Belove'd, from out such foam
One first emerged, giving rise
To our bond's feeling
Know, too, wave-full, wave-shattered
What's brought us healing.
Covered, our bare feet with it
Up to our knees cool laved, till
Totally immersed
Of praiseful glee, giggled through
That heard for, dispersed.
.
welllll
okay
edvard look'd
though
'twere who
hern
point'd to her
panniez wear
write
thuh flower were
volüminous
laved
it
O, why did I fall for you, O' sun,
When my soul is nestled in the deeps?
Agape and afraid, my eyne mosey deeper still; they run,
Yet on the colder current your warmth invitingly sleeps.
The distance that defies the divine betwixt us
Somehow is no occlusion for you to reach me,
But gods 'gainst me guarding your gates, and hope's quietus,
Make my valentines reaching you an impossibility.
Somehow still, suffocated in these sorrowful seas,
I seem to mishear the rhythm of your limpid light
As a melody yearning to find the lost keys
To my manacles and enrapture me with your sight.
When finally I undo these tethers for you,
The cosmos Herself derides my dolorous deeps
Laved in a longing that over millennia grew,
And shrouds your smile with a prejudiced eclipse.
But I see you clad carnally in that cerecloth--
Why?--stoking the gypsy in me with your misconstrued call.
Why did you build that stairway of light and masquerading troth,
That I so eagerly took, thus perishing in a fall?
Pale daughters
don't follow their familial duties
or wash behind their ears
laved in white light,
they sport a smile, when necessary,
compelled by an accidental mischief
pencilled in exclusion,
rendered in the shade
we wouldn't go dancing on the almost air.
a young wing flutters
warmer nights laved in moon beams
spring's new soul takes flight
03/01/2019
Spring Haiku Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchen
2nd. Place
A GYPSY'S LIFE
A gypsy am I, as I rove on the downy dale;
Aside from the taverns, the fields are my only vale.
I drink from my carafe a fairy-fermented brew,
And I dream of fair love, beneath a radiant sky of blue.
I carry within my satchel a book of romantic rhyme;
I wield it when I may, and write as I did of old: -
Of a sable-haired girl, whose gaze is of a raven-gold.
Her dress is white and long, and her hair is of an elysian clime.
I am struck by visions beside the lane,
On starry October nights, laved by the autumn rain,
And I sleep beneath the myrtles, musing on her kiss.
I have searched for her in ethereal bliss.
I have seen her face in dreams, wandering on the shore,
And the specter of her beauty, passing on the moor.
John Lars Zwerenz
J-ust let God change your life,
O-r you stay in the night;
S-laved by iniquity,
Y-ou won't see the
L-ight.
R-equest God to reform you,
U-ntil you're free from sin;
T-hursday thirty-first of August,
A-im not to lose but win.
Q-uest for the peace of mind,
U-sing not the strife;
I-mplore the Lord to redeem you,
O-r let God change your life.
Trere stands a man who's brave. Had many close shaves, wasn't at all afraid, not even of the grave.
He was a total knave, would always misbehave because he was downright depraved.
He would rant and he would rave like he belonged in a cave. He thought he had it made, not knowing to sin, he was a slave.
Til one day, he had a crave but someone else needed a fav, he couldn't understand why? From his heart he gave
Then he was hit with a shockwave, from that moment he was saved.
Now he's no longer depraved cause he was laved and now his way is paved.
No more to sin, a slave for he know The Lord forgave.
How long to sin will you be a Slave.
F-reed from the chain of sin,
E-very sheep is forgiven;
L-ord Jesus' blood will bring
Y-our soul to door of heaven.
A-ugust eleventh Friday,
B-ondage of sin is broken;
A-lmighty God accepts you,
S-o your heart will be open.
T-he freedom from sin
I-s a gift from up above;
L-et your borrowed life
L-ive in faith, hope, and love.
A-llow your mind to think the deepest thought within;
S-laved by the dark before, now freed from the chain of sin.
Sunlit water frolics
over a stone-strewn base.
Chattering waters,
playfully tumbling children
on a high hill, rolling down.
Both translucent and opaque
blues and greens magnified
by reflection, slice-cut by refraction,
laved with a satin-wetness; stones color,
beginning where, ending where;
I am not to know.
High mountain waters
strained of impurities by crystalline sand
gilded purveyors of bountiful imaginings:
leaf boats with twig masts, brilliant red-purple
chiton-backed beetles float, lost sailors.
Sunlit waters dance, smile-seekers,
laughter-breeders; water falls
ever
on.
First Published in Pyrokinections Spring 2013
Monsoon sunshine!
The first rain this
monsoon
Was sunshine
To me.
For It awakened
In me
A goal!
Washing the
Muddle:
The tussle
Of Being.
After the
Clear sky laved in
Silver drops,
The scent of
Earth remains.
And my slate smells
Clean and fresh
To learn
The newest
Lesson!
HEAVENLY SHOWERS
She was sun-scorched,
Seared and parched,
Aching for heavenly showers!
Delaying, dithering, though, at long last
He relented, bowed.
He laved her with love,
Soaking all her heat
In his own pores.
He caressed the hearth.
The sky kissed the earth.
She was now radiant,
Ravishing…
Reciprocated now she-
A waft of love from her bosom, at long last
Rose up towards him.
Soaring high and high.
The earth kissed the sky.
Will I find my sky?
Akin, somewhat
to childhood tale of avian maidens
molting downy wings in haste
lest mortal eyes espy them
bathe in waters silvered
by the lunar light,
and having laved would vanish
winging with the night winds,
to the vastness, infinite,
the stars, east of the sun,
west of the midnight moon.
For we,
like them, have shed our fabric
wings to swim in pools of dusty
tungsten light in rooms,
and having loved, would gather
plumage strewn in haste, preen,
part with furtive glances, both
to blend, diverge in traffic din,
the fumes, the dust swirling,
the smog, west of the moon,
east of the setting sun.
Between plowing through the day's mania
and ingesting mouthfuls of splendor;
you Lady Monarch, an avid adventurer,
on a brief sojourn tempt with your
phenomenal beauty and finesse in motion.
You fondle only a few of its white
ambrosial blooms while waltzing
with the mellow wind, which laved
the air and spirit with only
a slight scent of jasmine.
Your poise and allure,
earnestly begs me; your spectator,
to the leisurely, winsome movement
in gentle rhythms; pushing back my pointless
irritations in order to furnish untroubled reflections.
Yet never enough time--
now you must depart,
but I am sharply fixed upon your
physical grace as you take off;
I'm wonderfully touched...
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