simple
refined
unapologetically elegant
words used to describe a beauty that lingers within
buttons
freckles
width of a finger
hidden in quiet places for only the astute to see
folds &wrinkles, shadows &seams
soft borders that hold back a grace that overflows
sifting
straining
gently seeping flow
a pouring out of details to light the world around
Hard, Cold, Unkind or Uncaring.
Unknown things that cannot encroach upon brilliance
tender
thoughtful
meek &mild
understated pleasures both in gift and in receipt
shifting then lowering… an upturning of the face
balancing by the unspoken order of levels in space
asymmetric and undulating - slightly askew
unexpected effects of a stunningly natural stance
corners
quiet
peace or solace
found only by those who would venture to seek
November's cold wind fuels December's freeze,
although the sun is still beaming golden rays.
On a canvas of leaves, Jack Frost tints the trees,
as longer nights encroach upon shorter days.
November dips its brush in a golden sun,
gilding green canopies before it is done.
And Autumn leaves are a visual delight;
a splash of color, preceding Winter's white.
Chilly mornings whisper secrets to the grass,
while frost glitters like shards of glittering glass.
Fleeting hours of warming sunlight swiftly pass,
beneath a sky of azure and fading brass.
Nature's winds laden with snow and freezing rain,
shun the sun, welcoming Winter's bitter reign.
Yet, topaz beams struggle through the cloudy grey,
to light the world before Day is chased away.
How long must I cry inside
How many times must I die in this life
How often will I fall short
How many dreams must I abort
How many empty nights must I endure
How many second guesses before I am sure
How long will this nothingness last
About as long as this emptiness has
How much longer must I be alone
How much longer can I hold my own
On what day will I feel alright
On what day will I have my white knight
In which hour will I feel content
At which time will I stop my descent
When can I expect a blessed event
How much longer can this go on
How much more can this sorrow encroach upon
Winters Call
The leaves of autumn act out in defiance
Clinging to their branches, desperate to remain
Their brilliant red and gold has now grown rusty
Their voices rustling glumly in the trees
Chilling winds encroach upon the landscape
A prelude to a season yet to come
Preparing a new canvas on which nature
Will create a new and brilliant pastel theme
Pale blues and pinks and whites soon overtake us
Icy fingers pinch color to our cheeks
Sounds of the season seem to speak more softly
Muted by the presence of the snow
Life’s tempo moves now with a quickened cadence
A new urgency is added to our tread
We surrender to the pristine hills and meadows
And embrace a world alive with Winters breath
There is one thing I have noticed recently.
Some of you do not know the meaning of “private property”.
If you attempt to encroach upon my land,
I will just have to act and take a stand.
My team of pit bulls has been trained to attack.
They will maul you whether you are white or black.
Each one of them has a voracious appetite.
They are always hungry, and are not afraid to bite.
I am a very good marksman. That is what many people say.
I can shoot a flea off a dog from a thousand yards away.
You are never safe no matter what your position.
My gun is ready and I have plenty of ammunition.
However, if my dogs don’t get you and my aim is bad,
you will be in for a time that will really be sad.
The police will be here any time of night or day.
They will arrest you and haul your ass away.
You had better pull some lucky cards in your game of rummy.
The last thing I have to say is, “GOOD LUCK DUMMY”.
My inner person desires and seeks
innovative words softer than roses,
lovelier than the skies of spring, louder that the voice of Moses...
then see me anxiously run when the cathedral's bell rings!
My inner person needs serenity more than a friend,
the peace that God created along with His infinite universe;
how blissful is the day coming to a peaceful end,
to admire the fireflies engaging in streaks of luminescence!
My inner person is not obliged in any way
to please others other than the One who is mindful of me;
doesn't obedience and trust in Him bring elation?
Many are too wretched and faithless to deserve His compassion!
My inner person is the robin's song which welcomes spring,
and we both are the early risers to discover a dazzling morning...
emerging from a sea where sunrays encroach upon its rippled waves,
as the gulls' shrills rent the stillness to subdue any unwanted elusiveness.
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