Oh, how my eyebrows seem to bow,
To mark where life has got me now.
Each furrow etched across my brows
Defies what my well-swept hair allows.
My brow is bossy, yet will not kowtow,
It tells the world what's here and now.
Before I've spoken, it's clear somehow!
With the truth written on my brow.
It arches high when dreams take wing,
Then droops down low, when doubt sink in.
It charts each worry, joy, and vow—
In life's diary written on a brow.
Some call me highbrow, some say not.
Some a lobrow, all tied in a knot.
Such labels rise, and fall to new lows.
My brow wears none — it simply shows.
Alas, my brow will never ever lie;
It speaks before I can wonder why.
My eyebrows rise, my forehead pleads,
Confessing more than my face concedes.
So I don't beat my brow in vain,
Or wear it smooth, with needless strain.
It lifts with hope, it softens with care,
I trace the lines onto where I dare.
So my brow-beaten brow of mine
That traces all my worries, line by line
Your furrows are not my fault, somehow—
But the quirk of eyebrows on the plough.
Give me a man who's introspects
Who concedes the flaw that's true
Give me a man who can laugh at himself
And can walk in another's shoes.
Give me a man who can stand apart
But who's able to blend in
When the road ends he can restart
He plays fair when he strives to win.
Give me a man who can see the world
Without a filter of preconception
Who can recognize when the script is overthrown
By one nagging exception.
Give me a man who can take a critique
But who can also dish one out
Admitting fault doesn't make you weak
And sometimes there is room for doubt.
Give me a man who hears the quiet voice
The soft alarm that something's wrong
Who steps back, revises his choice
Like rewriting the words of a hit song.
Give me a man who likes to jump in a pond
And swim to the far shore
Who wants to see what lies beyond,
And what the journey's for.
Give me a man with a strong arm and a soft word
Empathetic, but not to the point of harm
Who can go against the herd
When the party line raises an alarm.
Give me the company of men such as these
They'll keep me honest too
A trust so deep to keep at ease
And friends to see me through.
April soon concedes to May,
where early blossoms will mature,
and move toward Summer bloom.
There, Springtime promise is fulfilled,
and as the cycles of all life-
wane in Fall, to then meet Winter gloom.
At that sacred hour when the light concedes,
And the sun, a tired monarch, slowly bleeds
Across the horizon's wide and waiting stage,
The world turns over a new, dimmer page.
The shadows, long and languid, start to creep,
And lull the noisy, waking world to sleep.
The sky, a bruise of amber, rose, and rust,
Surrenders all its certainties to dust.
A final, fleeting, fiercely golden flare,
Then softens to a hush in the evening air.
Our voices, once so bold, now fall away,
As thoughts too loud for daylight start to sway.
A loneliness, a quiet passenger,
Sits down with us, a familiar visitor.
And in its company, a ghost of romance
Waltzes on the air, a single, saddened glance
At love once held, now just a fading hue,
A part of day the night has swallowed too.
This is the sundowner, more than just a drink,
A ritual upon the mind's own brink.
A pause, a breath, a moment held in glass,
Where what has been and what will be both pass.
A reckoning with all the light has burned,
And all the truths the darkness has not learned.
A sweetness in the letting go, the fall,
Suspended, in the quiet, after all.
Source of his princely uplift.
Of his mood's proud joy.
Whom, wave on wave, affectionate
Kisses one way blows!
Of this morn's beautifying.
And at springtime's height!
Of this renewed hope's, a new age
In the heart precedes.
Love's, what each gardener concedes
The loveliest glows.
A Chinese Sonnet
The fog glides softly over the river' sigh.
A fisher heals his net of dreaming;
He knows the star is not for catching.
A heron curtsies where the water bends.
Its wings remember the spirits of ancestors.
Each ripple replies softly-''All ends,And yet
nothing truly ends''
The oracle rests alongside the current,
Perusing stillness,not words in the flow.
'' Truly'',she says ''is what the heart concedes,
not what the tongue commands?''
Dusk moves down,beacons shiver on the river.
The river keeps the mysteries of those who listen.
rivulets mold rivers unborn
rivers hold oceans at bay
oceans reflect stars till morn
starlight concedes the new day
whispers of stars wake the light
light reflects rivers newborn
oceans kiss sunlight goodnight
starlight again is reborn
may concedes to june
when spring rebirth is complete
the time to mature -
grassy hills turn verdant green
blossoms explode with color
july soon refines
june's promise of fulfillment
expanding its gifts -
fuller and vibrant glory
paints the mature summertime
late august moves in
heading towards surrender
come autumn's flurry -
fading greens and colors hush
on their way to winter sleep
My afterthought is my goal--precedes me,
My health and healing is my main concern,
All else is fairly addressed--and not key,
My patience requires my good return.
Good hopes and goodwill--righteousness succeeds,
My afterthought is my goal--precedes me,
Glory be His name, as illness concedes,
Treatment and proper care will set me free.
An amicable life leads properly,
A blessed future will be my reward,
My afterthought is my goal--precedes me,
Well-kept focus, one mind, and one accord.
My faith is strong in Christ's saving Grace,
My good health is healing internally,
My health accompanies me to first base,
My afterthought is my goal--precedes me,
The Holy Land neath hammer blows -
is this what Jesus prophesied:
when sad-sack’s hanged like mistletoes
the sightless see a suicide;
when thousands fall like dominoes
the blind deny it’s homicide;
when women fry in thermal throes
the gents reject it’s femicide
when rockets slaughter embryos
the fools forget it’s feticide
when children die and decompose
the dullards doubt infanticide;
when bodies burn with afterglows
no one concedes it’s genocide.
Whichever way the west wind blows
leaves morals dangling, crucified…
William Charles Lunalilo
First King, chose by the people
Grandnephew of the Great King, as the people vote, was unanimous
Next year, King Kamehameha the Sixth died of tuberculosis
Hawaiian marriages are coconuts
Apple's eye, orchard nigh--girls uppercuts
Bees concede and confess
Honey is not the best
Lunalilo stings in-laws -- blood and guts.
Pacific divides paradise from lies, pulpit denies, missionary connives, fleece, devise hoax, and shanghais,
The native's supplies for whalers, all dives. At times, pearls for wider eyes, command contrives to control their lives.
Kings II & III foresaw their greed, the lands were a need to wed and achieve access was their way to succeed,
Lunalilo was short-lived, the people he decreed, as past kings agreed, a land trust deed, 'ere his life concedes.
As Bindu and third eye entwine,
we feel pristine presence align
with the pulse of the universe,
renouncing cravings that confine.
Dancing without need to rehearse,
vibrant heart composes a verse,
recognising life is but play,
accepted for better or worse.
Be this as it may, we yet sway,
having not made love our mainstay
and so betwixt glimmers of light,
silence becomes our chosen way.
Third eye grants sight and Bindu, bliss,
bestowed by Divine Mother’s kiss,
whence feeble form becomes aflame
and we see we are all of this.
With God connect as soul’s sole aim,
there remain no demons to tame
and suffused by magnetic heat,
emptiness is our claim to fame.
As polarities meet and greet,
throb of bliss makes heart feel upbeat
and as we slowly vaporise,
wayward ego concedes defeat.
Embracing each breath in surprise,
we do not weigh, measure or size,
soul choosing instead, to be led
by God’s magnetism to new highs.
Ivory pilots night's idyllic sighs,
like timely climbing sky--untying cries,
lights espying irises gliding rise.
Evening lean sleeping,
beacon competing,
concedes pleasing keen scenes,
appealing leaping,
sincere esteeming,
green treat sweetly redeems.
Trailing rays draping shapes,
maple framing trace,
claiming plains facing lakes,
bravely wades gauged space.
Green fields teasing,
--thieving seething,
weeds beseech release,
feel they cheated,
leaves defeated,
ease sense peaceful wreaths.
Yellow roses,
showy floats,
potato groves,
grown rows notes,
tomatoes hold,
closely wove,
flowering show,
sloping globe,
drove lonesome road,
banjo tone,
broken myPhone,
coasting home.
Reeling breezes freely sweep ...
weakened peels, eternal sleep ...
green trees reach needed relief,
complete healing frees fig leaf.
Humans muse Cupid,
blew flutes,
spooking unicorns,
smooth tunes moody blooms,
grew blue,
jewel unique forms.
Severe events fleecing green dreams,
precede teaching seeding extremes.
My listless thoughts are entirely detached
My mind unable to fully equate
These feelings completely skewed and mismatched
Emotions flee my mind then dissipate
The brain concedes to devil incarnate
Yielding to a distant watching member
Recalling a past I can't remember.
As the shadows start to lengthen
And the colors turn to gray
The sun concedes its dominance
For night it's making way
A barque for you is waiting
To take you out to sea
To sail you to the sunset
The captain of it, me
Please come aboard my bonny
I've made a place for you
The best seat on the forward prow
The sunset in full view
I've got your pink knit slippers
And yellow blanket too
You'll be warm and comfy cozy
As we sail the ocean blue
I know the deepest channels
The surface smooth as glass
The journey will be pleasant
Though it won't be very fast
Against the tide we're sailing
The reason why is clear
The longer it takes to get there
The longer you'll be here
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