The Black butterfly waves away her adorations
All she seeks is seclusion, subsuming slave to mortification
The Dear Air is all she can breath, captive of imaginary dreams
The Beacon resonates, but the hope isolates
The Wasteland's silky fingers caressing the virgin's face
So she is now, the covet of the damned
Programmed to every victim's pain
Carrying the weight of every sorrow
Drowning in wrongs she does not know
But paradise is at loss; she must go
Nature sighs after the bite
All my hopes fading
Don't look at me with those sorrowful eyes
How do you know exactly what I'm feeling?
I'm just the ghost flower passing by
And you can hear nature's sigh
I do not know?
The Blue Rose
upon a Hill of Heathers
seldom do know
Songs speak of its
but few have lived to see
its rich blood blue petals
smells of sweet ginger and honey
The legend has it
the blue rose can cure
a thousand different ailments
although, I am not
My Grandmother told me
if you eat three petals
before you sleep
the disease which
infects, out of you
it will seep
Not many have heard
the powers of the
for it secretly grows
Now that I'm retired
And know I can't be fired
I'll do anything I damn well please
And I don't give a hoot
Who hears me when I toot
For I have grown acustomed to the cheese
Old women and old men
As they grow nearer their end
Really just don't care what people think
Say and do what's on their mind
For as they age they find
They kinda like to raise a little stink
a sip of shinto
sun wen lotus
sways below cobalt sky
a thought of sobo
pink cherry blossom's
swirl the porcelain plate
hands folded in prayer
Shinto- All Nature / Worship / Ancestors / Spirit / Belief / Sacred Power
Noritake Cobalt / Piled 3-high / A Sip Saki or Sake' then passed / Three Three Nine / A Geisha gets her name / Shinto
I write to you my self,
Sending you myself
With words that I long for you
Need you and care about you
Hope you, miss you, and want
To share my heart, my life
With you, all these written
On a piece of paper
Capsule in time, in a bottle
On the way to you
Somewhere some time
You shall get it.
The seven seas
In lost time…
I do not know?
Grandmother Grandmother can’t you see
That all of you is a part of me
Whether you were absent you were not
I have got everything you have got
Grandmother Grandmother you fed me strong
Even though you were gone all along
I love you and miss you so much
I see you in the flash of red on a robin,
In the orange of a blackbird’s beak,
A brilliant brightness in the dark
Guiding me to what I seek. What that is, I am not quite sure,
But I feel I ought to see this through
First by daring myself to at last let go,
Then by putting all of my trust in you.
I wake to the songs of the birds
I hear them calling my name
I know their comings and their goings
Just as they know mine.
I have woken to the songs of the birds
They know me as I know them.
Season after season
My age has kept the count.
The going's on of time...
I know these birds
Just as my grandmother before me knew hers
And hers before her knew theirs
And so on, and so forth
Forever and ever throughout time.
Repeating, always repeating
Just as a repeating decimal would
Always and forever repeating
with no ending ever in sight.
(January 22, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
I have found the treasure
that lies at the Rainbow's end;
surrounded by Sweet William, for-get-me knots,
and crimson shades of velvet rose.
Near the cottage of old where I was young,
the quaint charm of the English garden.
Where time has not weathered with due harm,
swirls of hued asters still in the brisk fresh air.
Moments spent dancing with cupid in midst
of a sunny afternoon.
Seconds where dreams danced on the moon,
sweet perfume floats by to wisp away my breath.
Up ahead mine eyes view the grassy slopes
where a thousand of narcissus bloom.
I watch them sway the day away tossing
their sweet perfume to the winds.
Wicker seats and ivory benches upon I sit and muse.
The soul cannot thrive in the absence of a garden,
a rose plot, fringed pool and serenity.
Burn the sage, the leaves of rose and wintergreen
Light the candles in the middle of the afternoon.
From within my center core I breathe for more of this
paradise near heavens view.
Sweet surrender to growing things, cupids chimes in
melody rings, for here is a heavenly peace that mirrors
my thirsty soul.
My x4 Great Grandmother was from England a Duchess but she chose to marry my X4 Great
Grandfather and lost her inheritance and rights for neglecting the wishes of the family in
England. He was a Captain of the sea and brought many to the American shores of Mass. In
reading and studying, I found she loved to write of the sea and those things she cherished
from England and growing up, from memoires, she has touched my muse and from time to time,
I let her speak of such cherished beautiful things.
There are moments in my life
when I think of my past.
Wish I could bring them back
I remember the time as a child,
when I used to play with my friends;
Our home was a place for fun,
with my siblings doing their share.
When school days come,
I would always have an extra hour,
for my homework and other plans
that comprise my studies at that time.
When summer whizzes by,
more excitement to be with friends;
to play with them and visit other places
make a deal for a wholesome year.
Whenever Christmas comes,
preparations are at hand,
like decorations, singing, and parties all over,
to make our celebrations happier and significant to all.
I still remember how we pray together
with our grandmother in her bedroom
a rosary or other memorized devotions
to lift up to God so many intentions.
With the passage of time,
changes have championed the best;
with Christian values to reflect
and thus incarnate throughout the rest.