At the city park,
the playground gleamed
beneath a ruthless summer sun~
all steel and consequence.
The jungle gym was
a mountain range of
hot rungs and skinned knees.
The slide could blister
the backs of bare legs by noon.
But the merry-go-round
was legendary!
A circle of metal bars
spun by us wiry kids
who believed speed itself
was a worthy ambition.
We ran alongside,
shoving hard,
then leapt aboard,
breathless and triumphant.
Those who held on
stayed.
Those who didn't
left in spectacular fashion~
rolling through dirt and crabgrass,
wearing gravel
like temporary medals.
No one explained the rules of survival.
The machine did that.
Round and round,
it taught us
what childhood rarely says aloud:
The world moves faster than expected.
Grip what matters.
Laugh when you fall.
Climb back on.
Years later,
I understand why I
so vividly remember
the merry-go-round~
Not because it carried me,
but because it let me go.
"There is nature, shade-repressed
Shyer expressed".
That wall, beyond, one's face, too, in
Sweet violet's, hid?
"Moss-damp, but of none such crept
Slug, snail-eyed wept".
Which path, to whose doorway as well
Soon, love-gleamed, mid?
The sun shyly peeked over the hill
as the cold air made whispers audible
and dissipation began to rise from the dunes.
The morning breeze stirred flurries of sand from dunes
where shadows stubbornly clung to the face of the hill.
A susurrus from the copse barely audible.
Upon the bench in the lee of fickle dunes
the old brass plaque gleamed in rays cresting the hill:
an inscription of grief no longer audible.
Ridged hill of letters, promises audible among dunes.
¦¦¦ years are ¦¦¦¦¦¦ creeping ¦¦¦
Beneath ¦¦¦ summer sun;
Yet, ¦¦¦¦¦ in silent love and peace
Our lives ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ run.
Beyond ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ veils the coming years
I see no ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ clouds, nor falling tears.
Beside life's river we ¦¦¦¦ stood
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ side by side;
Where ¦¦¦¦¦ roses bloomed ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
And gleamed the lily's pride,
¦¦¦ happily ¦¦¦¦¦ we've plucked the ¦¦¦¦¦ wild flowers
while ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ passed away the sunny hours.
¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
With ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ hope of youth;
God grant thy heart may never know
Aught but ¦¦¦ purest truth.
Keep ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ soul its faith and ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ love
Until they ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ bloom in heaven above.
Beside the river ¦¦¦¦¦ we stay
¦¦¦ swift the hours fly ¦¦¦
While ¦¦¦ upon the ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ banks
¦¦¦ flowers silent lie.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ beyond the mist, our longing eyes
¦¦¦¦¦ seek ¦¦¦ gleaming walls of paradise.
(Blackout of Irene by Fannie Isabelle Sherrick)
Dusk darker themed—
Eventide, where I drifting, dreamed
Softly sighing, stars arcing gleamed
Moonlight and shade pass over me.
My life and day now pass away
While in the glooming dusk I lay
Time abides till our final day
Then whisks us up and far far away
Into that darkness flecked with light
Seeking our place midst starry night
Silently roams the meteor,
Left to right—
Pray, a gleeful soul taken flight?
Far far above the moonlit blue
Turned the living orb, shining-new
Passed the horizon a glow endue
The Sun, golden, dawning into view.
It gleamed gaudily a worldly eye that did not see beaten hot metal in the forge, through the window in the back of the room lit, was the young girl's zepher stone retrofitted for glitz, like gamey sorted clothes that have been run by the huntress, should Athena ever stake claim in the orchard's abundance.
A crystal path I paved
to the realm of futile triviality
along the contorted contours
of the disguised desire
where intrepid roses bloomed
amidst the spiculed cactus,
the scent took me on mirage trail
to the oasis of reverie.
In the motif of morphed image
in my unclosed eyes
the lanced landscape turned
into a garden of glory.
The fringe of flying clouds
captured the colors of horizon’s pallet,
the beguiled breeze conducted
the captivating concerto of twilight
for the ruby moon to rise.
Within my deepening dismay
you in my orbit gleamed
with moonshine grace,
while the floating tinsels of silver dust
fluttered like fairy wings
on your silhouette face.
In mystique night you came enticed,
drifted with argentine flair
in the amorous aurora
of the sequined moonbeam,
lifted the shroud of secrecy,
entered my forlorn abode,
where I dreamed,
I was the full moon in your sky.
Traffic lights gleamed dark red
What was I ever thinking?
It was a cramped party, hallways smelled of whiskey
Sound of the bass boomed on down from the kitchen
You stole my glance so quick, didn't even bother asking
Like an amazed crowd, my eyes were stuck like tape
Your clamping steel grip led me to your flashy car
Rows of young women wearing lace robes
Didn't you say this was just a small dinner?
You whisper a sentence, then line us all up
This isn't the romance I thought I deserved
You love some textbook more than your wives
Is this my home or a cruel trick I don't get?
Veiled and draped in a gown, mute and helpless
My eyes do the talking which I cannot do
That same blue Mercedes drives me to Valhalla
Revolts and protesting got us to the top
We lead this group better than he ever did
The rain swept through
on a winter's day
leaving sky and land
well broomed.
Bluest blues were
heaven's hues
while grass and
trees gleamed green.
Sidewalks shimmered
as fallen leaves shivered,
the day the rain swept
through.
High above the clouds, a
magnificent, giant rainbow
named Roy stretched across
the sky.
Unlike ordinary rainbows
made of light, Roy was made
entirely of delicious, fruity flavors!
His bright red stripe tasted like
sweet strawberries, while his orange
gleamed with zesty tangerine.
Children looked up with watering
mouths as the yellow stripe rained
down lemon- drops.
The bright green band tasted
like crisp sour apples, making
everyone twist up their faces.
Sailors on the blue ocean licked
the air, tasting waves of refreshing
blue raspberry slushy.
The deep purple stripe at the
very bottom wrapped the hills
in a rich, grape- jelly mist.
Birds loved flying through Roy,
coming out with feathers smelling
exactly like sweet watermelons.
Whenever the sun shone through
a light rain, Roy would host a giant,
sky- high taste test.
He was the most popular bridge
in the world, bringing delicious
smiles to everyone below.
Steampunk Christmas cat jingled her gears in her helmet hat
Her brass and copper gleamed in her Jules Verne steampunk flat
The mice loved this, for they heard her coming and running
It gave them time to lie under their beds, pretending to be sunning
She never caught them after the day she became a steampunk addict
The best day ever said the mice, wandering from barren basement to attic
Too bad you don’t have a Steampunk cat they told their neighbor, Belief
He was always barely escaping from his evil mean tom cat named Grief.
They built their homes of crystal praise,
Then sold us bricks of shame.
Each window gleamed with spotless haze,
While every neighbor took the blame.
The mayor preached of modest needs
From a throne of imported gold.
He watered plastic virtue seeds
And called the harvest brave and bold.
The gossip queen wore angel wings,
White feathers pinned with spite.
She blessed the town with wholesome things,
Then sharpened rumors every night.
The preacher cursed the gamblers' vice,
His sermon fierce and loud.
Yet counted silver twice and thrice
Behind a curtain, safe from crowd.
We watched them hurl their polished stones,
A sport the righteous love.
The glass sang back in cracking tones
Like judgment from above.
By dawn, their mansions sparkled less,
The fractures plain to see.
For every saint who plays at perfection
Leaves fingerprints on hypocrisy.
I saw a flower standing in a ray of weeds,
Beautiful, from afar, it seemed.
I stepped closer, heart filled with greed,
For I wanted that growing seed.
I tried picking it up, thorns poking my thin skin,
It pricked me, it hurt me, yet I still wanted to hold it,
Because it's beauty pulled me in.
I saw a girl, standing in a crowded room,
Her eyes gleamed, beautiful, she seemed.
I stepped closer, heart filled with love,
Yet my mind wanted me to go above.
And now I realise, I am that flower,
And she is the person holding it,
I hurt her, through my words, through my actions,
Yet she still holds me close.
But to her, the beauty of the flower is beyond compare,
Even if the flower can't see the same reflection anywhere,
It blooms, it gives light,
But inside, the flower isn't alright.
"No sight is more provocative of awe than is the night sky."
- Llewelyn Powys
Tonight it seems as if moonlight sings
and stars surround her in nocturnal musings.
Would that I were an angel with feathered wings,
I'd fly to bask within the golden light of her haloed rings
I stood in awe of her without askance
Mesmerized by the sight as if I was in a trance
Agasp of the night's celestial beauty with each glance
I imagined they were enjoying their cotillion with a dance
Suddenly a shooting star took the stage
in a solo ballet, it's swan song earned with age
Brilliantly it gleamed with flames as if it was in a rage
I was breathless watching it glow, then its death to assuage
From shadows, I quietly observed them tonight
watching the heavenly gems shining ever so bright
as the moon glimmered and stars shimmered their light
I was amazed by the magnificence of the breathtaking sight
In the splendorous sky of my halcyon heart,
shimmering with the glow of argentine art,
like the sequins of the moon you sparkled,
I absorbed your seraphic sheen hewn.
In scorched sky above the wasteland of my life,
cumulus clouds hovered as rainless clumps.
In their smoldering shadow
a desert spawned in my heart.
At its fading fringe in the oasis of yearning
you became the mesmeric meadow in my heart
where I traced a turquoise trail of dulcet dreams,
discerned the lattice of my love engrave
the enticing emblem of the blooming rose,
with its patina eternally frozen on your face.
When my golden pasture gleamed
with the eventide’s heavenly hues,
you embellished the rose buds of rapture,
I saw unfurl in your entranced eyes
with the lilting luster of covert craving.
As twilight painted the panorama of passion,
my suffused sky dissolved with sapphire serenity,
spread sensuality spectrum on your visage,
flowering as a stardust smeared scarlet rose
in the secret garden of my heart.
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