MARK JOHN JUNOR : Writing

into the fabric of life

into the fabric of life

A Poem by MARK JOHN JUNOR


my heart is a child holding a beadweave that onto a necklace with your finest golden threadsweave my dreams into the fabric of your life can you do it..
the cards dealt

the cards dealt

A Poem by MARK JOHN JUNOR


back to all the yesterdaysback to the stack of love letters written in night's sorrowsto all thouse lovers left behindback to simple truth of itback t..
beautiful sadness

beautiful sadness

A Poem by MARK JOHN JUNOR


there in your midnight afterlightthere in the stillness of your nearnessyou softly took my hand and shook loose yesterdays dreamyou found me in every ..
sex's butter

sex's butter

A Poem by MARK JOHN JUNOR


awkward girls delivering their spoken thoughtslike hand written love notesperfumed hopes cherished brightlyone of a hundred that stand at the edge of ..
royal palace

royal palace

A Poem by MARK JOHN JUNOR


the royal palace in the mountain's shadowwith the vixen so subtle in the sweetness of knowing what it is to have her in the nightbeautifully wrought d..
the passionate knowin

the passionate knowin

A Poem by MARK JOHN JUNOR


a beautiful ballad playsone of memoriesone filled with loves tendernessif i could follow it on down its fabled roadif i could live the song and its be..
grease monkey supplicant

grease monkey supplicant

A Poem by MARK JOHN JUNOR


the lackluster heartis a careless companionhis tarnished love is a thin man with hungry eyesloved only by her mad mad mindwith a clean beauty to her t..
a woman reading

a woman reading

A Poem by MARK JOHN JUNOR


we sit in quiet reflectionshe reads her french romance noveli do the times crosswordi pause to sneak furtive longing filled staresmy heart nibbling at..
oceans of silence

oceans of silence

A Poem by MARK JOHN JUNOR


her eyes are oceans of silencelet me drift there for a lifetime of moments without carelet me know what its like to drown in sweet beautylet me live t..
next heart's song

next heart's song

A Poem by MARK JOHN JUNOR


there are days when the words comelike fevered friends grasping at lapelsurgently telling the tale with gasping breath other times they come like a sw..