i would sink if the moon left these shores! picture of myself, bright floods! seeking shadowed roads. Of yellow and green cellophane hearts --into the willows of an old courtyard.
O my dying quiet hearts of arts and words of black dog, brown shepherd hungry for masters -- bitter peaches upon the ground : while sulfur and evil drown in shallow swims.
Oh but Lord! through amaranths and Saharan blues as fire and creepers seep through the widow's cage! i walked Guianan without shoes and flew through the ducal window on such a moonlight as the blessed bindweed. Across ages of time and hordes cross our aged Europe.
Every soul crosses the moors -- all warriors!
:: 08.31.2020 ::
Categories:
amaranths, faith, poetry, prayer, world,
Form: Free verse
It comes to me dreaming
of rebirth trice with mirth;
enlightening of light
shimmering more brightly.
A breath, filled with flowers:
radiant and lovely
peppermint amaryllis,
blush amaranths, bluebells,
lavender bellflowers
and a plethora of weeds.
A storm rose swarm with life
to forge passion, desire
and sensuality
burning more intensely
contained deep in my soul.
I gather up my words,
plunge in lull suffering
with emotions and scatter
on a page; pirouette
letters to form feelings
to feel my soul-heart
of rebirth trice with mirth.
5/19/2018
Poetry Contest: 'Let Your Pen Drip
Sponsored By : Broken Wings
4. I gather up my words
plunge - suffering - rose - soul
Categories:
amaranths, poetry, writing,
Form: Free verse
As if pain could no longer hurt,
she sings of love embezzled by loveless men.
As if with a drought in her eyes,
she echoes a memory of tears.
As if melancholy were an old friend,
she confides dreams unrepentant.
Her voice, scarred by sighs
and the consolation of narcotics’ embrace,
wavers and cracks when she sings,
and the cracks are fault lines,
sending forth shudders of
rapture and fracture, illusion and disillusion,
in an ecstasy of heartache that
rends the air and desolates the night
long after the song is done.
But across her voice also stretches an indigo sky
in which the stars are not stars,
but embers hung up high,
beyond the reach of the
highest tides of disenchantment,
ever wistful with a last glimmer of hope.
As if the only thing that could still surprise her
were, at long last, happiness,
as if life couldn’t fool her again with its
false promise of amaranths,
she serenades the heart’s vagaries,
and offers up a cluster of weary smiles in
a sad song blithely sung.
- inspired by Billie Holiday
Categories:
amaranths, appreciation, beautiful, heartbreak, longing,
Form: Free verse
Well and your love is like a warm summers rain to my soul
making the amaranths of hope and dreams grow.
Oh and the emotion is as colorful as a neon rainbow
my love for you is not a secret anymore. It's like a
butterfly that pleases where ever it goes!
Oh and the fountains of true blessings run deep
Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall in this Garden
without gates or walls. It’s almost like a dream except
it is real and it is just exactly as love should feel!
Well this Garden Of Love must be a place created
by none other than God up above!
The dream was the seed before you came along and
watered it just enough with your sweet magic touch
now it is a beautiful, beautiful sacred
Garden Of Love!
Categories:
amaranths, garden, love, summer,
Form: Free verse
The white marble tower you once called home is
Charred at the base from years of lightning,
Charred from years of passion.
Remember the amaranths,
Growing like wildflowers
Beneath the windows?
They died in the shadows.
Your absence has burned its way
Into the air. So little remains.
But rejoice,
As much as I can call this place home,
You can always come to me here,
In this white marble tower I call home.
But beware,
Since you ran from this place
It has become truly mine.
Remember the antique armchair
You longed to own?
It decayed after years of watching the hills from the attic,
Searching for you to reclaim your humble throne.
But rejoice,
You can always return to me here,
In the white marble tower I call home.
Rise and walk skeletal from your grave
And you will find me rotting here,
Devoid of pity, devoid of compassion,
Devoid of everything that gives life flavor.
Categories:
amaranths, loss, lost loveme, me,
Form: I do not know?