bright red sunrise
lends fuchsia to blue sky....
stillness in air
soon sun will heat earth
a hot middle september day
golden light recedes
a gentle sigh the breeze makes~
nature`s cycle spins
the day`s orb, once fierce
now tells a quieter tale~
mountains a witness
tall trees toss a moan
summer reign reaches its end~
time begins to bend
before amber blush
leaves sing with a buzzing sound~
the sky lends its ears
sunbeams softly fade
cicadas cease their loud tunes~
stillness in the night
birds prepare for flight
warmer climes waiting for them~
summer`s sweet farewell
summer softly close
a string of moments held dear~
memories remain
a final warm breeze
carries scents of sun baked earth~
harvest time at hand
air, once thick with scent
carries cool whispers to space~
a prelude to fall.
'All you need is love'
or so they said (sang) in song
as love conquers all
now don't get me wrong
it may change your outlook
perspective or point of view
for better or worse
as distance lends enchantment
a blessing or curse
yet we hold this self-evidence to be true
and yea verily music be the food of love
according to your taste
but take heed do not fall in love
for it will stick to thy face
With apologies to; Lennon & McCartney and William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
On a hill far away
In the meadow where children play
There will be no more color
The blind shall all see
It will be Jesus’s hand’s
That will lead us to the promised land
The angel’s we will see from up above
Jesus died on the cross
Where no worry was lost
There will be no more tears
Just the goodness we shall feel
When he lends out his loving hands
For he knows all of our hearts
Also, the time we depart
He will kiss all of the children’s little faces
Oh, what mercy and grace
We shall see at the place called heaven
Softly, starlight slippers through silver leaves,
salving slender branches where willows keep their weeping vigil.
A sighing wind weaves grief’s misty purple veils,
hesitantly floating before sweeping down;
valley tears, fern quivering, blend with those heavy clouds weep.
Moss in variegated green feathers, paves paths primitive,
moonlight lends gray gloved hand to guide faltering feet,
trembling on cliff-sharp edge of blackest night,
stumbling forward, tracking an unmapped grief labyrinth.
Heart of mine, spent by the merciless beat,
lean hard upon hoarded memories, bittersweet.
Life, after such sharp parting, shields her flame,
tended as a mother tends her sleeping dear,
softly repeating through the night one poignant name
that only she who bore the pain can hear
in accents of the heart so sweetly clear,
echoing faint chords from the heavenly sphere.
Perhaps time dulls the sadness, keen,
or drives it deeper to a place unseen.
Copyright, July 1, 2026
Celeste the star dealer, shan't see thy stones while hidden amongst them, that which can't quite compare, and so the par Ra blooddrop stone withers and moans and groans for old irons that beat beets into gnashed up fire-up pyres, and lends that teardrop once in time, the par for the course, the greensward vine.
The duality of the Gemini,
is a quite test to keep one's heart in mind.
A wanderer who wonders who am I?
An answer he knows he may never find...
A soul caught between one's past and future.
Where he stands lends light to where he's going.
In this twi-life, he has found a suture.
There's no life to live in always knowing.
Be it by chance or choice, he rides the winds,
they mold perspective and reality.
Is life living? I suppose it depends.?
The sands of time hold all mortality...
A polarity exists within me;
A complex mind set on simplicity-
My angel takes away my pain
And gives to me the love I treasure;
My angel comes to me like rain
And gives to me delight and pleasure;
My angel sprinkles me with stars
And then illumines me with sunshine;
To Venus, Jupiter and Mars
We fly and carry in our passion;
My angel lends a helping hand
And gives the solace to the needy;
My angel looks to sea and land
And in them all creation heeds - and
When we are talking, all is right
And then we are birds of a feather -
In day, in twilight and the night
Me and my angel soar together.
The sour with the sweet makes a good palate,
Aroma with the breeze has a dreamy fill great;
Odd with the even sounds might make a muse
While scattered colours in order, often do fuse
Thus forming the whole out of shards lost apart
And diffuse well on the cryptic imagination chart
All goodness may go ignored with full timidity
As aversion lets down the innate noble quiddity ;
Unless foiled by a vice that lends a salty contrast
Stangely,things warped are liked crazily too fast;
And a faultyoddity in an unfeigned just act or fact
Is often savoured and passed on with rich impact
Sheer, pristine things manifest though,are queried
And a dubious,sham,masked present is unparried
A flaw makes the good sufferer, to heights swell
While a virtue in an evil one casts no such spell
The domain of percepts is a mingled motley set
Perhaps picking the sorted and the lost ones yet
—Praesens, Expenditus, Absolutus—
Chronos coils like molten aurum through our grasp,
its heft cognizable only in the pulse of Time.
No antecedent lends credence, no futurity preserves;
the contemporaneous alone adjudicates its coin against our marrow.
Respiration becomes legal tender; heartbeat, the irrevocable contract.
Each gaze, each gesticulation, a transient negotiation,
flaring and collapsing like ephemeral markets of umbra
we cannot master, only apprehend.
We discourse in fragments—chronicles of hours and quanta—
as if the ledger of existence might be reconciled.
Yet the cosmos remains uncounted, its obligations
inscribed in luminance and silence, trembling in its own shadow;
And in that tremor, we are born, spent, and unmade,
clutching the coin of now in trembling palms,
investing neither in timorous regret nor avarice,
for the treasury of eternity resides exclusively in immediacy.
Once the convulsion subsides, stasis returns.
We stand, unborrowed and unbought,
observing the inexorable flux of aeons,
and apprehend: naught endures save that which is expended righteously.
After I coach ‘Go Far’
(a running club)
I lie in the tub
and fold my wet hair
over my face
and try to breath
through seaweed
like a mermaid
enjoying the water
in my mouth.
I am not hiding
behind a curtain
of soaking brown,
but relishing
in my own privacy
and long, dark tresses.
‘All the Pretty Girls’
is playing
by Kaleo.
“Life is anything
but fair. Life
is anything
but fair.”
I love
today, and
“all the hidden”
secrets, inside
and outside this
low-middle class
bathroom.
“No one lends
a helping hand.”
I laugh alone at my own
bad jokes and puns
while I make coffee
from the breakroom
Keurig machine.
I will always
“wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait”
for my shadow to
catch up.
He who gives
to the needy
lends to
the Lord
What the moment
forgets
Heaven
remembers
Fortuitous
bounty
awaiting
us all
When giving
not taking
eternity
— tendered
(First Book Of Prayers: January, 2026)
From a small town in eastern Italy,
A dessert was born, beloved steadily.
Named from the Italian “tirami su,”
Meaning “pick me up,” “cheer me too.”
A medley of classic ingredients combined,
Handcrafted with skill, seasoned by time.
Egg yolks and sugar softly entwine,
Forming a base indulgently fine.
Mascarpone lends its silken embrace,
A creamy richness time can’t erase.
Coffee arrives with bold, dark flair,
Soaking Savoiardi beyond compare.
Marsala, Kahlúa add depth and punch,
A spirited touch to this decadent bunch.
A harmony layered, delicate yet strong—
A timeless dessert where all hearts belong.
Now let us speak of Limoncello tiramisu, bright and bold,
A modern whisper to a classic old.
Limoncello syrup works its gentle art,
Swapping tart restraint for citrus heart.
A sunlit dessert, vivid and light,
A refreshing turn on a recipe time-worn by night.
Crowned with candied lemon, golden and fine,
Pure summer captured in each spoonful divine.
From coffee’s depth to citrus light,
From velvet dusk to sunlit bite,
Each layer tells a story true—
Of comfort found, of joy renewed.
In every spoon, a moment shared,
A taste of Italy, lovingly prepared.
An arm around one’s shoulder lends comfort;
a hand reaching out lifts somebody up;
a big bear hug shows loved ones affection.
Hand in hand, small children walk to school.
One day, their hand gingerly will touch
that of the one for whom their fondness grows.
Fingers trace the face and stroke the body
of the darling they share sweet kisses with.
What is love without some physical touch?
Boom! something happened
Something said a thousand times
Running up, ready for action
but as always, nothing really happened
As always it's quiet,
always cold and lifeless,
lonely
and it gets old
Every morning i wake up
invigorated, excited
it lends to the
the anticipation
the adrenaline, nerves
shaky hands
all absent
instead it all leads to nothing
to disappointment
with all the beers drank
Cigarettes smoked
laughs shared
the faith to raise an ego
is it adequate?
is it truly just fraud
an imposter even?
tell me
what will you do?
when it's loud
explosive, and warm
New, even
when Boom! Somethings happened,
and for real this time
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