Randy Weeks

Published on July 27th, 2022 | by Randy Weeks

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The View From The Balcony: “Poems from the Pen of the Sundown Cowboy”

(Self-proclaimed Poet Lariat of The Balcony)

I Needed to See You

I needed to see you,
but you were not here.
I needed to see you,
to feel you near.
I needed to see you,
the brightness of your smile.
I needed to see you—
sit and talk a little while.
I needed to see you,
to gaze upon your face.
I needed to see you—
just a moment in your grace.
I needed to see you,
the sparkle in your eyes.
I needed to see you,
to make my spirit rise.
I needed to see you,
walking up the street
I needed to see you,
to make me feel complete.
I needed to see you,
to know that you are real.
I needed to see you,
to help my wounded heal.
I needed to see you,
e’en though you are not mine.
I needed to see you,
and dream of you supine.
I needed to see you,
to feed upon your laugh.
I needed to see you,
to suckle like a calf.
I needed to see you,
to open up my soul.
I needed to see you,
to make my broken whole.
I needed to see you.
My heart was growing numb.
I needed to see you,
but, alas, you did not come.
I needed to see you,
nothing else would do.
I needed to see you.
Did you need to see me too?
I needed to see you,
if only once more,
but you will never again
walk through this door.
I needed to see you,
but I’ll see you no more.
Still, I needed to see you,
see you
once
more.

Cotton Patch Ecstasy

Do you remember
those steamy summer nights
in the heart of the Mississippi Delta
when cicadas sang
and fireflies punctuated the darkness
in a nature stream of performance art?
When the moon was full
and we’d wait until midnight
and run to the cotton fields
and strip down to nothing
but our running shoes,
passionately kissing and caressing,
then sprinting the turnrows
and playing naked tag?
Do you remember finding
that soft spot of rye
where we took off our shoes
and lay together in ecstasy
while the Big Dipper kept watch o’er us?
And the night the drunken high school kids
decided to drive the turnrows
and how we scrambled to hide
amid the cotton stalks,
cutting and scratching with
every step we took?
We gathered the empties
and placed them neatly
in the love nest we’d made,
but only after we’d coupled again?
Do you remember how we walked back
to get our shorts and shirts,
then walked home
where we soaked in rosewater
and drank Corona Lights?
Do you remember how sore we were
the next day
and how much our scratches burned?
Do you remember
the knowing glance between us
and our impish grins that said,
“Tomorrow night.
We do it again”?

Where Love Fore’er Abides

Night has fallen on the sea.
You are here inside of me.
Although dark the night might be,
I will rest in thee.
Sweet, the thought of your embrace.
Warm, the look upon your face.
No more tender, safer place.
No more sacred space.
Memories that bring me pain
turn into a sweet refrain.
I need never fear again.
Love is not in vain.
Worry not if I should weep.
Kiss my brow; caress my cheek.
Fold me in your love so deep
while I drift to sleep.
Dreams that come are sweet once more.
I hear laughter; I feel joy.
Love has pitched her tent once more.
I’m at heaven’s door.
When the morning sun dost rise,
when the sleep falls from my eyes,
I’ll awake in paradise
where love fore’er abides.

Tell Me You Love Me Again

Touching and holding—listen to your heart
beating so closely to mine.
Kissing, caressing—oblivious to time,
sharing the last glass of wine.
Hour after hour fades with the night.
Minutes pass slowly until morning’s light.
Hold me. Touch me. Keep me in your heart.
Tell me you love me again.

Randy Weeks is a Licensed Professional Counselor, a Certified Shamanic Life Coach, an ordained minister, a singer-songwriter, and an actor. He may be reached at randallsweeks@gmail.com.

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