Ah ! Seven Sisters Wild
let your blueness flow in tides
for hot bread and blankets red cosy
loosen grids to free muddled minds rosy
so all may smell
nasturtiums tangling moist moss bells
Ah ! Seven Sisters Wild
slip here in solitary hours mild
to turn dial in cold of night
tuning to forgotten memories
of secret airy flights
where you taught mysteries
which I now remember as histories
Ah ! Seven Sisters Wild
are you chanting or baking chide
or decorating star garden walls
awaiting awakening calls
the dark silences of your eyes
embracing arums
we arise
I y e a r n for H O M E
~~~~~~~~~
I love the smell of dew on the grass, when a new day has just begun. I love to watch the flowers as they turn their heads towards the Sun.
I love to hear the gentle whispers of the welcoming breeze.
I love to watch as it rustles through, the leaves upon the trees.
I love to watch the Angelic rays from the sun as they pierce through the branches of a tree. Creating a kaleidoscope of pretty shapes on the undergrowth for all to see.
I love to watch the clouds as they gracefully float on by, like fluffy balls of candyfloss complementing the blueness of the sky.
I love to hear the intenseness of the thunder, as it rumbles way up high. And the flashing from the lightening's rage, as it fork's across the sky.
I love to listen to the heavy rain as it bounces of the ground.
A harmonious, symphony of notes, with its own unique sound.
I love it when a rainbow grace our sky after the poring rain .
A masterpiece of pretty colours, cupping the earth in its domain.
There is beauty all around for those with eyes to see. Nature is magical, it is captivating, it is abundant and it is free.
Life is a starburst gift
conceived in the gilded soil of angel hearts.
Living on the other hand thrives in the salty eyes of swells and troughs
needles woven into bike bells and ice cream cones.
Living breathes to bend you into and out of its will
from valley to mountain to the misty hills
it bends you into things you could never dream about..
into the storm of eternity
into the tidepool of a stillness beyond stillness.
It speeds up into a crimson tangle and slows down into thick blueness
swells and troughs kings and clowns
juggling brief victory and endless grief and loss
The bending is acceptable; we paint it the human experience
but breaking the soul of all things is the devil's only thought
we are its glass seeds tossed over the gilded swells
into the black throated troughs, where nothing ever grows.
The mundane (the middle child) is a forest of contemplation
reflection
a place of steady growth.... or not
The soil will eventually join the sea
bringing everything back home...
like it was always meant to be..
From the blueness of the sky,
there's truth hidden beneath the skin.
Conscience knows the scene:
if not life, then death holds the truth,
so I choose to stay with the truth.
You raise love only to take life.
You sing love songs to the sun,
reciting lyrics of hate to the stars,
sharing my time with hate and death,
closing my tunnel to shine,
changing the channel when I cry,
giving motivations of failure when I try,
shutting down my dreams as you shout,
Placing stones beneath my bed,
promoting dreams of unpeaceful rest.
You have changed.
You give names of turbulent flow:
Gravity, you're pulling me down.
You used to sing songs of grace to the mercies.
Taking one step at a time was our pace;
living like kings and queens was the price.
Giving reasons,
you've become seasons—
you're falling leaves in the rainy season.
You open the eyes of the blind not to see,
You stir angry waves in the ocean:
fighting for the sea,
lullabies you used to sing—
Not with skepticism ;you were amazing.
But now,
you have changed.
The Tenth month
What is there to say about
about a perfect day, the first of October
when the sun is infused with silver
A few cumuli look like a bride's belt
a sky that has pale blueness
bathed in the mystical haziness of dreams
The limitless seeking understanding
why oak leaves fall and grass takes
on the color auburn and lemon hue
In supple silence, I hear animals getting
ready for a white landscape, the long
rest before a new spring explodes
Do not sleep this day be aware, feel
the dust free air and nuanced harmony
of a moment that will not reappear
Vale Paradiso
The sea life is blueness caused by monotony
Formica tables and dirty fingernails
as the ship wanders between water vales
climbing to the top of mountainous berg
and sharply falling into a foamy brew
when the storm persists, knowing a small
mishap is fatal, there is nothing one can
do, but hoping the end will be quick
In my ignorance, I look at the map that
shows the oceans, which appear to be endless
will the ship ever reach Los Angeles
I think of Vale Paradiso, this cumbersome
will not make it that far
Finally, she makes, any place will do, but
what waits are bars and whores, not
the peace longed for
The brain is an instrument of improvisation
suffocating in an ancient bone cave
with its white and gray byways
garnished in electrical blood drops
creating great works though time pressed
and pressurized.
It is also a weapon of mass deception
pods of oddness always plotting
endless deep blueness and innate jealousy
a DNA staircase decorated in ornate self-centeredness
prone to God mocking and demon envious.
Overall, the brain is a hieroglyphic glass ball
bursting with dead-end riddles and plutonium destinies
perched upon a flint and paper faith pedestal.
Sunshine rousing cheers echo the day in
As clouds move to blueness
And colors arch over earth
Made anew in rejuvenating pleasure.
A butterfly sings, dances,
And chooses a flowering Daisy’s ring
Of white ray petals reaching out
Between the emerald, green blades,
In prayer and thank you.
Puddles mirror their beauty;
Swelling belly raindrops hang
Swaddling images.
Our Creator sets off with His Grace.
6/27/2024
The anti- social one is around and done
There is no fun for this one as the pain drains
This one is insane and has a wild brain
Hear the rain and thunder on the window pane
The new day brings a crane to dig out and away
Today is a day,bright & sunny,to stay
To heal & deal blueness so,at bay
There is the faith that joy won't faint and wither
Do others often ask themselves,
" Are there days without darkness...
when another storm shows fierceness?
Has hope dimmed for selfish reasons? "
And the living pay little attention to events,
although they grin and appear to be perplexed;
and they miss every sign of the crucial times:
how can they not be aware? That's so absurd!
Are there days without darkness?
The evil ones embrace dark ideals
to accomplish a task linked to death,
to control and suppress each breath!
Anybody who holds the absolute power,
shouldn't neglect the masses with needs;
money is squandered on wars that drives:
brother against brother, sister against sister!
Lost is the concept of fairness, of humanness;
they silence the one who's forced to rebels against
the iron hand from the throne of false atonement:
they have built a dungeon fit for raving lions!
Are there days without darkness,
with limpid skies of unfaded blueness?
Are the paved roads free of thistles:
where all are safe from vile threats?
The whole sky was white
No blueness was shown
There was no sunshine
A chill in the air
It was very cold
Then the snowflakes fell
Lightly coating the ground
Only to repeat
Coating the ground white
mother nature tease
She can not decide
Whether it is spring
for thew month of March
Or is it winter
Don't forget
My Love...
My bud ... ,
My tenderness.
You have the key to my heart,
And you will always be in my soul
I love you
My princess
Now and forever.
My beautiful Lady
You are my world
You're in my eye
In my arms...
You wake up, in my mornings
With hair loose, tousled - at pillows
And blueness of nights which come
Are what my soul dreams
Tonight, just gently,
Lean your head on my shoulder
And quietly, very quietly, sing
the hymn to our love
Queen of my heart,
My soul and my life
You make my life happy
I love you
Don't forget
My Love...
My bud ... ,
My tenderness.
You have the key to my heart,
And you will always be in my soul
I love you
My princess
Now and forever.
The whole sky is white
No blueness is showing
Snowflakes are falling
Spreading to the ground
Bare trees are coated
With the warmth of snow
Bushes are covered
With patches of snow
The Evergreen trees
Decorated wit whiteness
The wooden fences
Look brighter with snow
Sidewalks are deepened
As the snow falling
The streets packed with snow
Time for the snow plough
The day before a storm
belies calm and quiet,
wispy clouds bounce in skies
bright with boundless blueness,
Southern summer surprise.
The day before a storm
promotes a sweet fragrance
blown by light, gentle gusts,
softly scampering through
with breathy upward thrusts.
The day before a storm
imprints the Southern sky,
a taunting, teasing wind
caresses blank canvas
and moves colors to blend.
The day before a storm
rattles ironclad glaives
of battling stratus clouds,
a lull looms in the air
warning of what it shrouds.
The day after a storm
shades the skies in blackness,
shoutings of rain subside
in the blueness of day
where puffy clouds reside.
The day after a storm
quenches the scorched, sere earth,
clamor of birds is heard –
a chaotic chorale –
theater of absurd
The day after a storm
betrays the Southern sun,
the sad bruises hidden
in amorphous phases
peeking through, unbidden.
The day after a storm,
smectic layers emerge
iridescent yet clear,
suffusing the soulful,
coaxing Sol to appear.
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