Friday, December 1, 2017




Missing pieces
are plucked
from your heart
and mine
to build a bridge
that crosses
the ancient divide
with a single path
that aligns
what each of us needs
to complete
the divine puzzle
of our new life.


The poet speaks of love
as an abstract emotion,
as a pure essence,
as a longing of the heart,
as a grasp toward the ineffable,
as a projection of mystery,
as a hope for better days,
as a journey through life’s labyrinthine maze,
as a path through the murky haze,
as a whisper of something whimsical,
as a passion without boundaries,
as an effort to reach a state of perfect peace.

Yes, a poet speaks of love
in this way
until love is finally found,
and then a poet learns
to speak of love
as fact,
as certainty,
as purpose,
as principle,
as absolute truth
born from eternal salvation.


I can taste
fifty years
on the tip
of my tongue
in the blink
of an eye

and all that time
you will reside
as the brightest light
that constantly shines
in the front
of my loving mind.

The star of my sky.
The age of good wine.
The sweetest of sighs.
The blessed divine.

If I can accomplish
just one thing
every day
for the rest
of my life

it will be
to find
new ways
each morning
in which to adore you.


The girl with a song
for every occasion

helps me learn
a new lesson about love
every morning when
my eyes open to the world
as her music greets
the romantic space in my soul
that's been waiting asleep
until the dream finally awakened

The girl with thirteen
turquoise jewels in her hair

has diamonds for eyes
that shine brighter than gold
from the depths of the sky
down upon an open field
full of yellow stargazer lilies
lighting up the world
with their fresh scent of hope


Art is not an institution…
it is an inner fire
born out of those
whose eyes pierce deeply
into hidden burning beauty.

Art is not a class taught by Academia…
it is a holy vibration
pulsing through the veins
of those who sense the truth
of this world’s perfect purity.

Art is not a transaction…
it is a soulful expression
that has no choice
but to be released
as a reflection of the Source.

Art is not a sales pitch…
it is an intense emotion
coupled with a vision
of crystalline transcendence
that ruptures open new dimensions.

Art is not yet ready for the grave…
it is a raging protest
against the mortal flesh
that sings the sweetest melody
about overcoming life’s suffering.



  1. Congratulations to Scott Thomas Outlar!!! I admire your gift with words very much. I have a few favorite lines that were chosen from each of your Poems. In "Coming Of Age"~ "....and then a poet learns to speak of love as face...." In your poem "Whimsically Blissful" I loved, "...what each of us needs to complete the divine puzzle...". In "Transcending Definitions", I loved this line, "Art is not a class taught by is a holy vibration..." What can I say, You have a gift from God. It is with words. Congratulations on your many Accomplishments! Barbara Suen.