You tell me of unimaginable things,
no lungs or breath to ever unspeak.
I am pushed into sparse mindscapes,
unseen acres allow endless germinations.
Yesterday is that which obsessively remains,
where I am selflessly engulfed in tomorrow.
In my ignorance to such woe and pain,
such sorrow.
This hour reimburses everything omitted.
and I am nothing.
I am nothing, my voice is deathly erased.
You, with rigour, inducer of mortis, and angel,
of darkness, and darkness holds you, culpable,
remover of shackles, lamb to the slaughter,
a loving Mother.
Categories:
germinations, sorrow,
Form: Free verse
The necter of Gods garden
is the essence of our love
come let us inhale deeply
of her perfume
let us cultivate together
the colors
of its bed
In unity plant its seedlings
and tend her germinations
let us extract the fragrances
and robe our lives
in the sweetness of her care
kissed with her fruits
and her bouquet
how comely are her furrows
whose plantings are of love
a balm and ointment to sooth
her place of rest for all the
weary
ambrosia is her drink
and incense is her prayer
she supplies our chalices with joy
as does a spring meadow
gather her blossoms
and decorate your halls
and banquet together
in the produce of her fields
for she brings forth richly
from the storehouses of her wealth
Come pluck her fruit
and drink of her presses
her cistern flows saps of maples
and within her the tastes are sweet
source Song of Solomon
COPYRIGHT © 2011
Categories:
germinations, devotion, faith, hope, inspirational,
Form: Free verse
As each day makes a desert way
A star falls to vanish in the sky of dark
Left are the others in the groaned world of our days
As each day beams, we lack in the part.
5. When will these missing flowers be found ?!.
To those we show our tattered feet.
The Owners of Land, where our germinations were bound
Now, being the ancestors of our fruits fleet
As the breeze blows, so they die.
10. Waving to the spirit world of spell,
To leave the Lizards on lie.
Who knows who would hear tonight bell?
For the dead leaving, and the leaving dead; where is their home ?
In God’s heaven or …Devil’s hell?
Categories:
germinations, death, world, day,
Form: Sonnet