The red rose may be beautiful or grand
Sensual even LOVELY.
THEN....I strolled the garden BLUE
I saw the INDIGO ROSE
The BLUEST I had ever seen
A TEASING picture of the
The blue ROSE is EXOTIC, she feeds
The WINSOME ROSE shame with
Professional precision on a petal plate
Of pleasing purity.
Shades of BRILLIANT blue FLASH ACROSS A MOVIE
SCREEN BLUE VIXEN SUPREME
She sends the entire garden into bland oblivion.
A blue diamond glimmering in a GOLDEN heaven.
All other roses WILT of envy clamoring at her
Heels with CONGESTED JEALOUSLY.
When I set eyes upon this ROSE it so inspired me
To see what had not been seen.
The INDIGO GARDEN and all its splendor
THE IMMEASURABLE SOUL OF THE
MAGNETIC practically hypnotizing
These are the INDIGO GARDEN guarded
Secrets I've been knowing
THE INDIGO WAY
ALWAYS THE INDIGO ROSE FOREVER
When widow whore weeps
while worshiping, wide windows
welcomes whistling wings.
Wrongfully... wretched ways washed
white with waters wondrous works.
CHASING THE DREAM
Sahara like breeze blows Nubian melodies
serenading warm ebony loins. Nile River
ecstasy birth beautiful bronze broods
in the spaces left by wandering time.
Truth etches freedom threading
between the banks of reality;
in the shadows of Moses
the glimpse from the mountain top reflects
fleeing visions of the drummer’s dream deferred.
The morning comes: a new day begins.
I never did see a more beautiful expression
As if all four seasons had exploded
Imploded, eroded all the somber
A wonder so delicate...an art she exposed
Utterly unopposed is the dancers heart
animations of vibrations move through her
A Van Gogh of flow
like aged, cellared Bordeux
Wreathes of wind, sun and soul weave
down around her roots through her being
freeing sensations into the air
As if with Gaia's divine love affair.
Eyes drawn and beating heart unconcealed
She wields her radical, energetic shield...
The power to heal, to breathe, to love
above the brilliant sun, moon and stars
Oh what an orchestrated art in tune.
Spirit calls out to her from Earth
The birth of sound and soul unearthed
Oh what an art i've observed
To preserve the true art of a dancer's heart.
Wild Fire n Roots
May 3, 2013
I am trying
youth dem dying
the real warriors
da lions an kings dem
not walk upon earth again
see it der- see it der
where is the roots
where is the heart
we knew fe dem love
deep love was penetrating
the youth dem na
feel it-see- dem imitating
we are demonstrating
the depth of wats left .
Of the real love
I am trying
The youth dem dying
dem cannot survive
without a heart
on fire- That deep rooted desire
Wat happen to dat
we need the youth dem
To catch the fire-We Need
Passion and love
to rise up again
mek dem feel it-
mek fem know it
so they can show it...
So true lions and kings
can walk pon earth again
I want to live to see
dem love again
Like the ones we
knew back when.
Tosh ---Oh my Gosh.
I hope the passion
rises again . and
love N desire-
Spread like wild fire.
And ignite our
youth to deal with dem roots
fe know dem
purpose an dem worth
A man so afflicted
Must divert distressing thoughts
And not combat with them
To attempt otherwise is madness
To have the compliance of the mind
Is a great profound art
It may be attained in considerable degrees
Let him take a cause of solidarity
And not fixate on the exclusion of normality
Let him reprimand his mind for it's indignation
Let him contrive
To have as many retreats
For his infinity of littleness
That militates against aspirations
Soft, still, the silence heaves
I inhale, the Spirit breathes;
Flowing, growing Christ bestowing
Life and strength surpassing knowing.
Scented, soothing, respiration
Taking in His inspiration;
Filling, feeling Christ exalted
Love and Grace supremely vaulted.
Sure, secure the Spirit wind
Where flows the Sovereign;
God revealing Christ resplendent
Hope and purpose codependent.
When He breathes upon the morn
Hope has dawned and life is born;
He my all in all shall be
From now unto eternity.
A Dental Alliteration
Both bearable breakable bicuspids became beautiful
by being blatantly brushed by me.
How is that for an alliteration? You don't have a
category for dental.
James Thomas Horn
Here comes the Watcher heading toward the hemlock
Watching the world, becomes his wealth,
toward which he tails around you, to every place, today and tomorrow.
When The Watcher walks, time slows down
Bearing his name, watches die out.
For The Watcher walks forward, caring less about the weather, waiting
for your fate to take place.
People like you and me, prepare for the worst, peeping along the post down home,
where the watch of the night, nears around and touches neat and soft
the rim of your face, right becomes night, and vacations along the rim down low.
LIFE WITH ITS OBSTACLES
It does become hard
It does has its obstacles
It will tackle you down
There will be challenges
There will be a big dark cloud
There will be big mountain standing in front of you
You won't believe that you will pass through
When hard times strikes over
Step intpo your inner strength
Know who you are
Remember where you come from
Reminisce of where you are going
Remember you'r ambition
Remember your mission and vision you set up for life
All hard times come and go
Nothing last forever either its happiness nor sadness
They both have to happen in your life,so that your future can be fiminine and stable
They are there to make you strong person and build concrete fundation of your future
When hard times strikes be happy and enjoy every moment of that
Smile at the confusion and never ask why me
Say thanks GOD I came across this, this is an awesome experience ever
When hard times strikes
Laugh, Sing, scream, cry
Never forget who you are
Never give up
You have to fall,then rise
Nobody said this life is a smooth route with no pot holes and mountains
Know who you are, believe in yourself, love yourself...
Then hard times will fade
Thou art enjoined to enjoyment,
Exhorted to exultation.
Thy responsibility is to be responsive,
and impishness be thy imperative.
So cherish thy good cheer,
And be not judicious in jubilation –
Rather exude exuberance,
For to revel is a revelation, and
It is on pain of death that
That thou art commanded to Live!
Line upon lovely line
Of poetry roses
Sparked and budded
By inspiration words
Like that of an Ode on a Grecian Urn
Makes my melting heart’s hunger burn
Elevated inspiration spike
From lines like
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty”
This keeps me up at night
Under covers tight
Writing in my head
When I should sleep in bed
My wandering mind faltering
Until alliterations are altering
Mindless mumbo jumbo
Into tailored poetry
That’s when I know it
I am a poet
Never felt so alive!
Or me! I must contrive!
I so suppose
This poem could condense concisely
Onto one linked line nicely
Poetry is me, me poetry