For You

I would give you the warmth of my heart,

Let it out free

So we might sit

In the joy of togetherness,

Knowing that the warmth is neither you

Or me, being wholly unowned

And untouched by our mind’s dabbling.

I would give you the warmth of my heart,

To know the warmth of my heart

And because

This is how it was meant to be,

You and I friends,

Free in our being,

Happy because we are.

I would give you the warmth of my heart,

For the gift is ours

Only in its giving,

And I am tired of the old ways

Of a scant life attempted

In the absence of love.

Penfriend

Through the window of your pen
Come words flitting
On the breath of memory,
Their heart beat
Rich on wings of poetry
And love’s prospecting reach
In to the unknown.

I watch the corner of your world
From the corner of mine,
And find there, similarity
In the mind’s agile tool:
Your eye open
As mine too is seeing.

There remains now
Only the conveyance
Via electrons and emanating light,
As I touch individual finger prints
To the keypads of a screen
And hear your soft keying
Responding in kind tapping
From another far continent.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2016

 

For You Out There

The Likes
Stamped
On my offered work
Are certainly
Gratification,
But
When you,  genius friend –
Whose work
Is masterly
And touches
The substance
Of the wide eyed bridge
Between mind
And beautification,
– Like my words,
I am enthralled
With the closeness
Of creation
And I wish
Our touching
Was a friendship
In the real
Matter of the world.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015

And What Are Friends?

And what are friends,
But those
To share the journey.
Some,
Of place and time,
Of chance encounter
And camaraderie
Of fellow travellers.
But the best
Are those of mind
And the deeper touch
Of understanding shared,
When gut felt home
Is spied
In their excitement
At being alive,

At seeing you,

At seeing them.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.