Laying down wondering
where did you go after
visiting my dreams
from time to time?
A regular guest you became,
Now I see you less and
less leaving my memories
in such an emotional
distraught,
as you left a feeling
I thought I would never have,
a desire unknown,
a burning sensation leaving
me trembling whenever
I fall asleep
dreaming hoping
to see you but terrified
to awake in our gardens with-
out you,
your lasting impression heightens
this tension made by your
breath,
voice,
smile,
and eyes,
a reflection in every flower
I pass by,
as I get closer to the end
of this path,
I slowly step off
this carousel,
despite your absence in our
short lived encounters,
I await your return breathing
in the last gift you left,
silently I yearn on my own
behalf..
Present
in the moment,
Listen to the whisper.
A sweet resonance deep within.
Slow breaths and centering
now, cometh peace
the GIFT
I met with Mr. Eastwood for the first time with both of us, and I know he's savvy about people's character.
I would rate Clint as, par for the course as Pebble Beach is noted for, in due part to Bing Crosby's efforts, whereto the family carried the banner until AT&T, went the distance.
Clint was good, but he had an Ace, plain Joe-Clint ... had plain-Jane, along with her many SF Bay Airian invitees--zich hile, Mata Hari.
Where's William, Clint asks? (abrupts Derek's notable timing) Oh, you met William, he's like that pineapple they've invented across the bay.
It's not called that, besides, I heard you got fired. Reprimanded Jayney. William doesn't fire, yeah a reprimand would be in order, a character like you. Well, it wasn't him, it was Mr Lars. I knew it, William never fired anybody.
I agree Jane. Mr. Eastwood, William has a way of teaching somebody like throwing a curve ball. What do you mean by that, curve ball?
Well, he talked about the last hockey game's final scoring played out, while teaching me how to change the ink in our large front office machine--the hockey game lost to the copier.
“When the curtain drops, should we not applaud” ~ by poet
age wrinkles the face of youth
and dulls its eyes~
in no time, Death is at my door
a shadow of a shadow...
my ears pretend not to hear
His approach
gasping in ragged breaths ~
His nails
scraping against old bones
Death drinks my tears
BREATHS
of poetic words
come flowing
like snowflakes falling
in my mind
they drift
and collide
&merge
into a poem
a puzzle
beautiful
IN MOMENTS
a thought
is born
poetic
it
falls from my pen
bleeding
my emotions
my sadness
&full of my life
this moment
in time
&meaningful
MUSINGS
float
fading fading
like snowflakes melting
grasp them
hold them
to
heart
to soul then let them go
with a kiss
let them fly
like wild birds
life butterflies
like snowflakes floating
Yesterday I unscrewed the top of the
homemade huckleberry jam you gave
me before you left for Lisbon.
I took deep purple breaths to fill
my light pink lungs.
It was such a necessary experience;
the vision of you in my mind’s eye
atrophies each day, the Atlantic
between us casts foggy shades on
my eyes and the crystal clear memory
muddles like a lake after heavy rain
The anxiety of asking you a question
when I have no idea what the answer
will be, but have every notion of what
I wish it to be. It’s a 60 pound backpack
4 hours into an uphill hike, so I resign
my curiosity and just tap the Portuguese
postcard nailed to the wall beneath
the light switch every time I leave the house.
and hope that you would do the same.
Within everything unsaid between breaths
silent tears begin to make a soft slide;
As you fasten your lips on mine I moan
every touch is heightened and so intense;
Said I didn’t want you, turns out I lied;
The truth hidden in a nonchalant tone
eased up to hide the weight that they carry;
Broke off a piece of me left it inside
now you will never truly be alone;
Gasp with me in wonderment of every
unknown.
An age gets caught in brew
Cheers to birthday off worry
Feel alright anew
Time is getting old
But don't grow dream in scurry
Shine your light so bold
Learn to find pure joy
Live a very nice story
That contents enjoy
Picture making life
Shine on positive glory
That records no strife
Could not forget this
Your wish- a reverend sister
Now gone off at ease
Someone has gone miles
To make your broken piece right
By flaming your smiles
How time becomes gay
Eyes shine sun's heat like moon's light
Win it his own way
Keep up your heart's peace
With love that lights your plight's quest
Without been apiece
Happy birthday dear
Grow in God's grace that unrest
Fulfilling career
Till her dreams come true
Growing care for options subdue
As God blesses you
Erasing the past, yet blessing
The promise of yesterday, the graceful
Way she echoes inspirational prose,
Colorful whispers of insight, wisdom
Replacing each melancholic joke
With laughter, smiles, beauty
Flowing through the moments, the
Gentling blows from a silence
Bursting with compassion, imagining
Beckoning hope, the song of joy
Arising from the moment
When music stirs the soul to smile
With the tenderness of a first kiss
The wonder, the feeling of bliss
Creativity – the muse,
Publishing anticipation on the breath
Passions promising to never fade
In the heart, she is living a life
Filled with memories,
Moments on the mind who divide
The present from the past
And guide the spirit to a remembrance
- Every flavor of the sun, light
- Beaming through the overflow
- Repeating the rosy glow
A heart who knows one way
The way of grace, faith, peace
Serenity that never fades away
But always keeps the heart in time
With yesterday’s bruised rhyme!
Painting prompted Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Lisa YY
October 22, 2022
Exactly 160 Words
She takes a breath, a big one
The kind that lifts her chest
She holds magic within herself
Then unleashes all of her Grace
She is purely a creature of light
A force of nature, so absolute, so fragile
She could break herself
Have the world shatter
Poetry flowing over her skin
As it lights her up from within
The melody of her expression explodes
Her energy smashed and scattered
And those who saw her when
She was in her space
Where they could not touch
Her or even chase, helpless
In the face of her fire
So hot, so bright it blazed
In the brilliance of a thousand suns
Till she quenches her deep thirst
This awakened dragon sitting inside
With billowing wings of green and orange
Like a whirlwind of autumn leaves twirling
Cascading down words unfurling!
30.5.22
Asphyxiating one breath at a time
Oxygen levels not worth a dime
Gasping for breath
A step closer to death
We will soon hear her funeral bells chime
They fling, frisk and frolic across my mind
one breath two breaths so on so forth
They romp, revel and rollick enshrined
one thought two thoughts so on so forth
They jink, jovial and joyful light as air
one idyll thought after another in my nest
They bounce, beg, behold without a care
perusing in my loft without a quest
They mate, mesh and move into me
one breath two breaths I let them flow
They sit, settle and seduce me their free
empty as a shell I yolk them, then let them go.
September 16, 2021
Sponsor : John Lawless
Contest Name: Idyll Thoughts
As a misty autumn succumbs to winters harsh chilling grasp.
The sky turns bleak and hues of shrouding grey.
The ominous days unfold shorter and colder.
The remnants of vegetation lie pitifully withered and sparse,
as nature rests dead and in the throes of decay.
Early morning frost like sprinkled powder
smothers a barren land
and shards of ice hang from naked trees as fingers of a hand.
Dewdrops appear like goosebumps,
along a parade of wrinkly naked trees.
Bare branches and rooftops seem lifeless,
as birds have no desire for frosty serenades.
Trampled iced leaves, decay in ashen damp air,
as snail-like sluggish humanity adorns its seasonal fleece.
Despite winter's scentless bitter breaths,
the soul ignites an internal bonfire -
radiating a vigilant glow to the surface.
Silent One collaboration with Peter Dome.
13 November 2020
As a misty autumn succumbs to winters harsh chilling grasp.
The sky turns bleak and hues of shrouding grey.
The ominous days unfold shorter and colder.
The remnants of vegetation lie pitifully withered and sparse,
as nature rests dead and in the throws of decay.
Early morning frost like sprinkled powder
smothers a barren land
and shards of ice hang from naked trees as fingers of a hand.
Dew drops appear like goose bumps,
along a parade of wrinkly naked trees.
Bare branches and rooftops seem lifeless,
as birds have no desire for frosty serenades.
Trampled iced leaves, decay in ashen damp air,
as snail-like sluggish humanity adorns its seasonal fleece.
Despite winter's scentless bitter breaths,
the soul ignites an internal bonfire -
radiating a vigilant glow to the surface.
Silent One collaboration with Peter Dome.
13 November 2020
Thank you Peter for this brilliant collaboration.
Peter is a very talented poet, please check out his poetry.
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