Though it’s still partly cloudy in this street
& everybody follows the king’s fleet,
I’m following you to the ends of this world,
where I’ve replaced everything with your word,
I remain elsewhere like the empty plea
because you’re that fire burning inside me.
Though those agencies that create duets seem
to believe that a system employing well over
2, 000, 000 couples with infusions of bright visions
will need certain clearly specified characteristics
with objectives & noting costs to protect the new moon.
You’re that whirlwind blowing everything away,
that’s why in this play, I pray not to be the next prey.
I’m too late this morning & I won’t catch any bus,
though traders in their market won’t understand us.
To them, we’re actors in a tragic-comedy stage.
& we made a bold decision to try out the phage.
Give me your hands for a warmth of touch
& I won’t be in operational form in that skutch.
Give me your mouth for a kiss
when I listen to your coos.
Give me your whole body for burying me completely
when I pledge fealty.
The outcast dove sits alone, apart
From the rest of those who shared the start
Of the journey that has led them here
And left some full of dread and fear
Its bills and coos don't matter now
For the line they choose does not allow
Separation from the flock and roost
Different, and the choice - the noose
That leaves it twisting in the wind
Hanging there without a friend
That wind whose loft brought all along
And fills each lung with life and song
Allows the soul to separate
To fill, to fly, but not inflate
Yes, from the flock, but not the soul
That one lone thing we can control
Left hanging there is what is lost
Relations now the tempest tossed
Suspension left to bear the cost
Of souls refusing to be bossed
Relations never really die
They linger in that endless sky
Surrounding ev'ryone we know...
The air that lives in ev'ry soul
As you walk down the dirt path, past the tall green trees,
I hope you remember who you are when you reach the willow tree.
You will inevitably get lost, confused in the woods,
struggling to find your way to the willow.
When the light dims, the whoos and coos of owls
and other nameless creatures will hymn in your ear,
distracting you from the overcompensation of your own voice
a light whisper of overthinking,
a gentle pluck of uncertainty.
The journey is long and weary,
more mournful for the woods you walk
than eager for the destination ahead.
With fleet, you fall,
but with glory, you rise
again and again
proving you know what you want.
Unsure of what lies at your destination,
you remain purely hopeful,
your mind already hanging by the tips
of the lanceolate leaves.
The sun fades to moonlight,
and you stand in the quiet presence
of a single thought
a dream that lingered
through the walking and the withering.
Thankful for sight,
eager never to turn your back to the wilderness,
for you have reached
nature.
We spend the hours in tinge of pale
There's no tenderness quite right--
And more hazy moments prevail
Growing dimmer like snuffed twilight.
Although he's near the inky hues
Splatter into unanswered coos:
While this pained heart bears all
To feel his cold of whispers diffuse.
Shall we grate hours in tinge of pale?
This time... let me request,
The tiny stars to dart away
Beyond the ridge of moonlit crest.
My longing hands and warm embrace
Can't fill his icy space ---
How one-way is ardor's mantra
Point of no return... I'm out of grace.
Down where the privet hedge blooms
And doves sing their coos
A woman feeds the birds
Now her life resumes
God's love is an ocean
And mine a small-streamed river
The tide comes in and rejuvenates
The small stream's thirst for life
Dear Lord in your son's name
Let the water flow
And my life like spring flowers blossom
Amen
Midnight misty bluebells blossom upon starry blue
Heavenly sunrise sway with chromatic hues
Mother Mary sweetness flows with cornucopia coos
Holy Dove descends with wings dipped in divine dew
with God's instructions for His Christian crew
to dance with prayers while whispering to the world His views
Be brave! Be brave! Do not tremble and slip into the blessed shoes!
Angels embrace all upon the Lord’s lace legacy avenues
Hope harvests all soul-searching forests and leaves are renewed
with grape gardens that grasp the galaxy Holy Spirit that glues
while rose petal scripture stirs with forever steam of truth stew
The Good News!
The Good News!
Resurrection arose as victory Vines seasoning our souls true
April 18th 2025
When nightfall dips in palest of gold
I feel a sense of indignity,
As owl's melody loses its eloquence
Through the absence of a safe abode;
Where quietude calls for avian coos
The kind which never seeks to intrude…
And its orbed eyes larger than neons, freeze
In need of natue's hued, aerial parade---
Startled, bird's forest trail is washed out
By mourning dew of poison
Denying the barren woods of nourishment
while allowing thieves to skin owl feathers,
mangled talons like so, wasted ---
Wise keeper of secrets, hushing the noise.
Life marvels at your nocturnal guardianship
yet, this world shares not your moonlit toots
lithography of hills no longer owns
your delicate interludes of silence...
Man ravages bird navel, flesh , and plumes
For trading quests, for self- interest ---
Can this earthly slaughter cease
sucking nectar soil of birds dry?
Somehow, I still hail the dwindling number
of hooting owls
Which believes that the next generations
will wander on an environ,
Soaring their wings... joyously free at last.
Soft as hugs, tiny hands reach out
when the tall one comes to make the silly sounds.
Aaro forgets the dark warm place,
this new world too big.
*
Blinks at bright lights and strange faces.
Hears songs beyond the funny noises.
Wrapped snug in soft blanket folds,
Aaro wiggles on.
*
Dropping milk bubbles on fuzzy cloth, watches
shapes moving above: close enough to grab.
When sleep comes, Aaro takes a deep breath
and dreams away.
*
Sees a big face smiling in the light,
hiding then appearing with a "peek-a-boo."
Such a nice game, thinks Aaro,
it makes the big one laugh too.
*
Eyes will not stay on one thing
and wander to new colours instead:
ceiling fan spinning round and round;
herself, Aaro, a small wonder
known by warm arms.
*
Milk fills her tiny tummy. Coos escape
from lips still learning to smile.
Sleep comes to Aaro's eyes; her fingers,
wherever they reach, find something to hold.
*
A soft blanket against skin; her world,
sound-filled, simple as now.
Her cries heard always, Aaro babbles to herself
as she discovers everything new.
When Aarohi smiles
the whole world brightens.
Her face lights up
like the first morning sun
breaking through clouds.
Her cooing sounds
softer than whispers,
gentler than rain
on summer leaves,
weave stories only hearts can hear.
I watch her laugh
and time stands still.
The universe pauses,
breathless,
to listen.
In those eyes
I see everything that matters:
innocence,
wonder,
the pure joy of being.
Her smile heals
what words cannot.
Her coos remind us
of the simple miracle
of existence.
Aarohi,
your smile is home.
Your voice is magic.
In your laughter,
we all become children again.
love's
roost ~ coos woo, snuggly gloves ~
doves
Little one, little one
Who will you become?
Tiny infant in my arms
Embodiment of charm!
Oh, the dreams I have for you,
Transfixed upon this life anew.
A masterpiece, this miracle
Who’ll alter lives and through it all:
Your life will be a wondrous tale
Your journey here, has just set sail.
Cherish life, as days fly swift
Pause to ponder, life, the gift.
I love you little one, little one.
My greatest blessing, yea bar none.
Such tender coos, little sounds
yet in my heart are great resounds:
Glory, glory, glory!
sold my crux for poetic flux
to an immortal husk in a tux,
his musk was of the set dusk,
waft of an abattoir in the sun.
he ton of tone and run,
poetic stun gun and it's so fun,
coaxing to come as we begun,
this everyday smoke show pun.
all crossroads hex in texas,
misses of the vexes voodoo temptress,
dyslexic he continues his flex,
till I twist him like a pop - breaking his neck.
mex wicka wick a candle lit
to submit his payment with spirit -
definite light emits a dreamt cadence,
where his limbs go limp in menstruation.
lips stick press to succulent a test,
hollow nostril breath as lipstick vortices,
rousing muses coos in this faded faze
of alumni haze - as I maze his days away.
Some hear the songbird call,
then seek to capture her melody.
They lust to cage her and
name her Love.
NOT I.
For my search has long been silent.
My Dove coos
when the World is quiet.
She yearns like me
for one Soul to share.
Then leap and fly free.
Cooing not mourn,
but to be found.
"The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don't go back to sleep." Rumi
Clouds like rippling waves
Cover the eastern horizon
A nice cool breeze chills the air
There the sound of dove's coos upon
A distance hill, rustles up deep emotions
That murder of crows are being warned
By their very intelligent lookout
He hears the sound of danger
Truck's tires crunch going on its route
The clouds become wider spread
Adding a tenebrous feel to the scene
Only a small bloodshot eye
Through the clouds is seen
Desiring to see a sunrise cast its beauty
Sweeping all around
There is one disappointment
But joy in the cooler air I've found
Thank you God for this morning
I love the time alone with You
I could spend so many more hours
Thinking, praying and singing too
"Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Those who love with their heart and soul, there is no such thing as separation." Rumi
babe coos la-la
grabs ba-ba milk
mama sings song
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