Long Chards Poems

My receptive wide adoring eyes rested within the ambient light and bathed in The Shadoe and shade of the scene
Where before me a paragon of sublime refined  beauty 
So sensually seductively and arousingly delightful...

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Home is where . . .

The heart and reason mould into one and the same mirror of harmony

. . . the Golden Mean and centre of gravity as long as life’s turns spin around 

....

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in the dungeon of my mind stretched forth the enemy rob you blind
in certain pillars through the windows chased back the film of you heart
put your head down to magic through the pillars diced on...

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She crawled thru dry barren
Desolate landscapes
Only to find the only doorway
To a mangled soul
Intense were her intensions
To peak into the abyss
Of my darkest hours
Of sleepless nights
She come bearing
Torch and visions
The burden to Love
Empowering me
Solely.

If left...

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through the long lens we often will bask
into the trash...,
a gift to renew;
in borrowed basement pews

insde we often will ponder
a common call from up yonder
in velvet skies beneath the toil
transfixed with lucid dreams & hay

a...

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TERRIBLE VISIONS came to me RESERVED for mothers and daughters
of the glass mirror shattering with a low hard coughing sound sending
chards of broken glass into my stomach
the horrors of the INQUISITION are nothing compared to...

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Oh, What Is Life?
(Written for  Kay Collier McLaughlin-With gratitude to Thomas Merton)———
What?  What is life?
No concise, assuaging answer comes.
For there are no stepping stones outside
For a clear, examining view...
Except, perhaps, to wander through
Our...

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I walk around in my mental cage
Grasping unto fictional bars
Circus animal on a stage
Freedom is bottled in crystal jars
Prison time, time prisoner, we share visual chards
Watching out the same telescope
Trying to catch falling stars
We make...

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One minute, one hour, one day, one life
The same face, the same eyes
Ask this baby born what does he want to be
When a grown man in a world full of insanity

He had dreams and lives...

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Rhyming is not hard for me.
Neither is light poetry. 
Lucky that way.
OK, the stanza count's three.
Rhyme scheme is A A then B.
Lots more to say.
Where is this going? We'll see.
Dr. Suess seems to guide me
along...

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In my December youth,
growing bolder in my ascent:
I took charge to bleed my faults.

Broken pieces of pride like chards,
disregarded in my December onslaught.
Locking my inner child in a vault.

Coming to an end on the heels...

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As I'm reeling
 I threw up my in word sides 
Puking up 
The infallible spiritual meta physical environment chards
Some may call it gross 
The wrenching purgings coming out of my mouth 
Through my throat 
I...

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