Vase Dream - c'est la vie
White vase with no design
Dangling there - c'est la vie
I think somewhere in Center City
Apart from everything
In an apartment rising skyward
Lingering on the edge of ledge
Standing tall atop a railing raw
Languishing over the 20th Floor
Or there about
And more - c'est la vie
The balcony did its’ best of course
Displaying the fragile curves
Morning sun light danced approval
Around bouncing beams above the surface
But nothing could stop a soft breeze from…
Poof!.....And off it went… c'est la vie
An alert French man
Pastry smile and all
With left handed nimble fingers caressing a Beaujolais 42
The other hand stretched out with stress
As if to field an errant football pass
And in that chance encounter…Catch!...
Tumbling to concrete boundaries down
Bottle released in a wincing crash
Ground favored his mortal urgency
Pottery saved - c'est la vie
French man’s head cracked
Let’s say opened
Something like an egg
A natural death ensued - c'est la vie
A passer-by seized the moment
Lifted vase and fled
Made off down and dirty
Another fate for vase awaits
In a land far away
To dream of ledges - c'est la vie
If so inclined
Or so designed
Modified on 10/21/14 for - c'est la vie - Poetry Contest
This is the tale of Sandy the snail...
Who always wore her hair in a ponytail...
She was different from others and I’m sure you’ll agree...
As her colors were bright neon fluorescent green you see...
She wasn’t content just moving slow...
She wanted to run like a Marathon Pro...
Up early each morning...
When the Sun arose...
She did pushups, pull ups and touched her toes...
Alas... it was then she realized this was futile...
As everyone knows...
If she had feet, she would be more mobile...
I've found through the intrepid individuality of reality of life's lesson and Under-
standing the maker of the moon and star's. That the creator, the maker of the
tree's in the parks, mankind and all-minds, all maintaining of drama and percep-
tion. A journey of a thousand directions of heartless rejection's will never mater
alize had the first step never comprimise! Comprimising to reinvent the word of
the maker of the moon and star's.
O'How I wonder were you are. "Twinkle-twinkle star so high could tonight just
for me?" would you, could you shine so bright that other's could see just for me,
the maker of the wind and the sea. "A Journey to the Promise Land, fill to the manna,
fill to the brim to Understand". That on this journey the maker of tall, short, skinny or
blind, the maker that cause rain to erase the individuality of reality. The nature of sin
flow's through the land of all grain in the sand. (Do you Understand) The maker of the left
hand and the right, just for me(?) would you, could you promise me that there's sim-
plicity that my wild oats shall see. Maker of the moon and star's, "way back-way back
when you first told Moses". The voices of bondage shall you lead, unto a Promise Land
of Milk & Honey flowing with reality, flowing not for the eye's to see, but to talk about
the neccessity of history. Way back when. O"How you prove beyond all degree, the
truth of who is powerful, who is the maker of the wind & sea. "Get Understanding".
(The maker of knowledge and the air we breeze).
With a piggyback of hopes and dreams, I set forth to reach a peak.
Along bed of roses, rocks and tall sharp weeds, I harvested golden grains of progress. The days and nights rang a wake-up kiss on my head. They told me: "Move on, move on...Don't ever give up..."
There are rainy days on the way. A rain shower teased my climb halting me for awhile. Some so strong, I faltered - gained some wounds. Some directly stabbed my heart. And somehow, sometimes they even knocked my very soul. Although tough thunder tremors shook me, I fought hard to stand still continuing my climb.
Each height I step onto, I came to know moon and stars. Some of them began a war with me. Some of them a veil of fraud. But blessing, most have shed a continuing guiding light. Some hugged me. And wanted me to stay but some pushed and pressured me until I am all like a dripping sponge.
The potpourri situations brought me: a ladder closer to our God. His faithfulness and unfailing love a durable adhesive to my persistence and dreams.
A rainbow after each rain drew a promise of sun-kissed days. They melted the cold lonely years away. They permitted me a walk and run to heavenly meadows. Finally, I reached the pinnacle where grins a forever familiar tale.
(c) Olive Eloisa
October 01. 2012
~Death Of Love~ Part 1
The death of adoration is the moment of truth
abundance of caution is needed
when love has no tomorrow
it changes to pain.
In the name of suffering
weight your capacity to hold tight
by not giving up the fight.
Contest for Russel Divey 5 minute
WIN. NO.( 1)
The digital face displays a naughty grin. 5:23am.
Sliding into seat 23C, I double-check my ticket just to make sure:
Seat 23C on Flight 753241698, with a designated lift-off time of 6:08am.
Beside me, chuckles Robert Anton Wilson's spirit:
"See, this is exactly why we appointed you as a Cardinal(the bird?)
in The Church of The 23 Enigma. You are a perfect fit.
Son, this is a destiny you cannot change,
so why not just make the best of it.
The plane might crash, be refurbished or decommissioned,
but the flight itself doesn't ever stop. Ever.
Once you get on, get in, the flight stays on an infinite course.
Thank you for flying with: Synchronicity 23 Airways. Please, enjoy your flight."
Poem about beautiful sunsets and the journey of life.
Spent all day walking on the beautiful powdery white beach. Picking
up oceans treasures, scallop shells calico in colors rich and diverse,
conch, coral, cockel, Sand dollar, sea biscuit, lightning welk, snell shells
of every kind. Ocean breakers emerald crashing and rumbling up onto
the porcelain beach. Wade out let it splash all over me so cooling and
refreshing along with ocean breeze. Splash on the face I lick it off,
exquisitely salty. sand Pipers skiddering along, Pelicans and sea gulls
in the indigo sky catching my eye. Such beautiful things my spirit uplifted.
Sun now kissing the ocean in an explosion of colors. I sit down
to take it all in. Orange, scarlet, green, violet, purple, amber,
gold, emerald, jasper, amathyst, amber, alibaster and every
hue inbetween. A glorious feastfor the eye and mind
to put at ease. Dark now as the golden moon
takes it's Majasties place. What a simply wonderful day.
Giving sigh it's over I could do this forever. Time to go back to my home
in Arkansas. We have beautiful sunsets there as well. Beautiful mountains,
streams, forests, springs, caves, clear lakes await for me to revisit.
The air is clean with a fragrant scent, purple, yellow, orange, lavender,
azure, indigo, cardinal, porcalin, pink and more colors than I can
describe wild flowers frow. Clear blue rivers rush with white roaring
rapids to float, forests of emerald abundant to explore. Mountains
treacherous to scale, Hot springs to sooth and heal both body and
spirit. Diamonds to find, red, champagne, blue, sparkling enchanting
exquisite. Crystals bound in the mines near the healing hot springs,
amythest, garnets, water crystals, rubies and jasper in georgeous
colors crafted into rings, bracelets, pendants, watch bands and so
many more elegant things. I may never get to return to the beloved
beaches again in my life, but I still have all these wonderous things
in My Natural Arkansas. However if I am fortunate enough to return to
the glorious oceans and beaches, I will once again enjoy the treasures,
pleasures, sunsets to behold so bold and vibrant, more wonderful
memories if it comes to pass. one never knows for certain what lays
ahead down lifes path so onward we go and enjoy each blessing
that the Lord has prepared to us to see. Hopefully we will learn on
this journey to love, care for and share with each other.
The displacement camp is overcrowded with a sea of people.
Today another village burns while families are killed.
It’s not safe here for this camp has been attacked.
Where do we flee or where do we hide.
A home would be nice…
A normal meal…
A normal life is just a dream…
Where is the justice.
Why can’t there be peace.
My hope is for my people to be embraced for who they are.
I ask those who hear to light a candle;
A guiding light to help us find our away.
We may never see the light of our hopes and dreams,
But we remember memories of our blessings and gifts.
We are not be part of this world anymore,
But we are thankful for this world in which we live.
May we find peace until we have light for our path…
Edward J Ebbs - 08/27/14
Vegas be Damned!
Vegas took him off the board at 80.
As the cards were dealt each day, passersby
would swear the deck was stacked –
against him. Fate had, for some reason,
chosen him to constantly be in the line
that closed for lunch, watching the bus
he just missed - leave. Youth, street kid,
pin setter in a bowling alley, living at the
kindness of friends parents, eating as the
opportunity presented. 17, enlisted,
good duty, three hots and a cot. Re-enlisted,
war, Korea, PTSD (before it was PTSD).
Discharged, returned to the streets of
his youth – no longer a youth. The drink,
elixir of the damned, damnation of the
scarred, comforter of the comfortless.
Arrests and jail time, flop houses, back
to the streets. Early in his forties, fate’s
dealer broke open a new deck. A chance
meeting, a choice, an unsteady walk,
a door, into a new life. Get well jobs,
dishwasher, grave digger, volunteer.
A 75 dollar car, an apartment of his
own, friends, and fellowship. Another
better job, 30 years later, retirement
at age 75. A birthday party shared with
friends - many half his age of 84. He
still walks the streets of his youth
proudly, thinks of those who, unlike him,
were not as fortunate. Those who succumbed
to the rigors of life, and death, the unseen
wounds that never healed, the hopelessness
of a stacked deck. He laughs a lot, has a
bit of a skip in his step, a wry smile on his
face, an MBTA Charlie Card in his wallet,
and a plan to be a part of this day.
Vegas be damned!
John G. Lawless
for Gautami Phookan – Sketch a Character – Poetry Contest
Life is a journey of countless sub-destinations
It’s in stages and phases
Life is a function of time a subset of different season
Wet, dry, winter, spring, or summer
Each is experience one at a time
Life continues as a journey
When the journey is far
I am empowered to keep moving
When every thing seems locked up and become tiring
I received encouragement never to look down but keep focusing
When the sun is at its peak
I am hopeful there is a shade ahead to hide my head
When it’s stormy, heavily rainy or snowy
I know with an assurance
That the house ahead will take me in
Just in a land of different culture and lingual codes
I feel at home because I have a friend that knows, trusts, and believes in me
He is the reason I’m encouraged and the source of my strength
He is the house and home that take me in
He is my beautiful angel sent from above
I bless the heaven for the friend in you
In my life I often feel I am alone; alone in my thoughts, alone in my musings, alone in my day-to-day movements and unsatisfying activities. I move like a ghost through hallways and down sidewalks, unnoticed and, at times, gratefully so.
I do not wish to be eternally alone. I long for togetherness. But despite this desire for a real connection, I find myself regularly retreating from that temperamental beast that is human interaction.
“Come on now, sweetheart. Don’t lower your head. Don’t look away. Look up! Smile at someone! No! Don’t go back into your bedroom. Don’t lock the door! Why are you doing this?” my brain will plea.
I can’t help myself. Aloneness is comfortable. In being alone, I don’t have to worry about anyone but myself. I don’t have to please anyone else. I can think anything I want, wear anything I want, listen to anything I want, and laugh at anything I want.
And still there remains that nagging desire to be loved and wanted and needed by somebody. I do not know the feeling of being truly desired. I do not know what it is like for someone to crave my company, my smile, my kiss, or my touch.
But I would like to…
I cannot make someone love me or like me or want me in some primal way. It may hurt, but I cannot make that handsome boy want to hold my hand or brush my hair back behind my ear. I can only struggle on. I can only work within myself. I can only try every God damn day to hold my head up, keep my eyes fixed ahead, a give the world the best smile I have. I and I alone can bring myself out of the safety of my bedroom and into the bright world that lies beyond that locked door.
I often find myself alone with nothing more than my thoughts and the ever-strong glow of a computer screen. But no longer will aloneness be the constant in my life. It is true that never having known the caress of a man’s hand on my thigh doesn't make me any less of a woman, but I fear that if I stay confined within myself much longer I will begin to become less of a human. A flower cannot grow if it retracts its leaves and petals every time it feels the warmth of the sun or the kiss of a gentle spring rain.
And I want to grow. I want to grow so tall and blossom so big and beautifully that every place on earth is touched by my shadow at some point in the day. And I will grow. I will push myself and share myself with the world, and finally
know the closeness and comfort of love and honest, unabashed companionship.
Wispy clouds of white
surround me and hold me
tenderly as I float
effortlessly through the sky
on this day of days
filled with sunshine
warm breezes and
the scent of lilacs mixed
with new mown hay
Over streams and valleys
I journey caressing the
tree tops as I pass overhead
finding myself intermingled
with a flock of sparrows
winging their way toward
their favorite roosting grounds
on the valley floor
Suddenly I am drawn into
a rain cloud and its
gentle drops cleanse
my entire being and
leave me to dry in the
warm winds that turn
each droplet of moisture
into a silk like lotion
that softens my skin and
soothes my inner soul
As I draw ever closer
to the rich green grass
below me I feel a peace
enveloping me as if my
journey's end were near
and my life's fears and
all of its sorrows might
end this day never more
I descend slowly like
a feather and nestle
into a thick growth
of grass that seems to
welcome me as the blades
work in unison taking
possession of my body
and with my final movement
and as consciousness fades
I am transformed
Let`s go black in time
Come with me black to history
Black to the mother land
Where we rightfully belong
Black in time before the Europeans
Tried to whitewash our
Skins and minds
Black to the kingdom and ancestry
Black, way black before slavery
Black am I
Not just the color of my skin
The pupil of my eyes or the hair on my head
But black at heart, black in my thinking
And black in my thoughts
Black in time
Black my story, every sentence, every line
Black every rhythm and every rhyme
Black the days on their slave ships
Heading across the ocean lines
Black the shackles and the chains
Black the whips that cut our veins
Black the blood that stained the lands
Black the heart of every whiteman
Black the husbands and the wives
Black the circumstances which changed
Black the mother and the father
Black the separation from each other
Black, black, black, black
Black the struggles and the fights
Black the system which took away
Black the midnights we tried to make
Black the rope on the tree that hung the ones
Who wished to be free
Black, black, black, black
Let`s go black and turn the world around
Let`s take black our civilization
Every continent and every nation
Let`s take black the white man`s dominion
Let`s take black our rightful rulership
No more subjection under
The whiteman`s dictatorship
Let`s black out the pages
of the white man`s days
And attribute the praises
to the black liberal race
Black my eyes and the things they see
Black the visions of those who preceded me
Black Marcus, Selassie and Mandela
Black Obama and the Christ
Black the life I live because of their sacrifice
Looking through a full fridge
And finding nothing worth my while
Not giving a second thought
To the skin and bone children
Drinking from a swamp
With great big smiles
There's nothing good on TV,
We eat at the same place everyday,
And by the way I'm bored out of my mind!
But a scared little boy sees it all
Far away from the comfort of this hypnotic box
He gave his share of scraps to his younger brother
While his entertainment is watching
God paint pictures in the sky
(I racked my brain
Searching for ways I should be upset
Ain't one good reason I could find)
It was yesterday
I found myself and grimaced
It was today I helped out a complete stranger
"How silly of me to think
That was all there was to it...
Nobody's ever just found, we run too frantically
For all that nonsense.
We do the best we can
For as long as we can.
Though selfish beyond belief
I do think there is still hope for me"
I smiled in awe at the discoveries
Tomorrow would bring
I met you in my journey.
Over cups of coffee. Over conversations.
Over laughter. Pure nuisance.
Over smiles. And feeling of freedom.
Pure happiness. And amusement.
Over sadness. And pain.
That you stuck through.
I met you in my journey.
Unexpected. And I loved you.
Over the hours. The minutes.
And the days. Through lonliness.
Through the emptiness. Through the confusion
In your head. Through the feelings
That no one else understood.
I met you in my journey.
Lonely soul I was. Just like you.
Fighting through emotions. A rebel.
Transient like rainbow. Forever, I knew not.
My other self. I found in you.
Through the fleeting nights and days.
That made the best of my life.
I met you in a journey.
Which ended. Long ago
And I look back. And wonder.
If I ever cross your mind. Like you do.
I do not know where you are now. Or how.
If you are happy, loved. But I know
In my memories, we will meet again.
Life on earth is like a large platform where people show the highness or lowness of spirits of their lives. A queue in time bargaining for the much awaited satisfaction in life. Just like in litigation, we all undergone proceedings in order to determine our unalienable rights --from conception to birth--judgment has been made whether to preserve or to abandon a life. Is it the longest day of waiting to be born on this earth? Not until we begin to crawl and cry weakly; run and stumble many times; stutter while trying to express the feelings, and get the needed fostering from parents that we realize all these as part of the stages of life. Is it the longest day of molding life inside the house? Not until we are brought up learning under the doctrine of the school to get further knowledge that we see a brighter future. We struggled hard to academic discussion--from shapes, numbers, reading and into writing, we learned and been guided coherently. Is it the longest day of waiting for commendation? Not until we stepped out from our alma mater and into the challenging workforce that we feel the test of life. We faced many setbacks and blows but determination made us to choose to get on it until we gradually climb into the targeted rank. Is it the longest day of the tiring effort to make a living? Not until we retired from work and have seen the fruits of our effort that we begin to feel good enough. As growing old is inevitable, it is about changes in yourself and life. Eyesight begins to dim and hearing fails, agility has turned into weakness, and health deteriorated until you sigh, “It is time to lay all worries to rest and maneuver myself into an open fluorescent green field.”
For all we know, it is still not the end of waiting until we see our next generation coming into being and deserving to be treated as such.
Noel N. Villarosa
12 February 2013
—the journey of a herd of mustangs in a picture on the wall—
The story begins with two stallions at the water’s edge, facing each other. When one of the stallions irritated, impatiently hits the surface of water with his hoof, the splashes of the water fly all over in the air as if it’s a declaration of merciless war. Then a ghastly fight has begun between two of them. They bite, kick, and wrestle each other in the shallow water to defeat one another. Each time one attacks his opponent, they raise high in the air with hind legs, they shake their gorgeous manes and necks, their muscle quake, and the blood spouts out from their shoulders.
After the long and bloody fight is over and the one who lost in battle draws back, the victor marches in triumph to the herd of mustangs. Nevertheless, the high and intermittent background music and splashing wavelets on the water’s edge scenery introduce the tension and suggest ever-ending darkness to come. They run down the stream while pushing each other as if they were compelled by the fate, which is invisible, or to say that they were driven by some evil but absolute power that is unavoidable. They pass through the deserted field; they swim to cross the rushing stream as if silvery dolphin in the water; they strut through the fog as if they were Pegasus galloping on the cloud; they even dash through the blazing fire like the Phoenix rising from cold ashes. The victor, now, dives into bottomless water before his many followers for a long journey; yet, the destination unknown.
My journey through life has seen so much
far have I traveled and much I have done
seen so many things that most others never do
the rock of Gibraltar, with teems of scary monkeys
traveling out we sailed through the Suez canal
wondrous mysteries that delighted an eight year old
camels striding along, enormous crocs floating by
the land so close you want to touch it and run on it
Zanzibar our next port of call, ram shackled boats galore
the heady scents of spices abounds teasing the nostrils
the vivid different colors everywhere flood my senses
on to our destination Dar-es-Salaam harbor most picturesque
a miss mash of ships some luxury most tramp ships or boats
sails of all colors, dark people unloading trunks from the holds
this was a time taken out of time, a way of life quite relaxed
just think of the things ahead, the adventures that awaited me
contest Your Journey
in 1958 the Suez canal was open later it got blocked by sunk ships
If a fruit's peel scraped, yields its zest,
may my love be the juice of
the most opulent orange?
If so much as a glance can initiate passion,
may I look upon your beauty
and dream of sharing all tomorrows?
If an embrace be a sign of affection,
may I cling to you as a newborn clings
to their Mother?
If tears grant absolution,
may mine be a river, where our souls
float serene, on waters of peace and hope?
If the light from one's eyes be a sign of joy,
then yours are radiant, shimmering stars
in a clear night sky.
If one's touch can convey security,
may I place my hand in yours until
I pass from this life?
If life truly be a journey,
may I take each next step at your side?
As we approached the ice bergs our ship seemed tiny
they towered high above us as we crept into the bay
we could see the Eskimo's and their sleigh's waiting
now we would complete the next few legs with them
Our goal is to reach and set up camp at the North Pole
loading our supplies onto the sleigh's and getting on
soon we were speeding along, the ground very bumpy
clinging on, ducking branches as they whip back and forth
A wonder world of pristine white and hues of various blues
only broken up by the line of trees glinting brightly green
large ravines off to the side, one slip and you would be gone
to a cold icy grave buried forever in this lost icy world of snow
Onwards over the harsh landscape, we need to reach camp
before its dark, to unpack what's needed for overnight stay
light a campfire settle and feed the husky's waiting patiently
cook and eat our food as we share a few beers and some jokes
All too soon its dawn, temperature is -20% we have to break
things free from the ice, before we can eat and pack up
husky's are linked up and ready, what a din they are making
so excited to get going, this is now the final stage before the pole
We fly down barely noticeable trails that twist and wind slurry
left behind us, half a days travel left not too far to go now
some we leave the tree line behind, in front nothing but snow
ice bergs so big you could lose a couple of houses inside them
At last we see the buildings ahead and people pouring out
they will return to their own lands until it is time to relieve us
six months we will be here recording data about weather
and other things, watching polar bears and noting their habits
All this just for some insight and some data that will get buried
as for us well we have the open space, the freezing cold
each other to help past the long nights, day is only 6 hours
18 hours of dark, and fearsome storms that will be our lot
Cut off now until spring returns and the reindeer return
they have wintered far to the south now coming back
they will give birth here on the icy plains of endless snow
and we will return to so called civillization until next year
lead my hand o' dear life
lead my hand
on this land
o' dear life,
until the end
o' dear thought
seed my life
feed me not in strife
bleed me joy from nine to five
lead me a journey of phases
a journey of ages
to face this
germinate in me a corn
a history of possibilities
a record of living to afford
a source to live
for this life
is a choreographer of life
a propeller of existence
an economy of spiritual commodities
a tear drop of opportunities
yet not so many does see its commonalities
an event of anomalies and regularities
lead me a way o' dear life
carry me a sledge on a journey of life
a terrain of survival and life
a gemstone for many
a pentagon of any
a model of penny
an artwork of joy
a string of life on a journey
a script of many
a stanza of any
from: 'journey of life' and 'on a journey',
>> ntema's unique poetry (nup)
Dark night of my soul
Where fear and pain reside,
As rulers on their throne,
What courage cannot muster
To fight this battle within
And overcome its hold.
I seek to find resolve
To enter and seek a way to find
A way to remove its hold
In the dark night of my soul
And morning joy I seek
When it’s time does peak.
Dark nigh its lessons bring
If I seek to find them,
While morning waits to come.
The heart above all things, most fragile,
bears all things.
So easily wounded when past scars beckon;
of life’s journey past,
awaiting to be healed,
forgiveness to be sealed.
Forgiveness must allow
the healing that I wish.
For the heart above all things, most fragile;
bears all things where love abides,
when healing does reside.
Today, an opportunity not to miss
the healing that I wish.
So, ABBA, forgiveness I release
so healing will replace,
and love most precious will abide
when forgiveness does reside.
When I was a kid, i believed that I would never stop growing. I measured myself, and knew that everything taller was a glimpse of the future.
We would all be giants eventually. The tallest man that ever lived was named Robert Wadlow. He couldn't stop growing. On his first day of school,
he was taller than his father. They say, that when he tripped on the playground his knees made twin craters from falling so far. By the time he was 10, the dirt in his home town was pot-marked like a second moon.
Size always seems to matter most when we are falling. An ant dropped from an airplane will survive with no injuries, if an elephant slips 3 feet,
it's legs will snap beneath it, and or us, it is those dreams that we remember most. The ones where the harness breaks.
Where you step from the roof of a building without knowing why. When a plane rushes back toward the earth like a lost lover. We always wait just before impact, unsure of shattering or survival,
and unable to accept our own size.
Maybe this is why we hunt the large animals to extinction; To make ourselves seem greater. In the end, the victory of the atom bomb was not in the arms raised, but it's ability to topple all of the smallest creatures. We dream of surviving as mountains; of never having to look up again.
We long for longer conquests.
The ship vaster than the ocean.
The fire dwarfing the fuel. We expand. We expand,.
Weapons add more than just inches to your arm span. When you fire a gun, you can touch someone a thousand of feet away just think of all the giants our wars have already created. Cemeteries are like an infinity of white cross hairs. Mass graves that are just twisting of what we have always wanted; A mountain built from our bodies. We expand, we expand,.
Our empires, stretching like red lips opening into the widest sssmile, and then swallowing the face whole. We build our largest statues for our war heroes, greater your conquest, the taller we will make you. We are taller than our fathers now. We cannot stop growing. Robert Wadlow did not want to be a legend. He wanted to train as a lawyer, but his hands were to large to
write and type with. He died at age 22, half an inch short of 9 feet from an infection he never felt, because his nerves could not transmit signals that far. So stop trying to be statues.
Feel the signals your feet send back to you and say "It is good to feel this close". It is good to live in our own bodies. Our bodies are whispers. Are bodies are matchsticks in the dark that light the small parts of us; The parts of us that can accomplish impossible things.
Haven’t they seen where time stands still and the sun kisses the morning sky
Running free from the break of day, laughter echoing for miles
Oh yes, it was easier then, when we were only 10
Spirit alive with tomorrows promise and innocence
Watching sunsets disappear and then soon came the years
Innocence, memories from an easier time
Beauty fades, but not for you, I can see through
The soul never weathered and aged like your skin
Spirit worn from facing each day without hope
The soul renewed, found peace, stayed true
Honesty is living life through your soul.
Life is more than meets the eye.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
And eyes are the gateway to the soul.
Souls which have no color decend unharmed
Reality unmasked, the soul of compassion and forgiveness
Teach the young that they possess a power
To love each other past our cover.
When time is gone, the soul remains as the body decays
Before the end, slow down, enjoy the still
Give your soul to another who truly sees you
Taking only what you need to see truth
Be still and listen to what remains unspoken
Beating drums mark his last march and fifes play lowly, a breeze blows on blackthorn blossoms,
Raised high above on hardened shoulders for the mourning march, that slowly glides him along,
A hero, a name carved in precious polished stone, this is his last the most important journey,
The drums roll, bearers sway quietly with each step, a fife plays sadly bringing burning tears.
Winter, its hard wrinkled face and rough horny hands froze men to death stuck in no mans land,
It has no friends in this evil hated war and happily takes wounded men, a trophy to its might,
Thick mud is sometimes frozen and is like granite as the brave settle waiting for the whistle,
Some died with honour, their bravery hard to understand, bearers proudly shoulder such a man.
The parade stops at a grave, they lay their comrade down on planks of wood covering the hole,
The innocence of sweet youth taken away, living with bitter hating men, fear drives them on,
This boy was different he believed in the cause and he died for that sacred belief, honour,
The drum roll stops and a bugle plays the last post, men with their head bowed pray for help.
At home all are working in their gardens, a father mows grass, turning earth fresh and mellow,
Young flowers spring up in his boarders they have a delicate, poetic beauty a snow drop grows,
His boy, in fields far away, just as delicate as these new flowers when he took the shilling,
A father stops, can he hear the drums slowly and fifes playing lowly as his boy is lowered down.
Touching to sea essence with their noses
Old men by the seashore
Sails up flags waving goodbye
Don Coto's Face brown and wrinkled
Smiles from ear to ear
Prepares for the voyage to gather bounty
From the land the sea to see
The coconut trees
Leaves rubbing against each other
Waiting for their daily drinks to arrive
The sun plays peekaboo
With the rolling clouds of white and blue
Man loading their Cargo
Their wives saddened
Josélito Negrita and Tony
Chasing down fiddlers
by the mangroves
Oblivious they are
Life is just fun and games
Atop the hill
The river flows endlessly
Mi madre Maria tomasa
Is at the river bed
Andre the fiery
She's beautiful, radiant black hair green eyes
Strong yet loving she was
I miss her my family mi familia
My people mi gente
My culture mi cultura
Mi India Borincana
With your music of love
Life and lore
I will never forget you
Dreams never die
Although years may pass
I'll shall return
Just like my
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A Camacho jr.
There it is
Lingering in all my fears
A melancholy of things unknown
I feel it ever so close
Dancing on the brim of reality
So close but never far enough
Nestled deep In my thoughts
Whispering softly it calls my name
We both dance gracefully
Our paths never intersecting
If only I could ride upon the back of a dragonfly~
O', what journey I would behold...
I receive the wind's forced breath against my face-and revel in my locks rolling in the vibrant
We hover just above a splash of rainbow painted flowers,
that kiss my toes with open petals of joy.
The scent so pure,
shall decorate my skin forevermore.
We crest high into the ocean tinted sky.
Humbly greet birds which share in our gift,
and delight us in symphonies of angelic praise.
I close my eyes for a startled moment,
as we dance through a vineyard of bumble bees-
"Buzz,Buzz," They caution sternly to us, their unexpected visitors.
A smile imposes my lips at the thought of their disrupted task;
Only to pass them, look over my shoulder and witness their purpose resume within natural
A shimmering mirror of water now lies underfoot.
I feel the warmth of the sun's reflection cast up under our joined form.
"Faster, faster!" I command my fairy-friend.
As I lay down flat and wrap my limbs snugly around to secure myself, our speed begins to
With quick, steady, pace, we descend onto the water's surface.
Skips and twists- twirl into a tango of splashes,
which shower my face with each perfectly intentional bounce.
The tickle rises up from deep in my belly,
I laugh, a laugh full of true obliviation.
Dragonfly now lifts, higher and higher we go-
As I glide upon heavenly stilled wings.
We drift within utopian clouds,
they pass before our sights like vapored curtains before a theater of whimsy, unveiling a
The presented gift, is that of majestic mountain tops that promise the scent of sweetly
This aroma leaves me breathless.
The aroma evokes childhood visions of wishing stars,
and kisses goodnight.
I inhale the memory for a moment longer,
cherishing the scent before I must once again grow older.
My friend I have been blessed to dance in the breeze with,
slows to a transcending idol.
We encircling the center of a noble rose.
We descend gently into the heart of the queen of flowers,
and land on her royal stage.
I delicately climb down, lay upon her silk;
and closed my eyes to dream.
Dreams which have atlas' transpired to become,
my long awaited reality.
If only I could ride upon the back of a dragonfly~
O', what journey I would behold...
Out of the fire,
The flames burn strong,
And sear my soul.
My heart grows faint,
The intolerable pain,
Yea, though I walk through the valley
Of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
I will fear no evil in the flames,
To cleanse my soul;
To release the Light
In the dark night
of my soul.
In the fire,
Love brings forth life
Out of pain;
My heart cleansed
Shall I endure
For lessons to be learned
And freedom to obtain?
Shall I wait upon the Lord
To be set free?
Will I persevere?
The Warrior rises up;
For victory is sought.
Out of fire
New life grows.
The journey long
And narrow is the way.
The day becomes night
My heart weary
Champion of my soul
For victory to claim.
Out of the fire
New life grows
Giving rise to hope.