Tranquility is a tiny creature
who dances for me on the grass;
doing funny acrobatic stunts,
I love her twitchy fluffy tail;
My Lily
silly girl
sings shrilly
frilly twirls
so silly !
When you hate someone
And you still feel love
It's like burning a grass
And then still grows back.
When you control love
And you still unable to deny
It's like mowing the grass
After a few days it offshoot again.
When you befriend someone
Be sure it is mutually agreed
For when trouble comes near
Both parties can able to amend.
When you err for someone
Be humble and go to her
Never deny, ask for forgiveness
And never do it to err again.
I saw a streak of living flame,
with no regard for rule or name;
It tumbled through the morning grass,
as if the sun had come to pass.
Its paws struck earth in tiny drums,
like thunder where the daylight hums;
The wind bent low to kiss its ear,
the sky leaned down to watch it near.
It charged at leaves, then spun away,
a knight without a war to play;
Its tail a banner, bright and free,
declaring joy for all to see.
And when it stopped, and caught my gaze,
all breath was gone, all time erased;
No crown, no sword, no sky above
just two small eyes, and endless love.
a freshly mown lawn
the clippings become new mulch
the grass will thrive now
I felt like it was coming,
not through buds breaking open,
but through a softness in the air,
like a soft napkin
forgotten on the chest
of an old icon.
No one announced it
not the wind,
not the birds,
not the old woman at the corner window,
threading her days together
with a broken needle.
This spring has no footsteps,
no voice,
only the faint scent of resin
and something holy
that’s already turned to ash.
I asked my mother
if God still has seasons.
She looked at me,
then at a flower in the window
that hasn’t bloomed in years.
“I think He lost them,” she said,
“or keeps them locked inside,
like letters
He can’t bring Himself to open.”
And I understood:
not all springs bring life.
Some arrive
only to teach us
how to stay alive
without shining,
how to die
without vanishing.
A blackbird watched me
with the eyes of a child
who once saw too much light
and now
fears the sun.
And I said nothing,
like a prophet without a mountain,
carrying a single line
pressed against my ribs:
It won’t be long
before the grass
learns how to sing
about us.
every blade of grass has a memory
each yellow dandelion has her own song to sing
I marvel at the miracle of the red clover with her circular leaves
purposeful ant marches past my musings, giving me a withering look
snake in the grass is a real thing
they’ve hidden since dynasty known as ming
oftentimes knocking off the cherries bing
zapping toes with a little ting-a-ling
yesterday this was one under my blue swing
waiting with his girlfriend to have a fling
they were both much thicker than twine or string
they caught a bluejay by his slowest wing
my taser gun gave them a little zing
something to the yard which I always bring
Dropping Flowers, Blades Of Grass, And Us
Like flowers droop
but refuse to die
from the heat,
like tanned fields
subsumed in the struggle
to survive and keep
the flow of transpiration,
like the trodden blades of grass
pushing through sidewalk holes
to capture the cosmic energy
that fuels them onward
the victory they seek
to be free,
we, like all of nature,
must continue to travel
the jubilee road
riddled with imposing holes
and nullifying roadblocks
that causes us to stop
by the roadside
once and a while,
to check our engines,
water up,
and refuel our spirits
with divine wisdom
and guidance,
navigating us onward
and upward
on the paved footprinted way
our ancestors have left us
in the never ending passageway
to freedom, justice, and equality:
thus, let us buckle up,
and with eyes on the prize,
hit the pedal
along the remaining
bumpy way
of our liberation sojourn:-
in snail-pace schizoid Land of the Dying
they sometimes bake schnapps biscuits
then throw them to black cat eyeing
angels appear asking “what about fiscus ?”
they reply “we care not, passings near
roof leaks, grass not so glitter green
new shoots will bloom, Shangri-La we hear!”
“all acts account to day of goodbyes, clean
fix broken loo and cement those cracks
fill empty birdbath, then plant carnations
give your dues, do not frack
we account credit and debit, our obligations.”
dying embrace living Earth to very end
dimensions shake when you do not mend
______—_____—_____________________——
The sun sinks slow when dreaded dark overflows
giving mere mortals moments to reflect
all that passes in the day these moments take away
and each influence intrinsically inspect
we have known of old the conflict we are told
is the battle between bad and good
what is right, what is wrong, we must make morals strong
gain empathy, love, and brotherhood
if we could just see with our eyes set free,
only hear when wind whispers silent songs
there might be a better you, maybe a kinder me
in the wisdom of these quiet sing-alongs
a mother bird feeds her babies and I hear the words
rhythmic refrains ringing peace into my heart
'His eye is on the sparrows’,and more of you He knows
comfort “every little thing is gonna be all right’ emparts
Turn down the power.. if just for an hour...
sit still and hear nature sing
The rains are here, relentless as ever
The grass blade is excited like never
The season of hibernation is over
Swirling in water, as a duck dumpling
in sauce
The blade of grass has come home
A rich gourmet of moisture and nutrients
Thrusts the roots, taking its journey southward
And the shoots going northwards
The grass blade has taken its place.
As the rains continue in its season
The lush of greenery fills the reasons
Natural beauty in lyrical passion
Paradise in a paradox, Laying among
the lilies.
warm gentle breezes
grass greening and trees budding~
birds hatching their chicks
touch grass
go out
into nature
I just want to lie down
In this grassy field, do nothing
I just want to listen to my body
Reflect myself, see the sky
Observe the clouds passing my eyes
Hear the crickets sound, the wind that howls
Lonely, yes it is, but lying is good
It's value to me, it keeps me relax
It's magical, beautiful, full in its horizontality.
Great
Glowing
Green grass
Gracefully growing
God’s greeting Goodness…
Springing
Spring’s
Sky
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