Morning, bright morning,
your promise has come
Morning, bright morning,
new birth of the sun
Into your arms
I bathe in reflection
Into your warmth
I strip off my fear
Into your heart
I surrender the darkness
Into your strength
I lay down my spear
Morning, bright morning,
your promise has come
Morning, bright morning
—today rebegun
(Local Train From 30th Street Philadelphia: May, 2022)
I've BEEN invited alone
into a carefully distinct sex
whose sharp fangs comb
my thoughts so ghost
Within these disarrayed eyes
from ground into green
zinc coffin with mask
i found this memory appears
a slab as spine in bits of
red and CLARA VENUS scent.
:: 12212021 ::
Two pure
souls
a united pair
in a nature love.
Two God"s
creatures
Clara and Francisco,
indeed
sacred love
holy fraternity
Charmed
by divine
power...
Immaculate soul mates...
No flesh,
no sex
only
strong spark of
God"s love !
Clara Oswald Who
The Doctor's secret wife—who knew?
Returned from September's honeymoon
By way of last year's month of June
Brisk breezes spin around and around
lifting dust devils high off the ground.
And children wearing happy faces
rush to find their favorite places.
Clara the clown runs out to applause
with dogs pulling kittens in rickshaws.
And as rolling waves of laughs begin
she spots Jim, noting which seat he’s in.
As the crowd cheers the rodeo show
a cowboy works his grip, set to go.
Yet the bull he’s on is too headstrong
and Clara can tell something is wrong.
The bull bucks, and as she runs out there
the cowboy is flung into the air.
And tons of muscle shift in a blur
sparing the young man, death charges her.
She falls down and the bull goes insane
as Jim rushes to her screams of pain.
And lamenting the death of his love
he holds her head cursing God above.
Listing her death as unsavory
she is cited for her bravery.
And filled with grief they supported Jim
for the whole town felt sorry for him.
(Rhyme)
June 5, 2018
Mission known for fine hand weaving.
Chosen site left priests not leaving.
Neophytes were seen believing.
Bay's close, great crops.
Sickness leaves now no one grieving.
Soldiers made stops.
(Dedication: For my daughter Clara's Birthday)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLESSINGS FOR CLARA
On your birthday:
May love and light
Show you the way
As grace lifts sight.
May joy and peace
Make your heart light
As joy brings ease
To quest and flight.
May love make whole
In surge of good
As joy of soul
Floods your fond moods.
May laughter cheer
Each day with zest
As love comes near
With ample fest.
May your dreams thrill
You happy days
As grand goodwill
Bring rainbow rays.
May each day bring
A touch of bliss
As your soul sings
Through that and this.
May love make whole
The smiles you trace
As heart and soul
Lives time and space.
May peace of mind
Bring stillness deep
As blessings kind
Be yours to keep.
May your work be
A source of joy
Where affluent seas
Sync fond employ.
May cheer find voice
With you each day
As dreams style poise
Along the way.
May fond blessings
Sculpt faith and hope
And good times bring
Love in warm scope.
We wish you grace
As love abides
To touch your face
In life's joy ride.
Leon Enriquez
21 November 2017
Singapore
Jetblack sunrise ashen, breastbone of the final dark.
My priest must leave to return to his ghostly parish.
Where traitors necks stretch down from moss to swamp.
I met the host of my companions, caught by first dawn’s watchfire dogs, waits for his beloved no more.
Oh, his Clara, I must console before chill sets too deep within bone and lung.
I will guard my deathbed promise to him, for to wipe her fair brow.
To finger her dark ringlets with ever my trigger torn hands.
Considering myself curious to love a West Indies fleshy maid.
The poked corporal would find me, on ghastly red steed to behead twice over for him, my host, and her my temptress Clara.
The belle of run through young soldiers.
PINK
PINK
PINK
painting PINK
In memory of Clara Anderson—artist--beloved aunt, mother and role model
Clara had her breasts removed
Long before Pink was beloved
Bravely faced the doctors knife
Mother’s friend and navy wife
Clara danced on 30 years
Battled pain
Laughed through tears
And her paint brush
Carried on
Splashed her color
Like a song
Clara, Clara come out to play
And rise from your satin bed
Close the door against the day
And I won’t tell you’re dead
Clara my sweet Clara
The angels bid you wake
The tyrants rise before your eyes
Against a closed mistake
Clara oh sweet Clara
Remember why you’re dead
And why you lay among the stones
That gently forms your bed
Clara, Clara come out to play
Awake oh gentle loom
And weave your meaning in the day
And out from the tomb
I received her phone call out of the blue,
I felt I have encountered my poem.
I wished nothing bad happens to her,
When I looked at her first time.
When she is with me,
All of her is there.
She walks like a young antelope,
Standing up it’s like a snake uncoiled,
She is nothing but a ballerina,
Somnambulist walking around.
She wears the most beautiful mouth ever,
Conveying sex appeal with just one feature.
Nevertheless she makes it amusing,
Her looks make her living in teens.
Practicing calisthenics of body and mind,
She shuns alcohol, meat and smoking.
When she departs to be with her dear ones,
I won’t say goodbye to her,
As she is there in a niche of my heart.
=================================
Second Placement
Contest: The life of a ficticious person
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