Rain has laid the leaves out beside its long dead tears.
The sidewalk is sick, slick with the drowned.
The war last night between all belief systems
and daylights harsh flush of reality - is over,
finally, there is peace beneath our feet,
as heads down,
we walk above the bone-hard truth of ourselves.
Stark leafless branches
against a steel-blue sky
hauntingly alive
Don’t let the worms touch the brittle petals,
Just blow them to my empty palms
As gentle dream. I can no longer settle
Be lonely as a leafless stalk.
And coltsfoot not roses,
Just coltsfoot surround me
And nothing comes close
As close as a dream comes.
It rains all over our roofs and our raincoats
And we might fall or wither away,
I long for the time,
for the night when the moth comes
But hope for a visit of an insect less gray.
And coltsfoot not roses,
Just coltsfoot surround me
And nothing comes close
As close as a dream comes.
The life of all companies starts with an idea, much like planting a seed that begins the life of a single tree.
The tree slowly develops and occasionally produces a leaf, while all alone primarily a leafless tree.
The tree continues to grow and produce more leafs, this is quite indicative of individual growth, the makings of a vibrant tree.
Braving both the fall and winter the tree primarily remained leafless; however, prosperity occurred during the spring and summer, overshadowing what was obviously a false weakness.
Prosperity revealed itself through the production of countless more leafs -- nature's demonstration of talent and commerce, the spectacle of a completely leafed tree.
.
Listen
please listen
Can you hear it
it’s the crackling
of the sparkles
in mine eyne
Need i say
more
*)
A role is fashioned for each of us homosapiens to portray
Though what if such a role ‘twas fashioned
by a fallacious organization of fabulists
Who decode billions of renditions of one monograph
for narcissistic purpose of monetary gain?
Naked fidelity shan’t be placed upon a hollow existence
Nor should verses be fibbed
Why can’t religion be real again?
October is crowned with glory.
She is touched with Heaven’s glow.
The seasons declare her rise to glory
Her majestic laurel-leafed crown in
magnificent display, with jeweled leaves adorned.
O northern wind, command her before thee to bow, and
cast forth her golden crown.
Lay her upon forest floors of crushed velvet brown.
Her reign deposed she now lies in November’s leafless repose
for Brian Strand's contest
1st place win
Note: some how my poem and comments were
completely erased
.
leafless elm
dresses in shimmering frost
rhinestone tiera
For Charles Henderson's Haiku Contest:
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