Oh! The swirling umbrellas,
candy rain, and singing souls!
I imagined no thing as this!
Diamond eyes, flower lips,
tender skies kissing hearts! all
the dreams of a dreamer who
writes for the soul!
i cried.
to still write a poem
a soul should go above us
living for all today
these dreams are with us
and every day they do
have the strong voice
of meaning
:: 03-09-2015 ::
Love is a Nation of little people
the invisible workers of
inexhaustible nature
a titter-patter walking
across all hearts
and passing through doors
and across erected walls
some cry, “Hello!”
but mostly they go unknown
with tiny eyes glistening…
and heavy souls
:: 03-09-2015 ::
TIS LOVE ALL OF LIFE!
And by the clock of life
i heard the birds
begin at times by three
and some by four
and my heart by soul
i heard my spirit
and times of love
and pain o’fear
I paint their song
in deep red-kiss
A distant neighbor
came by to say,
“i heard the brook
speak your name
like water upon
the rocks!”
I took his hand
and said these words,
“Tis love, all of life!”
:: 03-08-2015 ::
since when beginning
i always did
believe in you
that I did always
love that till I loved
never lived me
till I loved you
I did always love
my heart told me
that I never lived
until I loved
since when beginning
i did always love you
:: 03-08-2015 ::
That distance once between
us- that quiet
balance of silence
And will to be strangers
has died
I buried it the other day
while holding ancient pottery
and then i became alive
forever yours
:: 03-08-2015 ::
i touched a flower
on Glisse 49
the sun was distant
but not so much
as the home of my blood;
my Earth gave to me.
It hurt
but the flower soothed
the circuits
of my heart
my humanity
is a gift by Man
but my Soul
by The Creator of All!
:: 03-08-2015 ::
My sweet Spring voice
throated blue jay
sing! What sound
when the voice of
that woman we
dearly love!
:: 03-08-2015 ::
THE entrance was kept
in well lit corners
the rug a long dead beard
once hung upon a living face
and walls adorned in history
like the smell of something
that took its last breath
by dimmed years ago
And the boxes! Of spoons,
knives, and busy-doing life
and one of photographs;
the stolen moments of time
caught unprepared!
Faded, raped, and torn
of once living souls from
the 1900s — i could not hope
but to find one to make my own;
then caught my eye it did!
clearly written in white margin
“May 4, 1886” A Victorian
death photo — of me!
:: 03-07-2015 ::
and heart the large
like-moon beating
within her breast
i become in love
like one with her
and wish for her
to be for me
like-moon beating
within my breast
i become in love
like one with her
:: 03-08-2015 ::
twice then three
thrice then four
that i have known
the softly hard killing of heart!
what shame to have loved
my lover, avaunt!
All eclipses are the graceful
art of the hand of life!
twice then tree
thrice then rope
a bulging knot upon the neck!
and where my tears shall fall!
the grace of wind!
:: 03-05-2015
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