Born then drawn on your birth certificate
A full legal name and identity.
Some simple, short or long and intricate
It follows us always and plain to see.
We learn early on how to write our name
In simple letters or cursive styling
Our name travels with us as plain or vain
Through academia, records, filings.
What of streets, buildings or on monuments
Or long-faded through time and forgotten?
In directories high, like parliaments
Or lineage with children begotten?
In the end, but one written name alights
Is it written in the Lamb's Book of Life?
A cold November wind blows through the leaves
that chills the mighty oak trees to their bark;
and in the shiver that the wind-wave weaves,
a single leaf’s left swirling in the dark.
Upon the ground this crimson leaf alights
among the other leaves that settled down;
all fallen from their limbs of lofty heights,
and slowly does their beauty turn to brown.
While once she thrived in youth upon her branch,
she now knows sadly that her days are spent.
And grieving for this leaf’s now faded chance,
this aging poet too must give assent.
Whereas the forest and the world consort,
both leaves and poet’s lives are measured short.
On seashore's realm a fragrant rose in bloom.
A surfer with her board observes the rock
along the shore where butterflies repose.
Butterfly clothed in hues of spring alights.
On scented breeze he lightly settles down
and holds a pose of grace and elegance.
As the surfer gently tiptoes in to see
the butterfly responds in movement, too.
His wings they open up and close for her.
By this she takes his gesture as sincere.
She smiles and soon believes her heart is sure.
She's found a lovely butterfly to love.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
frost-kissed arch alights~
January's brittle breath
holds seven hues tight.
like a place in a dream,
Woodstock revisited.
Days of peace, love, music, meaning.
As close as one's own heartbeat,
more remote than the mountains of the moon.
Rain dance, rainfall
alights more gently than a whisper,
Louder than the thunder:
Mud city/
Barefoot Nation/
state of Mind
--- sound of one hand clapping ---
state of grace
No ledger tracks love
no parchment records heartfelt—
love flows to and fro
coming inward with the tide
owing nothing in return
Love is not a trade—
no mirrored debt to redress
no score kept in trust
It is pure, restless motion
free flowing to intersect
Gifts offered, received
as starlight falls without claim
as sun warms the field
love bears neither weight nor score—
It alights as a feather
She looks through the lens,
a Baltimore Oriole
has just flared into orange sherbet,
her wide-eyed grin shines even brighter.
The bird alights on a branch just above us
blooms again in a sunburst of colors.
My mind is a fizz of euphoria.
I even bless Baltimore, for being
that golden city in the clouds
that I always thought it was.
When tint of duskfall weaves through a cloud
I spill lacquered paint on bays, ashore
my gold-red shades draping sand. Endowed
with citrine flame of sky , I soar:
Call me ambrosia too. Just outside,
nectar drips from marmalade nights
honey and cantaloupe bless my glide--
O I'm there...when slice of dawn alights !
your smile entranced me
as a spontaneous moment alights
to a rapport on first sight
in our daily stroll,our
words became a promise
embedded in our hearts-
mouths join,impassioned
soft sensuous lips,seek
in whispered words of love
my need of you
Ten lines Ten poems mostly
from American Cinquain Collection/&Arrested moments/
&Grounding in love
My omnipresent spirit observes man's zonal realms
In star-studded cast of aureoles...a diverse culture in motion,
Which alights into Borealis songs, their haunting lore, their generational rites
And through sacred Mystery , I connect with their melting pot of eras
Designed by one Galactic handiwork-- moons, stars
planets circling around Milky Way, ever vibrant...
And my light pulses with them, my light pulses.
Then to bestow a natural pace of night and day,
Season upon season, I see myself as one
With creation reaching ---out for God's grace. And through centuries before
Genesis,
I continue whispering to human souls their temporal existence on earth,
earth , only a bridge into eternal energy
Where peace erases all rancor
and greed sown by primitive and urban
desires which poison the grid of unity...
And I shall will my invisible wings to
tap divine power
among men likened to holy ascension
into one paradise where
peace breathes
of nothing but hallowed order.
As it is so, so it will be –
The bird takes wing, the bumblebee
Seeks out the blooming flower
With all its bumbling power,
Alights and gathers, then departs –
The bee, the bird are worlds apart
From me, they know me not
And yet I love them for their art
And hold them dear within my heart –
They are the wings on which I fly
The bee, the bird, the butterfly –
They soar beyond my wishful eye –
I feel their world, I know not why
But what they see I cannot see
– As it is so, so it will be
For Miranda Hawley's Dance Of...Contest
Cleared from mistakes past ,he greets love reclaimed
His ardor fierce as dreams untethered swing.
Moments of anger, jealousy now tamed:
Again, night's rhapsodies begin to
sing.
His woman alights, dressed in bridal
lace...
Her lover honoring a misty glance
Petal- kissed within their own world's
embrace
Where flamed waltz glides...on dips of shadow- dance.
And male fingers cascade down through her
waist
Bronzed hands tracing her every hourglass curve,
Enamored by swaggers of season's wait;
No other movement , their footsteps could swerve.
It would take whirls of lifetime to explain
This unrehearsed dance beneath moonlit rain.
She gazes past the golden fields
beyond the wheat that summer yields
above the solitary oak, so still
where a lazy hawk, with circles fill.
He feels the drifts in windswept skies
her soul goes drifting, by and by
she’s carried from her lonely bed
to fly away, no fear or dread.
And when the moon at night alights
her hopeful eyes, with tears delight
she looks beyond the stars above
and feels the wonder of God’s love.
In the frigid silence of glacial eve, penguins gather tight.
Emperors, waddling half in black, under half-lit southern night.
One dreams of flight, yet stays on course; with colony alights.
Where bold breezes blow a wondrous world awakes,
they swaddle silken scenes that surround so many,
fresh air is an awesome advantageous aspect all told,
it inspires instantly without waver whatsoever,
empowered energetic edge to species human,
and amazing animals as one might often observe,
inhale invigorating images imbued that tantalise the rapt rambler,
magic meadow mindfulness gets a great gee up,
from well-found winds which waft,
woo and weave surreal semblance sumptuous,
when poets pause perhaps divine delightful dizains descend,
iridescence infinite inkling as angel aura atmospheres alights,
gust of golden genesis glad guest most warmly welcome,
shell strewn sea shore surface swept,
kaleidoscopic knots kindle conduits creative channel,
bard on boundless beach befitting benefit,
oodles of ornate overarch saline squall sequesters,
petrichor’s proboscis pleasure pick up post downpour,
quixotic quintessential quest quenched by fabulous fairytale flurry,
daylight dazzle’s deft dip driven by draught
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