So Many Passions

by John Herlihy

So many passions,

So little wear,

So many fashions,

So little care.

Some passions burn,

In the flame of desire.

Eyes in the heart yearn,

Smoldering embers of fire.

Passions with no control,

The seeing mind now blind.

Wicked fires the heart stole,

Naughty pleasure to find.

Passions drawn from instinct,

With a mind of t heir own.

Felt with a smile and a wink,

From dust and ash sewn.

Ah those passion, so dreaded,

Every so sweet, ever so sour.

To blinding lust forever wedded,

Impassioned seconds fill the hour.

Passions that feel like beating rain,

Driving hard against one’s breast.

Passions that feel like sharp pain,

Unrelenting, never at rest.

Passions that I confess are mind,

Living with for me for a day.

Running amok thru depths of mind,

Only ti dissipate as mist away.

Passions with their burden of guilt,

After they have run their course.

In the river of our lives as silt,

Leaving behind feelings of remorse.

These passions I never did own,

Found in a place far away.

In some distant land grown,

For brief moments had their way.

Finally all passion spent,

Lost in the long long-ago.

Mad desires something lent,

Never knew, now I know.

Always tomorrow, passion said,

With a broad grin, haughty air.

While innerly, the heart bled,

My brow furrowed, lost in prayer.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Thursday 24`April 2025