What is life but a brief and yearning flame
that seeks to be renewed by beauty's symmetry.
What is death but a portal, where the soul, like light,
repeats itself forever, more lovely than before...
a flower that multiplies like thunder into stars.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rugged
Kansas prairie
Her hands rough with dawn tasks
His fingers trace Braille on table
Austere
Schoolhouse
ink and sweat smell
of small hands learning Braille~
a language pressed on waiting skin.
Alive.
Fifteen
Scrappy children
Clarabel, Dulce, John~
syllables hauled up* from the well
sweat, tears
Drought years
Calluses, sweat,
Stiff-backed, and obstinate
Heavy with weight of wheat and words
Courage.
At dusk,
they counted heads
and sang hymns of harvest~
Only thirteen grew tall as wheat.
Strength, faith
*hauled up from the well refers to both a physical action of rescue as well a metaphorical expression of support or accountability.
I step into my fourth decade
with quiet thoughts for company.
My mother is gone
and though I move through life
shadows brush against me still.
Yet I long to reach the forgotten,
to lift weary hearts,
to lay a quiet hand upon the suffering,
strength to the poor,
and a spark for those who wander in darkness
To whisper that life…
even when cruel
is still worth holding on to.
Youth drifts away with time,
but beauty stays within—
in kindness given without asking,
in love that holds through every season,
in the light we pass from one soul to another.
That light is what lasts
what makes us beautiful, always.
It's too cold for angels to fly up here,
It's too windy to raise a fire.
Explosion?
I don't know her.
And she doesn't care who or what she destroyed.
Life is just like a shard of frozen gold,
Coveted most when it cracks and ends.
Pardon me for being so bold,
But in the end even beauty here stinks.
You live in my heart,
Always and forever,
You have pierced it with your kindness’s arrows,
Where my mind is your dart.
You are in my mind,
I have never seen anyone so kind,
Your eyes have accepted me as its guest,
Now your home is to me- My cozy nest.
You may love the Rose,
But you cannot hide when I am to you-close,
If you were my life,
I would have given it your name- Even if I have to pierce my arrogance with a knife.
You have changed me,
You deserve the credit,
You taught how to live the life of a bird free,
With such a high yet humble spirit.
Life is unique and different
As no fingerprint is the same
As no flower is same in design
They may have the same color
But varies in form and style.
Beauty is unique and different
Different race, different grace
Seasons affect its appearance
Fashion is beautiful in each culture taste
People's nice determine countenance.
Love is a unifying force on earth
It makes the people live in harmony
If there's love, there's God
It makes two steps synchronized
It connects two opposing poles steadily.
Career is the best source of economy
It boost country's internal copper
It develop ones skills and talents
It develops ones personality
It makes a country becomes rich.
When life's winds begin to fade
when that great sunlight sinks into the shade.
When your song skips to that final chord, when some think they are heading to meet their lord.
It's the final page of your longest book
the lovers eyes in the parting look.
When your temples ruins begin to cave, you've run out of all that time you saved. Your sun will hide and your moon will rise, you will feel the last closing of your eyes.
You will trace back over simple steps
of days of angst where old weary crept. Over days you gazed passed simple pleasures
a cooling breeze a silent treasure.
Don't feel the swamp of the western ways, you've breathed the air and lived your days. You've drifted through your journey blind, youve walked through the forest of your time
Rejoice in the end in the things you received
the lessons in loss the peace you achieved
The days where you felt that your body was old
The times you could channel the depths of the soul.
Today sun shined on green lush grass
The tuft reflects the fellow sun
Soft and fleshy
Scent of rose
Roams the air
Trees rough
Bush with thorns
Sky clear
Green and red apples
flowers in a ruby vase
Hues shout in stillness
and sweetest blooms, richest red
capture the laziest eye.
Vibrant explosions
in the hushed art museum
where the colors dream
Life frozen in a moment
cause red hearts to beat faster!
young birds sing new songs
new buds grow on ancient tree,
spring's beauty for all
March 31, 2022
Volatile beauties,
our fleeting lives...
What absurd wonders,
our joyful sad fates...
eternal lives,
while they last... !
You can measure your calories
not the pleasures of a full-filling meal
You can measure your steps
not the pleasures of a relaxing walk
You can measure your days of life
they say time is an illusion anyway
You can measure a lot of things
the beauty of life is often in un-measured
Within a second of her contact
I lost all feeling of combat
Her enlightened energy entered me
Touching me like a warm bath
Her synergy centered me
A balance that didn't teeter
I whispered I would never leave her
A reply with her eyes she wouldn't either
I didn't need to see her
To know why I believed her
The voice of an Angel
& the hands of a Healer
Without a single touch
I would forever feel her
Soft Caress released
My thoughtless stress in peace
Two became one in the lou of the Sun
I knew it true that Life had just begun
Life is deeper than what you want it to be.
Dreams are closer than you choose to see.
Laughs are more beautiful when shared.
Success would be more prevalent if you dared.
Patience will come more with time.
And Time,
Well, that is extremely divine.
His name is Griffin. Folks though call him “Griff”
He hails from universities of stone
Debate with him is as a smoken spliff
It leaves one’s mental faculties undone
For high o’er land and sea and distant isles
The eye of Griff doth wander wide and free
All he beholds, his intellect defiles
Dreaming disaster from the rings of trees
The seas do rise – we’re told – to drown our coasts
Though photos of past bays show nary a change
Griff terrifies the kids with tales of ghosts
That steal the frost from every mountain range
Beholding life, he see-eth only death
In forms of beauty, veiled catastrophe
That morbid gas in every human breath
Damns sinners to a lost eternity
But that dread gas – O Griff! How see-est thou not
Bringeth not death but life, that springeth green
The photosynthesis thou hast forgot
Is nourished by the thing thou call’st unclean
And so adieu, my ode to Griff is done
To that sly master of the shifting files
Of numbers spelling our Armeggedon
And yet behind that mask of doom – he smiles!
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