Sits the monkish owl.
Beneath its own cowl.
If not candled and windowed, lit as
Soft, meditative.
That, wakeful, before
Sinks, wearily, more.
Grass-burnt, sunned life. Flashed too lewd, pranced through.
Dawned; hell-reactive.
FREE AT LAST
8/7/2023
Freedom from being admired…
Off of the vanity of vanities treadmill.
My face above the candled window sill,
Wonderfully, from freezing pride retired.
I still can pen, when I am not tired…
To be my own, happy, self again!
Not a caged animal in a Poetry Pen
Glory to God~no addiction to be admired!
Selling uranium to Putin through CFIUS
Made less social sense than contracting syphilis
Unless to grow a Global reset chrysalis
Aiding American transformation abyss.
Putin may well employ Wyoming yellow cake
To cower Europeans with nuclear bake
Candled with cancerous cumulus mushroom clouds,
Granting his covering Ukraine with a death shroud.
Somewhere on a beach, there are lovers
umbrellas shade their secret kiss
the ocean serenades
and as the salted mist approves
their passion never fades
Somewhere, there’s a table, set for two
with violins and candled glow
a question to invite
a ring in pocket hopes to jewel
a bride dressed all in white
Somewhere, on a golden wedding cake
a couple speaks to memory
still with hand in hand
and guided by a love so true
all perils to withstand
Somewhere, there’s a love forever yours
it lives alone as you don’t know
we are so far apart
If I could only tell you now
that it lives in my heart
As Memory Serves
A mere bump in time...
as bottled cork pops,
engaged second hand...
conveyed decibels,
dons melting,
against that instant,
"It's a boy!", resonates.
Reflecting after those many years,
I smiled while he blows...
his 44th candled flame,
~~best is poured.
gifted memories
timelessly bottled uncorks
~~aged wine stirs in ice
2020 June 30
A shoal of roach fast scatter at my shadow.
Mother moorhen toots as chick ducks in
and out of overhanging ivy.
A boating flower floats along intact
with shadow's faithful dancing follow,
on gravel, then over weed and back.
Across the stream two white hat coots.
One ferries straw between its beak
with earnest nodding paddled scoots.
Buddlea, dipping low some leafy locks
quenches from the summer heat
its purple pointed candled shocks.
Sudden rising pigeon claps with winged
applause.Creator takes all honour, surely.
Outside all man's walls and doors
no other makes such glory.
Gentle Egg
She candled an egg in her soft hands
protecting the fragile,
inspecting with light;
Cusping
Like either horn
Of a crescent moon
When floated aloft on two
dexterous
fingers.
Was she not peering into the future?
Making a determination perhaps
Even listening,
Searching for signs
of life?
or something more mundane ---
Broken vessels
Spots of blood
promising rot ...
Yolkers
like me...
winter awakens
life's humble beatitudes
iced with candled glow
12/22/2018
And there will be no candled moon,
No bones picked clean by virtue's rage
Against all sins left un-forgiven.
Lovers left in limbo-light at dawn
Shall stand as statues stand,
Alone, as broken martyrs
Cast in marbled majesty.
When death destroys our sacredness
All sorrows of the soul are spread
Like seeds across a barren field.
A whale-eyed sailor sings
The hymns of his contrition,
To banished angels caged beneath
A deep and wind-swept sea.
They rise again to wail
Against the shackled straps
Around their proud and pompous souls.
Their dripping teeth are bared
And black with rot of time.
The Vultures hover over
Decimated cityscapes.
Cold moon of winter rising;
Hoar-frost clinging fast
To withered vines.
Fields once fertile now are fallow,
Planters scatter seed for naught,
Their holy harvest stolen
By embittered little gods
Who grope with hope that nature will succumb
And soon become but scuttled rubble - charred!
A world grown old - no longer born anew,
Is stripped and ripped with overkill
Of things once cherished and are cherished still.
THE ALABASTER BALL
Earth sent invitations
To a danse one night
Requesting all invited
Please – to come in white.
The glass-coached clouds assembled
And the Ebon Sky
Banked its brightest fire,
Snuffed each candled eye.
Then the Winds belled music
Set a whirling pace
And down the Heavens
Waltzed the Snows,
In their finest lace.
When time is still, I'll think fondly of you
Quiet renders of love's probable cause
This love now colored in a vibrant hue
A lingering fragrance that brings this pause
To think of you in a long cotton dress
Walking in fields where eyes invite desire
and hand held laughter skips across its cress,
to challange the world with a passion's fire
As our love sustains our illusion to dream
We'll fill each tender moment we find right
and watch shadows dance in candled theme
To create new memories we'll hold tight
I'll share no reason for these thoughts passing,
or make sense of love being everlasting
contest I Think of You
2/15/15
I dream of roses and a lover's song
The fragrance lingers from yesterday's air,
of sensual touch, when nights were long
And I was drowning in her falling hair
I gave her roses of passionate red
Spreading petals around her sweeter scent
We'd drink from love's cup, drunk on the unsaid
Lost in scented roses, fragrance now spent
Exposing her soul, revealing her cry
Who loved red roses and passionate love
A fiery white light that burned through night sky
She was a lover. One.... dreams are made of
I gave her red roses, for times lover's share,
She gave candled nights, beneath falling hair
contest Roses Roses Roses
PENETRATING EYE~LIDS SHUT APON DREAMING,
SILENTLY AMORE, I LAY, SHIVERING NUTORIOUSLY,
FOR THAT ONE MOMENT, HE LOOKS, AT ME WITH WARM
FIRE IN HIS CANDLED EYES, WHERE A BURNING LOVES DESIRE,
BECOMES CAPTIVATED,IN THE MOON~LIGHTS STARS BED ROOM,
I HAVE RELEASED MY INNER BODY, TO PASSIONATELY GIVE HIM,
MY ALL,WITH NO HESSITATION....
I am knowing
I am of this and this alone
I am of want and hurry
Of bitterness chilled to its bone
Waiting and watching
Luring till peeked
This frenzy that bares soul naked
That leaves no trace of human seed
I am still
I am of charge
Pushing through crowds
Stumbling upon man's infinite chaos
That makes us blink twice-
If not once more
That cools and calms the weary eye
That summons restraint when out of control
Turns brittle spine
Weaves haunted mind
Leaves the guessing unknowing
Something wicked misbehaves in kind
Though its approach malformed and growing
With light and without
By candled crooked flame
This fury spawned through shout
Through alarm and unturned page.
they probably wouldn’t.
They would sing instead, since talking for them,
Has no melody, you see...
These walls, serenade the shadows, dancing on every side,
Like a fast midnight ride...
There are upside down, silhouettes of every song
I've heard, I've sang or have written-bitten
with heartache and loneliness;
These songs have passed the test in my endurance...
These sad songs, I play over and over between my jazz piano
And they hang from the ceiling like slow time's candled
chandeliers.
These walls don’t tell their secrets…it would
Serve no purpose; they have no rhyme.
These walls have held my life's trinkets with rare eminence,
Photographs, clocks, paintings, handbags, wedding dresses
prom dresses, tuxedos, all silent, as the music
that expresses the muse inside my heart
when awake or asleep.
Yes, if these walls would talk they'd ask
whose business is it any way.
They would whisper "caution" into a window breeze.
They would Sing my favorite lyrics,
Just as I wrote and sung them.
"Quiet Please!
Let this dream be
all of him
that belongs to me
held in silence within these four walls.
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