Soft musical chimes
Silenced by autumn's still air
Poised for winter
Shadow Waters
The water-bearer leans his urn silently,
pours starlight over forsaken streets
where neon lights flash their final confessions
and shattered promises accumulate like rain.
Here in the reverse trickle of time,
where advancement is lost in its own reflection,
the era turns in, searching for explanations
in dregs of what we believed we'd gained.
Electric prophets air hollow gospels
while the crowds scroll through ghost lives,
each contact another strand that entwines us
to this tapestry of lovely despair.
The constellation turns above, unchanging
those very stars that once held out liberty
now witness us tumble into the labyrinth
we built from our own radiant ideals.
In tower suites and lower-level clubs,
the children of the future sell their souls
to algorithms who recognize their secret names
and dole them out in morsels, afterwards.
Yet, still, the water flows, unceasing,
carrying seeds of something not yet born
perhaps redemption sleeps in darkness
of this shattered, brilliant age.
The carrier's face away from us,
sloshing the future drop by drop
while we stand dry in the flood,
suffocating in our own lighted shadows.
September reaches into the soul
Comforting so that it makes me feel whole
Heartstrings Lyrics By Ron VanHooser
I can recall moments now lost in time,
Long before meeting, I knew you were mine.
morning rain showers
life's simple, delightful joys
fragile, fleeting peace
ALONE IN A CROWD
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
she’s alone in the bustling crowd~
around her, river of faces,
a current of hurried footsteps,
briefcases bumping, hushed goodbyes
archipelago of motion
no one notices her quietness~
train arrives, and she steps forward
departure’s anonymity
AGE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Awakening wisdom in a quiet space,
Gentle acceptance of what time imparts,
Embracing the journey as I grow whole.
Fascinated, Gainfully Harnessed, Impishly Joyful
Again, a contest I can't deny.
There's someone though, who makes me grateful
While I sit and ponder, knowing my.
Kind, Loyal, Muse, Nicely Observes
My constant request for her inspiration.
By finding words this poem deserves
Through her obliging communication.
Perusing Quests Requires Studious Time
To edit, correct, some lines rearrange.
Ensuring then my end words all rhyme
Therefore, deliberate lines to exchange.
Unquestioned Victory, With Xenial Yes!
Together my muse and I agree.
These words are ours, but now confess
My secret muse is really like me!
Lyrics By Lin Lane
Seems like yesterday I watched your fingers
play the piano, and heard your music unfold.
In memories, the romantic vision of us lingers,
though love's symphony dulled like tarnished gold.
When we were together, you wrote for me,
songs you scored day and night to compose
of the passion between an oak and willow tree,
Lyrics sweet as the fragrant scent of a rose.
Chorus:
But your love wilted like a flower
whose leaves lie withered on the keys.
My heart is wounded and I've no power
to make the miserable ache inside of it ease.
Tender notes on sheet music, ripped and torn.
No longer sung for they bring pain and grief,
stabbing me like a rose's sharpest thorn.
From loss of yesterday's passion there's no relief.
Can time erase the memories I fear won't fade?
Traces of us and what use to be linger in me.
I sway as if slayed by a dagger, and I'm afraid
that from the ghost of you, I'll never be free.
Chorus:
Your love wilted like a flower
whose leaves lie withered on the keys.
My heart is wounded and I've no power
to make the miserable ache inside of it ease.
MY DAYS NOW HALCYON
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I embrace the sun's lavender glow,
for time has etched my story,
one of wisdom, silent knowing
an ancient river softly flowing.
Refrain:
sepia memories have come and gone
reflecting upon my days now halcyon
these eyes have seen a thousand dawns
regretting times when others I did wrong
self-forgiveness becomes my swan song
wondering if in my waning years I’ll be strong.
Refrain
sepia memories have come and gone
reflecting upon my days now halcyon
the temperament’s softened with the years,
sometimes remembering trails of a million tears,
those invisible ones that cascaded down my face
a steady stream sourced at the river of my fears.
Refrain
sepia memories have come and gone
reflecting upon my days now halcyon
soul has grown through time’s refrain
and my heart now beats a tolerant, gentle rhythm,
for it knows of love, of joy, of sorrow's schism.
its chambers beating with strength of life’s true wisdom.
Refrain
sepia memories have come and gone
reflecting upon my days now halcyon
Witty words keep me sane
A giggle eases, life’s pain
When times are trying
Laugh through the rain
Reroute the grooves
Soften the grain
With faces stiff
A snooty drift
Good humor sees
Life is a gift
Minus a grin
Hard work won’t win
May spot the crowd
But won’t fit in
So when you choose
Smile over frown
You’ll lift the blues
A joyful sound
DUST PIXIES INSIDE GRANNY’S CEDAR CHEST
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Amidst the ancient whispers of timeworn wood,
underneath time and the cedar’s scent
a gathering of dust pixies flutters, luminescent.
adventurous, bubbly, curious, daring, effervescent.
Their xerophytic murmurs fill the attic air;
dancing on sunbeams upon gossamer wings,
these aerial acrobats ballet on dust motes illuminantly.
flecks glimmer, hundreds invade jubilantly.
Prismatic creatures of color, lively as summer’s breeze,
they celebrate the dust, mundane
journeying through mystical realms where they reign.
kaleidoscopic, luminous, microscopic, numerous, opulent.
Zipping back into the cedar’s shadows,
innocent guardians of memories hide in forgotten linens,
their fleeting glimpse of magic locked away.
playful, quirky, restless, synchronous, twinkletoes
Entering a singing contest would fill me full of woe
I’m not saying singers would mock me as I would go
But I am not a crooner, as every relative doth know
I cannot carry a tune, yet I adore music so….
The Voice and American Idol are my favorite shows
I love the excited contestants and music that flows
Entering a singing contest is not for me in any way
But I love classical music and folk music every single day.
DOG CHASES TAIL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In circles goes the dog,
a furry whirlwind, tail a-wagging,
his nose to the ground, sniffing out the ghost of a bone
with no clue as to where he left it.
Ahh, the circle grows, and me thinks he’s quite mad!
Truth be told, that bone is a relic,
a trophy of nothing, a piece of yesterday's joy,
devoid of any savory delight;
yet, he’s bewitched
by the lure of that which once he had.
The quest persists, but time, the trickster,
plays its multifarious games.
Memory grows faint, but
the haze of longing remains
lost in the labyrinth of time.
Distractions dart by—a squirrel, a leaf,
But wait—what’s this? A flash of color
bounces by and the spell is broken,
the quest for the bone forgotten,
distraction wagging his tail.
And so he circles, a furry Sisyphus,
chasing phantoms in the grass,
he sniffs, snorts, and spins—
a canine circus act.
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