immutable muse
as the mourning
sky w e e p s
and crimson clouds crackle
bursting forth
blazing bristles
resembling roaring rage
within bruised blades
of
lamented leaves
fed to the aching soul
of Mother Nature
my heart quivers~
wishing love could bloom
an opalescent dream
across the grief-struck spheres
where storms
crash upon selfless seas
awaiting tender lips of tulips
from seraphic streaks
sleepless amidst the
trembling zephyr
while h o p e
floats like
mists of velvety vapor...
if only I could
be the immutable muse
moon-drop maiden
amidst deepest sorrows
of dahlia dusks
and fluorescent flares
of delicate dawns ~
if only I could
be the sanguine song in
the hyacinth heart
of mellifluous moonlight...
if only there were no
pain nor angst
perhaps then
metaphors of misery
would be forsaken
poetry would thrive ~
rhymes of love would
be the rosemary rhythm...
cathartically cradling
turbulent twilight
like fireflies flickering
neon gold
against the
electric pulse
of midnight...
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