
That shine in the generous eyes of this man.

How I love the lifeline that ties me to this earth.
Grateful for my day of birth to parents who loved me
And an older brother who became a friend,
Who in childhood days would shove me.
How grateful to the doctors who tend to my disease,
Grateful to the God who made me, who hears my every plea.

How I love the lifeline that ties me to this world so fair,
That comforts my aloneness, answers all my prayers.
The spirit of the universe that every living being shares.
The lullaby of our existence, such a strange and soft subsistence.

A lifeline to real time and a lifeline to those in cyberspace,
A daily dose of mercy and a dollop of God's grace.
A firm reminder I am cared for, cherished over miles,
The cyber friends who pen me notes and send me private smiles.

It's nothing false or counterfeit, just a natural triumvirate,
The gifts that pour like fine vintage wine, of sunshine, moonshine, lifeline.
Thankful for them each and all, they always answer when I call,
And always in the nick of time, to dress the wound and brace the fall.
To lend their humor and their grace and put the joy back on my face.

My friends, they are my sunshine,
My lover, he's my moonshine,
My spirit it's my lifeline,
To sing myself to sleep.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2013
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED