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.
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
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.
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.
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
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!
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