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The Soul Mate

Kaie in Ireland

Kaie in Ireland

Copyright 2012, DC Bianchino, All Rights Reserved.

A Love Story Is A Moment That Captures Time
Now, Yours And Mine…
The Soul Mate.

Her profile in poetry…

She scrubs herself with coffee grounds
Her skin smooth as the flute is with sounds
Her hair one stops when it is let down
Her dress, she’s a gypsy freedom’s her gown.

The smell of morning with its first light
When earth’s perfume is there at its height
Like the scent of a lily when May has the right
These are her favourites their essence, Her quite.

Her passion are pictures she has the eye
For what she sees are scenes that hide
Her thoughts are clear refined as with glass
Playful sincere she’s a lady with class.

Her body is perfect as perfection will have
She is desire love’s most potent salve
Her colours are rainbow all have their place
One to the other she honours with grace.

Her looks are familiar as the soul is to fire
She needs nobody she walks someplace higher
The earth is her home and free to roam
She is its heart like that in this poem.

Her white horse waits on sand next to sea
It is her spirit pure and is free
Her lips hold a curious smile
She is a goddess Natures child.

She’s a mixture of all that’s ever been
Yet pure as light from where it begins
The love she wants has no doubt
It is everywhere when all about.

She’s sensitive fragile as a flower with frost
Yet strong as a seed in an apricot
She believes in destiny as with its fate
I know this is true, she is; my soul mate!

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Copyright 2012, DC Bianchino, All Rights Reserved
Seagulls and Swans and fishing boats
Mudflats and moors together that cope.
Waiting the tide to turn and to float
Leaving the harbor with dreams filled with hope.
Here where mist and clouds fill the sky
Roads filled with curves and blind to the eye
Travelers make their way with each tide
Over again with sea birds that fly.
For here, the land ends, were it not for the wind
Carrying with it those memories of when.
And where the sheep now gather again
Between rock and hill, and the green of the glen.


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In The Poem

Copyright 2012, DC Bianchino, All Rights Reserved.

She saw my face in a dragonfly
And then a snake that came inside
Then she thinks she is the bride
And runs away so she can hide.

Brigid, she was there to see
So there could be the poetry
Showing love how it was free
Assailing love its mystery.

Dagda knew when there again
The firey arrow in pointed pen
That raised the flesh the skin within
For in the poem is where she’s been.

And the wind and the fire is the heart of hearth
And a smile and wave to where it starts
And a chill is warmed in the still moving parts
Leaving forever Brigid’s  mark,
In; the poem…..

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