Beads Poems

Root Of All Evil

Isn't it funny how people see money
pieces of metal so very small
there's not a lot you can do
with a penny or two
money itself has really no uses at all
it used to be beads and once it was shells
at least you could wear them and buy or sell
how many have a dim view of money
pieces of

Hiku: souk, smoke and prayer beads

souk cloaked in perfume—
   s m o k e sways through the hanging
                b                        

AGATE BEADS OF HAPPINESS

AGATE BEADS OF HAPPINESS

The tears have dried up
The lines have lost their rhyme
The taste of life is slipping away
But I'm still looking for you

I wake up at night
I call you without words
I beg you, just a little,
Be brave, don't be afraid to try 

You'll feel my piercing rays 
I'm running through new and unbroken lines,
of

Through the galleries of dreaming, where evening strings its somber beads

Through the galleries of dreaming, where evening strings its somber beads,
The echo of a twilight stifles discreetly on the plain bound for eternal crossing;
Floating, floating over the velvet of darkness seeking its release.
Diaphanous sages, adorned with the silver of silence,
For their words have not shaken the profound realm with arrows of stars, they
Do not willingly

Through the galleries of dreaming, where evening beads its somber pearls

Through the galleries of dreaming, where evening beads its somber pearls,
An echo of twilight suffocates discreetly across the plain towards eternal passing;
It floats, it floats over the velvet blackness seeking escape.
Ethereal sages, adorned with the silver of silence,
For their words did not shake the profound realm with comet darts, they
Reluctantly cast their shadow towards the

Hanging Beads

What is so special about these hanging beads…dance partners with the trees…
dangling from our porch..swaying in the breeze?

Is it the way they frame the view…how they’re pleasing to the eye
how they illuminate the clouds or how they add beauty to the sky.

Is it how when the sun’s hits them just right in the twilight or

Bradly Spills His Beads

He had a sneaky tongue,
it bent around his molars
like a serpentine noodle.
His Adams apple
was an ever-shifting abacus
that calculated words
as if they were untethered beads.
Mathematics were his
clinical persuasion,
a laudable science
he hammered
into a sterile
impregnable language
for bespectacled cyborgs,
for he (the Bradly),
daily taught snotty tykes
who ponged of sticky,
childish proclivities.
Some teach, some
kill the ozone of eager minds.
We kids and Mr.

Iridescent Beads of Dew

iridescent beads of dew
loving the way of you today
magnified by my appreciative mind
I imagine being inside one of your glorious drops
urging the grass to shoot up

Star Prism Box of Artisan Beads

Bits of what we had
Became unstrung, life then spun
Out of my control.
Then saw goodness of your soul...
Sadly cannot find them all.

Beads

A little optimism
A little altruism
A little care for plants,
Birds, animals and frail ants
A little friendliness with the neighbor 
Who, like us, for existence labor
A little smile at the cosmos and universe
Within which each being does immerse
These, indeed, are beads that mold each creature
And unite them, eternally, with the Mother Nature… 



16 October 2022

Beads That Heaven Dropped

The clouds forming
Beautiful shapes of love
In the blooming farms
Diamonds of rain drops
The better half of bright skies.
Phoenix of the dry marines.

The heaven crying ecstatically
Through the curtains of cloud
The shiny sober droplets of tears
Hushing the chaotic rays of sunshine
Embodying a loud rainbow of resurgence.

The sky is trickling
Crystal clear balls of adam's ale
Wetting the glossy tresses of

Blessing Beads

Blessing Beads

      Once more around the park please
      Once more, just so i can see

The Indian child has finally found her way
By showing the world of her Indian days
The times when her life was carefree and fun
And those that were chasing she could always out

Bones and Beads

There's a wicker bin in a blue flame corner.
Overflowing onto rooftops of broken homes.
Empty hospital beds - the echoes from bomb craters.
Into war zones and shrunken veins of hopelessness...

A billion words in the bin-wrapped in burlap ribbons. 
Sewn into the satin fabric of faith.
Pulsing with heartfelt wishes.
Rosary beads ground into fingerprint whispers.
Filling with tears and

Beads and Bugs

This plague is real-for sure
where it came from
(CHINA)-is undeniable...
but was the little devil
birthed by a bigger devil
did it slip away from a Wuhan lab
or explode from a wet market bat...

truth is a rose-
evil is a stink bug
and something sure stinks and we know it

The undercurrent is that
trillions are being made off global misery
so there's no

In Mother Moon's Armoire

* * ° * * 

           In
        Mother
   Moon's armoire

  hang star-gilded 
   gowns of indigo
   silk, heady with
       cedar and

    

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