Michael Kevin Spencer > Writing | WritersCafe.org

I promise you these days an understanding Of life after tourists, of the peninsulas Held by an ancient people, makers of amulets The wisdom i..

I said I, but I was referring to the luminous dawn To the hearts of those who came afterwards And the children of hope, the light of language's ..

I bring you now these flowers Leftovers from our pain, petals of Jasmine The everlasting pity that once was Modest flowers from an October Su..

I don't know your salt-rose breath It breathes down my neck, until I touch your Topaz breasts You pant like spring and moan like the thirsting w..

The dead blue birds fell from the sky Like martyrs, like skylarks whose eyes were shut From so much night-collected migration But dark drops..

The soft underbelly of hope, lives on For the youth, who must survive this Earth Is their great kindness not reverence? Or simply the..

My little deeds so far from home do pry On my conscience of so little dear possessing That I have tried to gain, and failed somehow Alo..

If there be nothing new, let me at least Learn better how to love, in giving more! To give is life’s feeding measure, strong decree..

In all the tenants of my little heart So mortal, fragile, beyond true stability I am so tired to plead with crystal eyes With wh..

When these, my best years do pass in a wink I think of love and life’s solemn offerings My dreams from blessedness do rise! ..