I came across
lost seedlings--misfits
abandoned in
a musty bin of a garage.
Then heard
a meek mist pleading,
"oh, fern soil, praise them
with your yard."
"Douse kaleidoscope,
cool droplets,
those days scorched--
furnace dark."
"Thus clover-cove
when frigid snow
abrades
their glinting spark."
The cascading contours of the verdant mountain slope
hold me, an upstanding cone of jade coniferous pine,
gilded in gold soaked from the swathe of snow,
turned to mirror flakes by the sun of dawn.
Cinnabar glaze I get from crimson cloud passing
through the twilight gleam to the fiery horizon’s fold.
As the polar wind lancet abrades the frozen topography,
my senses shiver in the winter chill on the tips of needles.
The shroud of silence falls with the drizzle of still night,
the cerulean stardust shines on my silken visage,
shimmering in my dream to slice the misty air,
and soar in the satin sky to touch the stars.
The reverie comes true some other time,
when in festival of joy to a far-off place I go
as the Christmas tree crowned by sapphire stars.
My desire to be with stars is fulfilled in Christmas time
A scrapbook of soil
knits the land.
Earthworms patchwork
hidden birthing-chambers,
grit and gist abrades
into the leached sap
of leaf and grass.
Rain storms push up
an upholstery of luster,
mossy threads.
above tufted beds.
Frail daisy heads nod,
yet their roots grip and twist
as fibrous as hemp.
The turning lathe of a tireless wind
crumbles iron cities,
towers and arcades
stand emerald cast,
walls chained to creepers,
and a choking ivy.
Topsoil sinks to be
the undercroft of graveyards.
All is begun, all is lost
in the long gestations
of death and recovery.
Tempering's spun
beneath a settling moonlight.
Let my mind traverse
round the universe
to find this life's essence
Let it cross the stunning falls
whose attitude never falls,
that abrades the mountain walls.
Let it discretely stand,
on the desert's sand
and inhale its strength grand
Let it flow along with river
the all time giver,
that jubilantly delivers.
Let it mingle with the sea,
the eternal splendor to see
let it glide along and get freed...
HOPE, THE PAINT MOVER
The patterned palette clasping the melted rainbow
doesn’t take time to dry as streaks of colored bone
if the amateur painter waits long and doesn’t know
how to choose the colors fast and select their tone.
The blank canvas waiting silent on the slanting easel,
the unpainted bare face wrinkles in creeping wet air
if the unsure moody painter hesitates awhile to tell
the dormant imagination to make the motif in color.
The hued palette, the waiting canvas and the painter
turn into a useless unlinked trio in the pursuit of art
if they can’t find for their purpose prime paint mover,
the camel haired innocuous painting brush to start.
The brush comes alive in the painter’s nimble fingers,
paints from the pliant palette with ardor it captures.
The face of charming canvas glows in collage of colors,
in surreal art form the nebulous imagination appears.
When winds of stormy time abrades life’s canvas bare
how long the painted rainbow will last you’ve no clue.
If all the colors start to melt in the torrents of despair
in color of future dip the mind’s brush hope gives you.
October 9, 2018
Faulted earth quakes, level land breaks
Serene sea swells, tearing tsunami strikes
Devastation a devil descends unpredicted to devour.
Tough times tremble, shaking sky raids
Hibernating hopes break, awful agony abrades
Disaster a distress destroys unabated the lives dire.
September 1, 2017.
It’s hard again
And the loneliness
Abrades the skin and soul
I am yours
With assurance I am whole
But not today
The saints seem
All so far away
And claiming victory
Even in the smallest things
While I doubt much
And fear the strokes
That chastening brings.
But Father this is just
Denial of your love
You feel and touch
And timely send your
Rescue from above
Mine to wait and watch
And speak those words
Of timeless writ
Til I see the joy of it.
Water fulfills life
Nourishes soils,fills reservoirs -
Only abrades fences.
Men came with their ship.
Armstrong on the moon.
Dust stirred in a sigh.
Rising it covered
the false skin of man.
Sharp, angular
cold dust abrades
charged and clinging
like gunpowder
deal killer
magnetic
lunar dust
hazard
warning
moon
Dust
asset
wonder
arrival
man on moon
colonies
life expanding
a gateway orb
platform to stars
microwaved glass
Moon dust the dream ash
a hydrogen source
an oxygen source
the remnants of stars
histories first scent
Rainfall washing
Light splashes on windowpane…
Leaving nothing behind
No pattern or trace…
If only those tears
Anguishly wept for you…
Upon your deathbed
Had washed away…
Cleansing the pain
That even now abrades my spirit…
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