Best Now Is The Hour Poems

An ember sparked will softly glow,
and fed by fuel, will grow and grow.
I once was cinder, sparked by you,
first timid. . . till the flames...

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When the crimson rose has faded
And our day at last is done;
In the forest dark and shaded
Blows the tempest, dims the sun.
When the night holds...

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(PoetrySoup Format)


Predictable, practical pose
as a simple sentence suggests,
accepting how the story goes,
while syllables shape silhouettes.

~ Simple scribbles serenade me ~

Paragraphs, hold poise and power
while illuminating...

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Softly and sadly
Up on the knoll;
The vesper bell
Begins to toll.

Lock all the doors
Blow out the light;
The hour is late
Sleep comes with the night.

Close all the...

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Soft autumn rain ...
cascading over brightly colored cherry blossoms,
releasing a sweet scent of aromatic aphrodisiac
A fragrance of springtime love blowing in the gentle autumn wind

Our...

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O albatross guide my loosed soul  
from the shipwreck seized by sandy shoal

persuasive Polar Star in quiet pull
a sailor’s tired eyes gone dark 
I...

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The worldliness within the sphere     
reflecting morning light, 
as poignant as a single tear 
idea bright is crystal clear 
and frames...

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Grace-full is the lily born of virtue’s milk 
Inspiring me with petals pure in my hour of need -
Vow and vim of passion vivid and...

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In A Sad Blindness, One May Yet Find Hope
           (The Solemn Prayer)

Raining splashing, fierce winds...

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https://youtu.be/-gDinVAmtA0



 Chopin Nocturnes

Listen....autumn rain is gently falling
Within enchanted hour of twilight sky.
In my heart, Chopin is softly calling
Lovely piano notes that make me cry.
As Luna...

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I am the wind

You cannot see me but you can feel me

Breezing gently through your hair

Brushing slightly across your cheek

Whispering softly 'neath your ear

I am...

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She wept as they buried her one true love.
Each day thereafter she brought him a rose,
the flower she knew he was fondest of.
Her grief unbearable,...

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There's a chilly air where it used to shine
There's a misty breeze through the purple vine.

In a fading summer tick-tock sounds
 move backwards marking every...

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The sun was rising high in the east over the town of Milton creek
It was the eighteenth day of December, the start of Christmas week
All...

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In glamor-light of sunset
a new crowd of cumulus clouds arrive
and revive a sepia sky-scene—
unworldly woolgatherers gather
spinning fantasy fluff into quixotic yarns
of debutantes dancing with honeymoon...

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