you are every love song ever written
you are every sonnet ever penned

you are every perfect red rose, all dewy
your kindness making you lack thorns:
rosa sans spina

you are a picture-postcard prince
clad in stately midnight velvet,
glowing as an angel
when we recited eternal vows

you are every dream I ever dreamed…
dreams of magic, dreams of carnality
dreams of mystery, dreams of spirit

you are every concerto ever composed
you are a perfect ballet of wit --
wry and dry, but I love it!

you are every sea-washed beach at sunset…
you are the periwinkle clouds
floating against the face of the sun

you are every tranquil forest grotto
avian symphonies filling sylvan cathedrals

you are the bright hero if every play
acted out on the stage of my imagination

you are every beat of my secret heart
hidden inside my fearing breast:
wanting, needing, loving

you are every dream I ever dreamt,
dreams of unconditional love,
you are every beauty ever beheld
with grateful eyes and cherished

you are my very inspiration,
the reason I write poetry;
you are my muse,
and for that, I love you…
for you are my friend

Copyright 1999, 2006 Mary Newell Rogers

When I loved a beautiful man
he was my obsession, he was my muse,
he was my inspiration,
my tongue became a paintbrush.

He was my obsession, he was my muse:
my mouth became a canvas,
my tongue became a paintbrush
I dedicated to him.

My mouth became a canvas,
poems poured from my fingertips.
I dedicated to him
every solitary waking moment.

Poems poured from my fingertips,
drinking with him as his lady love,
every solitary waking moment
I lived my life in myriad ways.

Drinking with him as his lady love,
as I have painted in countless poems,
I lived my life in myriad ways
in a white house overlooking the sea.

As I have painted in countless poems,
being forever in love with him;
in a white house overlooking the sea,
I kissed him in the first morning’s light.

Being forever in love with him,
a prince found in a children’s tale;
I kissed him in the first morning’s light –
he vanished with the dew off the grass.

A prince found in a children’s tale
– he was my inspiration –
he vanished with the dew off the grass
when I loved a beautiful man.

Copyright 1998, 2006 Mary Newell Rogers

Your eyes have shot
fiery arrows into my heart,
now I burn, ache, yearn
to bathe in the clear waters
of your aqua regard.
When alone, I remember
witty repartee flying,
meaningless flirting,
serious talks, heart-to-heart,
friend-to-friend.
And I know I love you, regardless
of time, place, circumstance.
Your eyes captured my heart,
unsuspecting, and I love you,
regardless of painful images
my own eyes have seen.
My heart drips ruby blood
from a far deadlier arrow,
one poisonous to inchoate dreams
I once dared dream of you and I.
My love, being immortal,
is only wounded, a Prometheus:
titan, fore-thinker, fire-bringer.
Jealousy breaks her fast on my liver,
I scream in abject agony,
but my love never, never dies.
If only I could pierce
your armored indifference
with my own fiery dart,
make you love me as I do you,
enlist the aid of kindly Cupid,
and shoot arrows into your heart.

Copyright 2006 Mary Newell Rogers

Sing of the home of our hearts, where
Thoth gives life to Ma’at –
Egypt is the home of our hearts!
Ptah creates us in Ma’at,
Hathor gives seven beauties in Ma’at,
Anubis preserves us in Ma’at,
Nuit watches over us in Ma’at,
Isia loves is perfectly in Ma’at.
Egypt is the home of our hearts!

Kemet is the home of our hearts!
Amon-Ra embraces Ma’at, even
yet, in Kemet, which we call Egypt.

Sing of the home of our hearts!
We strive to love in Ma’at,
Ogdoad preceded us, and Ma’at.
Geb grounds us in Ma’at.
Go forth to live in Ma’at!
Egypt is the home of our hearts!
Ra-Herakhty enlightens us to Ma’at.
Sing of the home of our hearts!

Pharaoh humanly embodies Ma’at,
Osiris resurrects us in Ma’at.
Egypt is the home of our hearts!
Ma’at is Divine Right Order.

Copyright 1999, 2006 Mary Newell Rogers

Journey back 4,000 years / 4,000 miles to
Africa when Egypt ruled the world. The
“Neter Neteru” were the gods of Kemet:
Isis, Osiris, Thoth – their names in Greek.
Can you hear the fellahin chant
eternally as they plow Nile mud?

Down the river Nile we slowly float
on a reed barque, checked linen sail
whipping in the hot northern wind.
Sailing through the gates of time, we find
Egypt beautiful as she always was, and
you are my very dear friend.

Copyright 1998, 2006 Mary Newell Rogers

The sun may set,
the sun may rise,
you may not even be by my side.
Then sun lays a warm hand
on my pale, upturned face,
reminds me of your hand in mine.
I remember your sparkling glance,
the echo of your voice,
every promise you hold
in the palm of a calloused hand.
The sun caresses the face of flowers,
heats streets of the crumbling city.
The sun touches you when I cannot,
but thoughts of you make me smile.

Copyright 1998, 2006 Mary Newell Rogers

You hurried down the aisle
of the family liquor store,
Nile green gaze slammed into mine,
shattered time and awareness
like the crystal goblet at my feet.
Blushes flamed you face,
shy smile peaked out.
We shared a laugh,
understanding lost to my blindness:
“It takes a really intelligent
person to be obtuse, you know.”

The Kid had a Napoleon complex
that could lay you open like original sin.
I must remember to thank him
-- at least, in thought, if not deed –-
that errand was where I first saw you
and was lost to experience.

In a circuitous speech about complicated lives,
you told me not to think of you
-- easier to ask me to stop breathing –-
but the store moaned to me,
called to me incessantly,
haunted my waking dreams.

I sobbed into my reflection,
(mercifully unseen, unheard, unnoticed)
shuttering frozen sepia frames
behind a wall of silent tears:
every moment, hour, week, month
-- you my only prayer –-
then the endless dissection of memory.

If I had an open broadcast
piping through the gates of time,
frequency tuned only to your heart,
I’d mirror your secret fantasies,
become your perfect woman:
Friend, lover, family, mate,
cutting my own groove
through the pulse of the city
for you alone.

Copyright 1998, 2006 Mary Newell Rogers

I would I could welcome you
in the corridors of my mind,
show you every room of my castle,
keep no secret from you.
I would I could slowly walk
the lengths of your hallways,
tour every chamber of your domain,
read every book in your library,
know you completely.
I would we could love each other,
clasp each other’s hands tightly,
journey through life together.
I would it was not only a dream,
to live with you in Sakkara.

Copyright 1998, 2006 Mary Newell Rogers

I'll never see a lily again without remembering you,
and the long languid nights, star-studded,
sitting companionably on the porch swing.
The dear familiar melody of the Westminster clock
as it sang out the minutes, the hours, the days,
now escaped and gone, gone forever,
trickled as water through numb fingers,
but infinitely more precious than jewels.
Gone as a mirage dissolves in the desert,
the illusion of our times, now past,
the illusions of our lives, now spent.
I remember the lilies, and my heart fills
with love for you, and sadness,
and joy that our love, so very precious,
stands for all time, cannot be threatened
because it is. And so are we,
reflections of God's love for us and each other,

I'll never see a lily again without remembering you,
and the cool summer nights, star-studded,
when we ran from ourselves and from life,
nearly drowned in the River Lethe, forgetting.
Then I drove past the lilies to see you caged
like Paul or Silas, and it broke my heart in two
to know that time drifted by, and I was helpless
as moments became a trickle, a flood,
sweeping us away as a sirocco wind,
the illusion of our time together, now past,
the illusions of our lives spent apart.
I remember the lilies and my heart fills
with love for you, and gladness,
and joy, that our precious friendship
stands for all time, cannot be threatened
because it is. And so are we,
expressing God's love in us and each other.

I'll never see a lily again without remembering you,
and the sweet passionate nights, star-studded,
as we ran headlong into life, and true love
spilled over to gild our hearts and souls pure gold.
We loved away the minutes and the hours,
days transformed into years, now gone,
then your fate led you away. I watched, helpless
to be anything, anyone other than who I am.
Then I swept away the anger, the guilt, the tears,
the illusion that your love doesn't matter,
the illusion of our lives, now shattered.
I remember the lilies you gave me, how our hearts filled
with love for each other. But my memories
still bring me joy; even apart, my love for you
stands for all time, cannot be threatened
because it is. and so are we, if only in passing.
Loving God in loving you and all others,
I lay the lilies of forgiveness on God's Holy Altar:
A symbol of love for all time.

Copyright 1994, 2006 Mary Newell Rogers