as the day's end envelopes
the stars unveiling
a mystical initiation, embryonic
where shadows wait in anticipation
of the emerging moon
lingering in the mockingbird's lament
twinkling stars illuminate the path
i look over at you
adjusting the needs a car demands
Italian, Chinese, Seafood
looking out the window
returning with a playful smile
those checkered tables will do
i return a mischievous smile
putting the car into gear
i can do that
it is said you cannot step
into the river twice
the magic is when you realize
so is the night
however, the real inquiry life asks
is the magic in you
Oregon 9/30/26
From behind velvet,
curtains drawn,
I peer with,
a glowing faculty,
of sentient,
embryonic paradox,
at entranced,
visual vine creeper,
that tiptoe cagey,
post dawn revealed,
picturesque glimpses,
stickler for the blind,
who treat with,
scorn dumbfound,
paradisal plinths,
metaphors for,
mountain tower apex,
or ground level placard,
to undulating urban,
tracts lavish,
where cerulean sky,
and town gossamer
mesh
Written: June 13, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Brian Strand
********************
Amidst rhythmic glow
of smoldering cinders
whispers arise
crafting ethereal life curtain —
from ashen glyphs
veiled splinters ignite —
intertwining flames converge
conflagrant in artistic creed —
their spirits rife
with volcanic momentum
In palimpsest layers
of ember-hued ink,
banshee sighs
chiseled borne aloft —
Listen —
shifting in hidden crevices
abiding as marrow sears
awaken from virgin webs
of flame and ash —
where twilight remembers
what abyss marooned
yes — you vessel of placid vortex —
— you shrine, cauldron of static storm
greet golden glow
leaning to surging tide
crystallizing truth
chiseling your core —
morph into forged pledge
from embryonic ember
that first cast shade
on glimmering birth.
You were water before I met you, immortal as the embryonic fluids of your mother's womb
then He poured fire into your soul and you became a walking flame and salt of the earth
You were but I child knowing only childish games then you grew up and now you are wise
when I spoke to you last, you told me your little heart could not stand it anymore
You looked up to heaven and asked God to come take you away, and he did for He knew,
He had made a big mistake when He parted with an Angel such as you....
You were a star in my eye and a flower in my soul, but then one day you left as quickly
as you came, you were once water, today you are the air I breathe as I remember you...
No rosebud should ever experience a seed of fear growing in them.
Quote by poet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seed of Fear
A cryptic shadow slithers
Across a moonlit floor
Past tea parties, glass slippers
And naïve unicorns
Wearing feather boas
To reawaken a seed of fear
Deeply planted
By ashes in driving downbeats
Of thick moonbeams
That penetrates artless innocence
In a requiem for mercy.
Paralyzed in a coma of terror
A rosebud hears
The strident flute song mount
To sing an epitaph for stolen magic
As it bursts from its calyx
On rotting moonbeams
Sowing repeated ebony nightmares
By the full moon
That whirl and spin
In shades upon the ceiling
And like a thorn
The pulsing root sinks embryonic genes
Deep into shivering petals.
In satisfaction the shade withdraws
With skulking footsteps,
Oblivious to the rosebud’s tears,
Leaving pure petals wilted
In muffled agony
The callow flower’s story
Told in silhouettes
Of shadows on a moonlit wall
Each moonlit night
A ravished garden
Watered by mangled tears
A eulogy grows for ever after
In an epitaph for innocence
Written: October 04, 2025
***********
An enticing tale of Sapphire
Embryonic resin —
the dusk’s distilled desire
in marigold attire.
Etched in flame agate,
a mystic sphere—
twilight’s trembling lyre,
Its shimmer sings
to murmuring wings of swallows
as they dance
in dusk’s devout ballet.
October’s veil—
tuned in tangerine,
a hymn to night’s slow sway.
From her delicate wings a fine powder exudes and lands on the ground
by the light of the blue harvest moon a touch of Pixie Dust, in nimble magic !
Harmonious weaving, intangible strands of music coming from the sphere
sweet and beautiful arias, melodious twittering from a fairy wing's enfold
Wings not made of nylon, cellophane nor iridescent tulle but made of silk
like spider's webs tough and resilient from the Master Spinners pedipalps
Appendage wings made from embryonic liquid from ejected Neutron Stars
like butterflies they flit and fly through air currents, landing on little twigs;
Fairy dust of old as ancient as the parallels from this world to the next
dare say I, ... if ever you have been subjected to their fairy dust appeal
then flying limbs you shall receive and like it or not you will fly away
inside a land of pure magic where every thought is like a sweet reveal
From her delicate hand a sweep of the wand resting easy on your shoulder,
one single dose is feathered on you and suddenly, you are able to hold her !
Self alone is, at the singularity point
Self-existent light beyond space and time
Renewing itself within itself, It itself does anoint
This Self as luminous heart, intuits love’s chime
Creating within itself a wave of pure intent
Fulfilled instantly, as is the paradigm
God, a golden sphere, grants consent
The embryonic Self plunges into His heart
Now love enabled, exuding an ethereal scent
Moses divided the sea, that waters may part
But heaven is a unified eternal force field
Where no Self from God stands apart
Wondrous is the power God does wield
Guardian of all lights, He is our sole shield
I am the universe
Before I was, did my "I" exist?
Atoms danced in cosmic streams,
Born in stars, billions of years past,
Nuclei forged in supernova blasts.
In my parents’ cells, DNA entwined.
A code of life, billions of years refined.
Then, in my mother’s womb, I formed,
Cells dividing, channeling a form
No thought, what’s to come unknown,
A spark of life, a parasite with cords,
I ceased to be that embryonic core,
Born to this Earth, a womb yet bigger,
A world of senses, mind’s new light,
Neurons firing, 'I' getting charged
Each stage evolves—new faculties unfold.
From single cells to tales retold.
Here, too, I’ll fade, my atoms free,
Recycled through Earth’s chemistry.
To a greater womb? Will I know,
Perhaps the stars,whence It all began,
Energy derived from cosmic pool,
From Big Bang’s pulse to life’s last breath,
Forms transform, energy never dies.
Evolution Not just species, but life’s design,
Evolving through time’s endless line.
From unknown voids to known’s existence,
I am the universe, seeking its face.
Embryonic Stage
So comfy and warm
Not feeling a hint of harm
Oh, what’s happening
Birth
Good grief, it’s so cold
O’er and o’er again was told
“Beautiful baby”
Child Age
Play sports, make good grades
Life’s full of adventure days
Hates vegetables
Teen Years
It’s an awkward age
Parents struggle through this stage
Just stay sane through it
Young Adult Years
Leaving home first time
Into unknown, a steep climb
Where will it all end
Middle Adult Years
Work and family
Agony and ecstasy
Stalwart day by day
Older Adult Years
Body , soul, and mind
Seeking peace of special kind
Beyond ever known
at this point
it is a small thing
it is still thin,
still sound
not yet found,
flowing solely in the void.
Don’t you just love it, that moment in time
When you have been lacking a half decent rhyme
When sentences started do not feed the next
When what your next verse is is leaving you vexed
When that first line reads like a Shakespeare or Byron
But every line two, trips a ‘Bad Gramma’ siren
When that one idea that was smart or ironic
Turns out to be, at its best… embryonic
When nothing else gels in that dark empty space
That lingers above and behind a blank face
The grey matter there that is tired and stressed
Has let you down badly… by doing its best
When all of this and much more is the truth
Suddenly you could go dance on the roof
You dare not presume that you’ve pulled back that hood
But penning one poem feels so Goddammed good.
Right after Teddy finds a shelf,
Embryonic, soul-discovered
Comrades, introduce new rich textures.
Pondering gone epochs,
past yields of buddying,
Genuine, sounded, grounded.
Twelve seasons at first.
Eleven years this time;
Twenty before that.
Earliest mates graduate,
dispersing as their promise
seeks testing unique.
Bitter truth: mortals pass.
Not an adieu of their choosing.
Dark threshold ever looming.
A predictable measure melt away,
walking with purpose,
Seeking fresh bondings.
Finally exhausted, too often offended,
stale history revived in legendary tales repeated.
Association peaks.
A lucky few characters
Married away from connection
Bound upon a new conjugal course.
Intruding ebb tides reveal retreating
Serendipitous memory ticks.
Melancholy recalled, reflected.
Rare cronies' endurance transcends
Lifespans exacting iron fortitude
To bridge 30,000 days.
Old pals, dearies, poseurs:
Saplings to heritage oaks,
Longing remembers well.
It is you who enhance this old distance, not me
Although distance is hardly a short one to bear
It’s a mystery why we appear somewhere to be
Our arrival is eclipsed in case we’d be able to care
Be I asked, in whatever shape of the I, embryonic
Or even as a cell, I would've chosen the land of your rose
And perhaps you could chose, if you wished, this immensely platonic
Cave of mine, where I look for a light in the window you close.
Self-Portrait 1-12-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels
Still life, not stillborn,
With a woman’s face
In dusky background hues,
Pure clarity clothed in white,
Gazing on gastronomic abundance.
Artist of the banquet
One step behind –
The woman’s place of her time -
Guardian of the sweet rewards
Served like bridal wine,
Topping the earthen vessel
Of embryonic fermentation.
In a cradle of fine delft
Consummated almonds,
Mellow figs
Ripe fruit
Conceived out of ravenous rapture
Confinement released in harvest’s fare
In signatures of arms crossed -
Daily bread – gifts of finest wheat –
Served with golden curls,
Crushed seeds of grain
Birthing beauty’s fullness.
Above this feast of still life
A woman smiles
Her signature waiting to be discovered –
Waiting for the invitation to emerge
From the shadow!
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