Dark hair and eyes holding beryl dust;
Faith, luck, and in the Fey we trust.
The warm, bubbling, thrills of my cherished first date
So innocent, so sparkling soft, is the kind hand of fate
Up at dawn to caress, my new shoes of patent leather
My feet felt no floor, for I was a teen angel with feathers.
My feathers took flight that first precious date night
It truly turned out to be love at first sight
Still, after years of angelic married bliss
I recall magic moments of our first kiss.
In the very bottom drawer of my golden vanity
An etched crystal box, sparkles as the sea
Petals of a rose corsage, worn on a once teen wrist
Scents, that make my cheeks, a gloriouus
amethyst.
Love for you is pure as the day it was born
Though my feathers have become tattered and worn.
At sound of your voice my heart accelerates
It takes me back to that fantastic first date.
The hunk of beryl did not look like much.
“It eventually turns into emerald,” the shopkeeper said.
Still unimpressed, I kept hunting for fluorite.
I have bought more fluorite than most gem collectors.
Greed allowed me to pay forty dollars for the ugly piece of beryl.
It was gray-tannish in color, elongated, with a touch of green at its tip.
“How soon will it turn into emerald?” I asked, before leaving.
“Millions of years,” the shopkeeper told me.
It is rare that I feel cheated before I leave a store.
This was one of those times.
My auntie her first name is Beryl
Put other road users in peril
She mounted the sidewalk
The pedestrians squawk
and report her to Sherriff Merrill
The Sherriff puts her under arrest
as Beryl says she tried her best
But before Beryl kills
With her dire driving skills
He insisted she retakes her test
The examiner discovered that
Aunt Beryl is as blind as a bat
So it made perfect sense
To decline her licence
I’m as pleased as a Cheshire cat!
08/10/21
name of precious gem
crossing Atlantic Ocean
unknowing effects
Beryl Cook.
Painted faces of sheer delight
Others full of horror and fright
Ladies night with sexual tones
Anticipating moans and groans
Lady with a glass of wine looks happy
Admiring the lingerie looking snappy
Beryl Cooks paint brush has no fear
Colours and strokes are definitely clear
Brings out the delight in her work for all to see
Bright colours held in lovers fantasy
Makes you feel you should join the fun
"The Lingerie Party" bet you'd buy some
Beryl, a beach girl of some girth,
Was paddling for all she was worth,
Her face looked so stark
Being chased by a shark,
As she battled to get out of the surf.
Satin tongues to rolling words
unthought yet by the masses be
to turn to brine long molded thoughts
and break up synapse strings to see
Spoke in bubbles on the air
to drift, to drift to breathing skies
to sink, to sink to beryl seas
and while we swim, to burn our eyes
Taken home we glass encase them
folded up in sea oat strands
Hoping to forget the context
scrub the salt and wash our hands
Tongues ignite our conscience still
to sink, to sink our breathing heart
to drift, to drift in beryl dreams
and so we tear ourselves apart.