One tiny purple pom becoming
food for butterflies and thought
stretches out her long lilac colored fingers to get her first taste of the sun
she smiles as she blooms
The tiger swallowtail flutters excitedly around her, announcing her arrival
Allow those coffee eyes to close.
Try to visualize the sea,
a blue moon touches a sea of glass
as I draw you close to me.
See shooting stars light up the sky.
Feel my words caress your ear,
my lips stroke yours, a spark ignites,
are my thoughts becoming clear?
An evening breeze blows golden sand
as your robe drops to the floor.
The stars explode excitedly,
should I stop? Do you want more?
Soft naked flesh in midnight blue.
Fingertips run down your spine,
embrace the rush of lapping waves
as my fingers dip Divine.
Can you feel the fires burning?
Their flames samba through the night,
the native drums giving rhythm
while my tongue brings sheer delight.
Please take a moment, breathe the air.
Time to enter your confine,
I'll ride the ripples to the shore
so relax! Tonight, you're mine.
Now close your eyes and visualize
tidal waves crash over you,
your body's aching, out of breath.
Sweet release brings passion's hue.
The wages of sin are just never paid.
Try as you might you can't make the grade.
Came home from work all tired and forlorn,
My back hurts, my feet hurt, I've bunions and corns.
I've pills for my back, my neck and my shoulders,
No sense in complaining, I'm just getting older.
I rarely sleep now, I just pass out,
Then I wake with a start 'cause my dogs must go out.
The cat's waiting patiently by the back door,
As the dogs race excitedly across the floor.
Then I go to the bathroom to swallow my pills,
Half an hour before breakfast, it's my daily drill.
I bend over double to brush out my locks,
Took a coughing fit and peed in my sock.
I'm just getting old I tell myself again,
It's my punishment now for a youth filled with sin.
Family is important. We share good fun times, we share secrets, but keep some. We play games together, watch movies together on our couch, and we joke, smile and agree on a favorite film. We share our great ideas, while we listen to them thoughtfully, and we celebrate our awesome days to one another. It's time we love, remember, laugh about, and scream excitedly about. Family forever and ever, never separating, we stick together. We stick together through tough times, sad times, and silly times. We are a great family.
"At the beach - time you enjoyed wasting, is not wasted." -T. S. Eliot
It's a beautiful day at the seashore
To explore the beach on this warm day
As I walk along, hearing the ocean roar
Children are out and about at the beach to play
Seagulls are flying nearby and squawking about
Parents are out guarding, keeping them away
A whale is spotted spraying from his spout
A site seeing cruise ship stops to watch the show
While some children excitedly scream and shout
I walk along the path, where the sweet roses grow
Until I reach the hidden ocean cave
With tide pools of crabs and shells to bestow
A Seal is beached while wetted from a wave
This relaxing beach adventure is what I crave
Every time I look back before leaving a beach,
Touching the water goodbye, promising soon another meet,
I’m forced to think—does the sand get offended?
I mean, I could be just another person ignoring it,
But I don’t want to be.
So I let my hands sift through it as well.
I mean, surely it too deserves to be quelled.
No less of a journey did it undergo,
So why do we merely ask it for shells?
Maybe it has other stories buried deep within it.
Maybe it also wants us to see.
But maybe, since we never really cared,
Used by others, it has learned to be.
So as I explore its traits,
And I continue to relate,
No longer separate—I am sand, and sand is me.
Settling, scattering, yet never really gone.
And now, every time I am by the sea,
I ask everyone running towards the waves excitedly:
“What about the sand?”
And beneath the ask, an echo waits—
“What about me?”
Your ghost haunts me
Not in the slamming doors flickering light sense
You haunt me in a way that I welcome
Away where every tiara brings my mind back to you,
Every princess,
every tutu,
every time “bad boys” plays,
every unconventional dance party,
Flees my memories to the last time I saw you.
The bravest, strongest girl I have and ever will meet
The girl who never believed in a period or comma only exclamation points
The girl whose body wasn't as strong as her true heart
The last time I heard her voice
she said excitedly ”we'll do it together, I'll help you”
Neither of us aware she wouldn't show up Monday
Neither aware of the phone call that night
Neither aware those words would echo 13 years later
Unknowing that the pain that broke a young girl's spirit
Would grow with her and linger as she got older
After then everyday living felt like guilt
They said as we enjoy our lives we bring the dead with us so they never truly die
but what gives me the right to keep breathing when a light so bright had to turn off when mine was already dim to begin with ?
Pale magenta highlights cobalt clouds this morn
Crows excitedly greet crack of dawn
Doves coo in reverie tune
Springlike feel ending
Way too soon
Cold
Coming here
Winter weather drear
Then with a good book so near
No need for loneliness to appear
God will open doors, like He has done before
Andaree poetry form...
Once, Christmas Eve brought soft flurries of snow
the world soon became a majestic show
Festive trees gleamed from out of window panes
and carol singers sang in soft refrains.
Angels flew beneath heavenly moonlight
such an exquisite seasonal delight
Every rooftop glistening white and bright
on a charming celestial Yuletide night.
Church bells rang to tell folk of the best news
that baby Jesus was to arrive soon
Children tried not to fall asleep at all
waiting eagerly for Santa to call.
Yet snug and warm in cosy beds at rest
they'd shut their eyes and then softly they slept
Santa left them presents beneath the tree
and youngsters roused early, excitedly.
I remember this, though then just a kid
and often recall those moments of bliss
Times then were tough, but I'll never forget
the Christmas had, that was simply the best.
Paul Durcan passed away in May this year.
I didn't know he had existed,
Until I read his poem about the death of his father
His father loved the radio;
As does mine.
We read ourselves.
After reading his Wikipedia page,
My son and daughter excitedly burst into the room.
They wanted me to go look at something.
Did you see, did you see
Grampa said excitedly
The system works, it really works
Thank God, they’re not (yet) all jerks
Aw, Gramps, open your eyes, didn’t you see
All those folks forgoing salaries
Airline flights canceled left and right
Millions with nothing to eat at night
Yes, sonny boy, I saw, I saw
And the deal was a bit raw
But the system worked, it really worked!
Sorry, Gramps
You’ve gone blind ~ you old jerk!
Suddenly,
space becomes limitless.
Freed from a leash
a dog bounds across
the wide beach.
It runs off, madly following
whichever way calls to it
from all the compass points
of its joy. In the end, it flops
down exhausted, panting
in its happiness.
Around me, the horizon,
the sea, the cloudless blue sky
empties the mind into distance.
Far off, ships float
like anchored promises
waiting to be revealed.
Seabirds wheel excitedly
in the bright air.
In this vast arena, I go
where joy takes me.
Stuck in my bracelet,
Like strung up brains.
Eating my name in pieces, strips.
It’s been two days.
Everyone has eyes and cracking joints.
No buzz, or splintering.
Maybe just a little taste of transcension.
And me.
Sickness and burrowing.
Like the shadows do.
Tipping the burden onto my piercing brain.
Sickness is nothing like me.
My weird bracelet is like wires like me.
Rubbing my hands excitedly.
Moving my hands around as if a meteor is passing by and I could catch it…
Or even Saturn’s rings floating a couple miles north.
I could chop this bracelet off anytime.
If they gave us…
The pointy things we salivate over.
In the shower.
In the shower, it’s more brutal than ever.
Wear nothing except this…
Thing.
Sickness is nothing like me!
A little taste of transcension.
And the hasty results.
It’s been three days.
On a clock which transcends even me.
Waiting is.
The most random pile of dishrags.
Follicles of hair splitting.
Nothing moving,
Just deep, impatient sensations.
Waiting is someone similar to me.
Dragging around a laundry basket all the time,
And it’s a horrible thing,
All the clothes you tried to donate or toss.
Follicles splitting.
Spit spraying at the blank wall.
The dishrags come to life in a weird way.
Wagging their tails excitedly.
Waiting is…
Dripping, drooping cheeks that were fine an hour ago.
Then they called out my name.
And all those weird associations were weird and made me lonely, yet dreamy.
Waiting always bubbles up to the surface sometime.
For all the others too.
“conjoined with the whole
we play our life role
exuding a scent
granting love consent"
Pheromones bloom between brown eyes
Baritone voice meets satin sultry cries
Excitedly engaged on a hot summer night
With only an owl as high as hearts fly
Silver souls that grow so close and dear
The moon is aglow bringing lovers cheer
And oh how we toast with champagne near
This love is gold we have no fear
Destiny guides us in our endeavors
Like kites flies us in love forever
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