Power of the Lost Pen

I went to a bookstore one day in search of a place within distant shores
Business, Essence and GQ Magazines welcomed me with a smile, flaunting themselves like fashionable manikins amidst the Christmas Holiday
Though bright, shiny and festive in color…could never tickle my fancy
Perhaps I had been too focused to notice their proposition
I was searching for something simple
As I continued, the fresh crisp smell of books and novels not long on the shelves fixed my eyes
My tradition?
Thumb through the cool pages, let spark an idea and if the story suits my fancy, find a quite place and let my imagination journey
Yet I was dissatisfied
Pondering why disgruntled
To my side lies a pen
Perhaps dropped by one before me
No comeliness it possessed
A simple beat up pen, white and blue in color with some company’s logo fading along its spine
Then I remembered my pad I had packed the morning of in my backpack, which lie, to the left of my ankle while I reclined
I took out my pad and began to write
Ah…then I remembered the origin of my journey
Discovered by this little pen which embraced my spiral pad as if they were lovers, Romeo and Juliet
I wrote and wrote uninhibited by imagination
Each stroke of the pen brought unto me the fresh smell of lilies
The light tap and soft salty smell of rain
Caressed my ears with the sound of children laughing
The touch of a baby’s skin
The clouds presented at my feet
And the roses against my skin
Time had stopped for a moment
People vanished into thin air around me
I had created a world of impossibilities
All made possible by this unknown pen

Written by Savaslas Lofton
c.2008

At Love’s Gate

A traveler walked alone, highway unknown
The mountains surrounded her much like a crowded stadium…there was only silence
The sound of each footstep patterned the pace of time like taps of a muffled drum
Her destination yet unfulfilled
She had come from a town full of hurt, heartache and pain
A town of unwelcoming thoughts pushing her around and aside the very autumn leaves fly in the midst of an angry wind…much torment
She ventured to escape
Love she pursued
She understood traveling this road could be one of chance
A journey that stood chance of leaving her more smitten than before
One she was willing to take
Letting rest and peace be the drive of her life if not reached
The thought alone would leave her contented feeling the journey’s worth
This young woman and people like her are searching, surrounded by a cloud of witnesses from distant places: spectators, predators, and ones whom qualify
Their hearts traveling still
In search of love
In search of peace
In search of someone to love
Be loved…
Finally welcomed at last at love’s gate…the place to finally call home

By Savaslas Lofton
c.2008

The Arrow of Beauty: The Sight of Love

The Arrow of Beauty; the Sight of Love

Botanical twisters like navy crimson tides,
The moon appears sudden with a glow of light
A breeze flows tenderly like the stroke of an infant’s hand
While making sweet music; smooth jazz under the midnight moon
Out of the shadows appears what it seems
Freedom dressed as a bouquet of fresh roses
Her white linen clothes boast free flowing against the wind
Men stand enchanted as she dances and spin
Her hips are rhythmic
Her face so tender
Skin distinctive like the symmetry of pearls
Graceful, cool and polite
Her smile though thin as silk red ribbon is as bold as the waves of the Mediterranean Sea
Who can stand against her without surrendering to her beauty?
Many have succumbed
By the countenance of the brightness and warmth of Eve
It is my friend…the glowing sight of an enchanted beautiful woman

by Savaslas Lofton

Through Childlike Eyes

Through Childlike Eyes
By Savaslas Lofton
c.2008

Imagine your world through the eyes of a child,
Untouched, untainted, unharmed by the world’s system of thought and belief.
Imagine your world without heartache, grief, disappointment, fear of what others could ever do or say to you,
Even what they think of you.
I find as life continues, many search for the path back to normalcy when beauty and playfulness had its place,
Back to a time where the meaning of hatred, discrimination, sex, abuse had neither meaning nor definition.
It was a time of pureness of heart,
A time when the senses were, heighten by beautiful colors of nature,
Remember the place?
It appears into adulthood that someway, somehow we find ourselves on the other side of the looking glass,
Rain sliding down the window pain,
Wanting to break free to a world we’ve only experienced once.
Through childlike eyes,
Yes, I remember.
I remember when I see the child swinging or playing on the monkey bars in the park, with a face that glows like the noonday sun,
I remember when I look into the sparkling of a baby’s eyes as he smile intrinsically searching for the words to say instead of “goo-goo” or “ga-ga”,
I remember when I see my five-year-old son run free without concern; the dangers this world contains,
I only pray he remains protected.
Through childlike eyes,
We strive,
At times tired of surviving,
Trying to stay alive instead of being who we are in a world that desires for us to be otherwise.

Black Hands and Wine

Black Hands and Wine

The potency of your soft, tender lips overcomes me like the sweet sensation of aged red wine,
Leaving me enchanted,
Floating like cradled autumn leaves--graced by the lullaby of a light and gentle breeze.
The moment we kissed,
My mind reminisced,
Resurfaced were the thoughts of cool waterfalls,
The taste of honey and deep rubies of passion and fire.
The smell of your perfume penetrated my senses like smooth flowing rivers.
Your hips boast the deep curves of a bouquet of roses,
Your cheekbones are like the curvaceous slopes of Roanoke,
None to compare to thee my love,
For you are fearfully and wonderfully made.
Here’s a toast to the memories we’ve shared with each other,
Playful thoughts of whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ear.
Our hands and our hearts intertwined like healthy grape vines,
As we made a toast to love,
A toast to us,
You for me and me for you…forever we will always be.
by Savaslas Lofton
c.2008

Pay Attention and Listen

He didn’t know she was fading before his very eyes,
He should have seen the sparkle in her eyes dim like the midnight clouds caressing the left cheek of the moon.
Her lips once smooth with the oil of affirmation and love had dried up, leaving her disappointed wondering if love's flame would ever dance again.
He should have noticed the youthful glow of her face fade as she struggled to stay in the chalk boundaries of her life’s lane.
He was losing her each day,
She uttered not a word hoping he would notice the clues,
She suffered in silence, tormented by discouragement and thoughts of how long rest would come,
Nonetheless, the world spun steady still.
Perhaps she would be just fine if he would just call and say, “I love you” or “I am here for you.”
Perhaps things wouldn’t be as bad, if he had made her feel…well…noticed and appreciated once again.
She wasn’t the kind of woman who was selfish, controlling, manipulative or driven by greed.
She was simple, loving, kind, encouraging,
One easy of conversation, selfless in her giving,
She desired the love she gave in return.
She wasn’t a weak woman,
No, not at all,
Not withstanding, even the strong get weary,
The hopeful most often spar against the feeling of hopelessness.
She was crying out in silence for help,
A hug,
An embrace,
A smile,
A kiss,
Compassion without feeling the obligation of sex,
Needing to be held until rest abode,
Till virtue returned as a dove searching for peace and tranquility.

Written by Savaslas Lofton
c.2008

Your Season Has Come

You have no idea,
The great things that are about to happen to you,
The great endeavors you will do,
How you will inspire others to succeed.
You have only caught a glimpse of all of the wonderful things that shall come to pass,
Sure you’ve cried,
But your seed of success needed water—a small sacrifice for such great success,
Sure you've waited,
But the harvest was not yet ripe.
The dew of the morning signifies a new day,
A fresh start,
Thus, your time is now to arise and shine.
Be strong and courageous,
Fight to win,
Soar above the clouds like eagles.
It’s your time to spring forth and blossom like Cymbidium Orchids,
Bring summer to those yet in their winter season.

By Savaslas Lofton, c.2008
c.2008