No strangers are your eyes and mine
Intently , as we gaze into their streams
When the mind's wings o'erspread
our spirit world of dreams.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Moody Blues: I Know You're Out There Somewhere
I know you are out there somewhere.
Are you a particle
from an exploding
sad star in
a far away galaxy.
Are you the mist
that rises above
the highest treetops,
or the gleam from
the cresent moon?
Perhaps it's you
riding atop a shooting star
or one tear falling
in a raging river.
My voice tells me
you are lost between worlds,
a soul bound
by waves rushing
to a desolate shore.
Are you hiding
in a city
under the sea?
Or hidden quietly
in the forest.
You will hear my voice.
And come to me
as an exploding star.
For love is eternal
and will not be denied.
You will hear my voice.
I will find you,
somehow.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
The Calling
I hear the calling, so softly, but with certainty. My soul will glide like a wind driven cloud and when I get to my destination, you will be standing there waiting for me.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
The Veil
Darkness and light
from their secret embrace
sends their smiles
with promises
of new life.
The earth trembles
hearing the verses of lies.
Not the cloak
nor sprinklers dry
imposing limp litanies
that drape impotent
as a lifeless thunderbolt
will make a difference.
As wild dances dance
and choruses swell
the veil lifts
to the gates of hell.
Like a whirlwind
he spews his breath
this unstoppable
chariot of fire
from their secret embrace
sends their smiles
with promises
of new life.
The earth trembles
hearing the verses of lies.
Not the cloak
nor sprinklers dry
imposing limp litanies
that drape impotent
as a lifeless thunderbolt
will make a difference.
As wild dances dance
and choruses swell
the veil lifts
to the gates of hell.
Like a whirlwind
he spews his breath
this unstoppable
chariot of fire
Monday, June 14, 2010
Writing Candida- The Making of A Princess
The poems and short stories I have written, including a mystery novel, flowed with ease. This novel is bittersweet with every sentence because of the immeasurable amount of energy I put into writing it.Let me explain.
The conscious and unconscious are mindful energy planes that we all possess. The only difference being the level in which we use them. Candida had questions about her contribution to life. She knows there are more things to be discovered, more truth, and more power in a soul that needs to be set free.
The same energy Candida feels, I feel as I attempt to convey some reason-ability to her story. There are always unanswered questions in hope and faith but in silent steps, one can unveil a thriving will that comes to light. Candida does this in a most powerful sway of realizing the truth of her desires and demands.
What is difficult in writing the story is being able to vividly describe her projected thoughts and will. The passion is so strong that it makes the soul tremble or become totally exhausted in feeling her plight.
The novel is moving at a slow pace but a distinctive pace, one of endurance of the cries of the soul.

The conscious and unconscious are mindful energy planes that we all possess. The only difference being the level in which we use them. Candida had questions about her contribution to life. She knows there are more things to be discovered, more truth, and more power in a soul that needs to be set free.
The same energy Candida feels, I feel as I attempt to convey some reason-ability to her story. There are always unanswered questions in hope and faith but in silent steps, one can unveil a thriving will that comes to light. Candida does this in a most powerful sway of realizing the truth of her desires and demands.
What is difficult in writing the story is being able to vividly describe her projected thoughts and will. The passion is so strong that it makes the soul tremble or become totally exhausted in feeling her plight.
The novel is moving at a slow pace but a distinctive pace, one of endurance of the cries of the soul.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
The Dancer
The Dancer
The night I slept, I awoke in a dream
And there you stood, this lovely beam
Casting your poise, your beauty fair
As music dances in midnight’s air.
You are the song of the Troubadour,
The lute and gay tambour
loved of yore.
You dance the mazy dance of old
With your flowing robe laced with gold
And your gay attire and jeweled hair
Brush by me the odors sweet,
Where in a dream I came
To kneel and breathe love’s ardent flame
That lays burning beneath your feet.
The night I slept, I awoke in a dream
And there you stood, this lovely beam
Casting your poise, your beauty fair
As music dances in midnight’s air.
You are the song of the Troubadour,
The lute and gay tambour
loved of yore.
You dance the mazy dance of old
With your flowing robe laced with gold
And your gay attire and jeweled hair
Brush by me the odors sweet,
Where in a dream I came
To kneel and breathe love’s ardent flame
That lays burning beneath your feet.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Celine Dion - The Power Of Love
A power that never vanishes or scatters in the never ending realm of eternity
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Welcome
I would like to welcome all who visit me.
I am who I think I am
Not all you think you see
I am captain of my soul
Treading in the sea.
Robert A Meacham
I am who I think I am
Not all you think you see
I am captain of my soul
Treading in the sea.
Robert A Meacham
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Home in Texas
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About Me
- Robert A Meacham
- Texas, United States
- Creative writing has always been a passion with me. I currently write short stories for the amazon shorts program and have two projects in the works, mystery novels. My family is my inspiration.
