Long Daintiness Poems
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the untimely measures gathered beneath solid
structure as hands fold the numeral gestures
gravely carved throughout the roman empire
while the daintiness of quiet muse's reciting playful
tunes through a calming poetic mannerism while
surrounding hidden notes while mastering an
illuminating symphony of words at times within
a dimly lit sphere of complete solitude ravishing the
minds eye capturing the purity of this brilliant light of
sheer salvation mending together so evenly like a woven
cloth of the unspoken speaking vividly to the quiet
understanding while the mere knowledge explored
beyond the galaxy only to return from the universe
with a boomerang effect craving matter seeking
wisdom an yet the core foundation of such yearning
still sits deep inside the heart of the muse stored
there as the mighty masons physically cannot chisel
away the outer surface once the muse has sealed
this beautiful masterpiece away for a certain time
of reflecting on poetry of the heart while the soul awaits
dances to confuse the heart into releasing such a divine
art form quickly an yet in that very moment the muse takes
holds of this fascinating poetic memory in time keeping it hostage
literally a mind written keepsake with the hope of savoring creating
a more in depth harmonic language of rhythm melody and words
hence the ability to enhance this craft into a profound literature that
will someday manifest into greatness a complete understanding for any
and everyone who simply picks up the book and desires to reads it
I search,
Am I a lost cause?
I speak to all, to friends
To enemies.
Where can she be?
My love is nowhere to be found.
I search for her daintiness,
Her dark black fringe,
Her lithe contours so marvellous.
Her red full lips.
Am I pursuing a foolish dream?
A glimpse.
That’s all I ask.
I will be in paradise.
Tell her it was just a random remark.
I love her till the end of times.
And I wander around the main streets,
Searching,
Searching.
I am not much I know,
But I need her.
I saw a glimpse of her.
She smiled.
But it could not be her!
Her hair was red.
Could she have played a trick on me?
I only see red now.
Do we not procure enough happiness in our dull lives?
When someone else is amply satisfied with themselves,
Otherwise, how much joy does one merely receive?
When someone else gains trust and in you can believe.
We should all endeavor to esteem and regard every one of us.
A more peculiar companion or family isn't genuine, thus.
May our excursion be one of happiness and daintiness?
What's withal in all we serve and heed, with spiritedness,
To set up an external assessment for everyone clod.
It is out of the compass of any individual who isn't God.
Regardless, there is pain and gain in the present situation.
Otherwise, there is a service of both joy and tribulation.
His power, weakness, and feelings were frittered away.
It's paradoxical since he was destroying his own joy.
Written: December 21, 2021
Flawless Aster under Auspicious Cloud.
I find myself under an Auspicious cloud.
My sweet dreams overcome the flaws in disaster.
Smoothing away all my flaw's in my fear.
I slept under the star shape like an Aster.
Vanishing away the ugliness of my nightmares.
I awaken to a peaceful morning of tranquility.
In a fragrance path leading me to my own Dynasty.
I saw the solution that disabled the flaws of our unity.
Using myself perception of my abilities.
I am overwhelmed by the flawless gloom.
Accepting the careless ways of my responsibilities.
Surrounded by the human bloom.
I am cheerfully flowing out a perfectiveness of a glow.
My flaws have been cleansed and purified.
I joined the flowers of the radiant promising future.
To accomplished life in an auspicious way.
A flawless look into the obvious day.
A beautiful elegance in our harmonious way.
Unmarked in every soul with a purple ray.
Faultless, blameless, no need to beg and pray.
Unhurt like the beauty we find in the sky.
You hold me close with the whole feeling of love.
I am the Auspice in your eye.
Undamaged me with the atmosphere of your Aster wondrous sky.
Unharmed you stand in front of me.
I'm wild like an Aster flower in your hands so perfectly.
Smiles to the world full of flawlessness.
Like a diamond found in nature untouched and unbroken.
Spoken words clearly come out bless.
A star, two flowers, a cloud, an imaginable token.
Symbolizing the love with no weakness.
Impacted on kindness and daintiness.
Waking up to the the worlds of reality.
I turn around like the moon.
On my taste buds I flavored the blossom smell.
The brightness of a flawless day.
I brush the dust of my shoulders.
I have no anger to castaway.
I've earned no fault when it comes to reason.
Now it's time to comprehend to live in the new.
Forbid my self to dwell on the old.
Look into the beauty that our future world holds.
Close the vision that we only see things for its flaws.
Clear your mind to inner self of mortality.
Longing to see the Aster in the dark sky.
I own the impurity of my air to the Auspicious cloud.
To absolute revive the love of the things that are alive.
By: P.D.
Sun Goddess at large in frilly filigree frock
Holding the world in her hand at a gentle angle
I sense her joyful soul and our hearts quickly lock
How much more exquisite can she clearly dangle?
She glows gold in the morning, showing me her love
Streaks across the sky fiercely at night with happiness too
Dashes of daintiness exude from her catbird seat above
Whispers of joyfulness showing off her delicate eyes of blue
Sun Goddess, I count on you each and every pretty day
Your warmth helps me to be the best earth person I can be
To watch the squirrels and the creatures of the forest play
Is truly wonderful and lovely, made possible by thee
Your golden halo and your intrinsic locks of genius power
Entice me to be the best person I can be for the entire day.
Your morning love goes well with coffee and an ice cold shower.
Your spirituality and essence clearly and distinctly lead the way.
I saw thee standing on the Parra grass
With all thine elegance and daintiness
Thy pulchritude is like an expensive glass
Oh! Thou art the image of my happiness.
On thy hands is rolling rope
As an heirloom from thine mother dear
With all the courage and hope
Shining brightly without a fear.
How lovely to see thee when you sway thine hands
Holding the rope of memories
How beautiful thou art when you take a glance
This takes all my deep-down worries.
I hear the pleasant sound of thine voice
That can captivate the passing boys
‘Tis your songs can heal the broken heart
As you sing it with joy and with art.
When afternoon come, you need to say goodbye
To the Parra grass and butterflies
Heading towards the lovely home
To the place where you belong.
They flitter and flirt. They flutter, and I have to take an extra close look.
Are they faeries, brownies, butterflies, bees, dragonflies or what?
They are similar in a lot of ways and they all land on flowers.
Tiny blue moths languish on the timber I put into my fire pit.
It has been stacked for a while, and I marvel that they flit in and out
with such happiness about a bunch of old wood.
Yellow and white butterflies flutter around the marigolds,
making a big fuss of them, and honeybees and bumblebees take turns
pollinating the soft fuzzy lamb’s ear, that is so velvety to the touch.
Dragonflies arrive in July, but not many days before.
Their beveled wings capture my imagination; I have tried to draw them.
But no painting has done their daintiness justice.
Hummingbirds have a special connection with my garden.
When I think “I wish I could see a hummingbird” one always appears.
I am not surprised, being as in touch with garden faeries and gnomes as I am.
The mystic bay channels my
every emotion moving slowing
throughout tunnels and vessels
of my mind tampering with
my infamous glow my tangible
smile gathering mirth as i am
quite taken with self the heart
of my magnificent being tasting
the glamorous hues of heavenly
bliss coasting daintiness balanced
so well embracing thoughtful
interludes chastised mannerism
created just so as i continue
flowing between this galaxy of
stars twinkling magnitude offering
nothing an yet so glorified, fulfilled
with every inch of the fine wonders
of enduring this wide open grandeur
beyond a whisper blindly heard
bravely singing my own masterpieces
the notion a fine rapture of proses
carried out across the mystic bay
The evening was quite rushed as Dalloway sat
calling to the tamed and wildly educated
an yet the daintiness allowed an infatuated
nest of kindness in spite the poised night
that brought such a gracious glare in sight
while the meaning of a lighthouse sung soft
away from the dark stairs and garden loft
the day turned down a silent orange sigh
between the gleaming spears that went on by
casting over shores and river banks
while the shores sung o'glory to all of her tanks
while the canvas shouted out a quaint theme
bringing the sand to rise the river streams
and patience so gallantly removed an yet
the sun shined at bay without even a fret
as the wind rushed through the crowded breeze
leaving little room to even raise a sleeve
while the cape cod was surely missed
as it was the purity of freedom so well kissed
for the days grew short but war indeed is no sport
Written by Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
March 2005 undisclosed location
in loving memory of my grandfather
Cpl Roosevelt King
the evening was quite rushed as dalloway sat
calling to the tamed and wildly educated
an yet the daintiness allowed an infatuated
nest of kindness inspite the poised night
that brought such a gracious glare in sight
while the meaning of a lighthouse sung soft
away from the dark stairs and garden loft
the day turned down a silent orange sigh
between the gleaming spears that went on by
casting over shores and river banks
while the shores sung o'glory to all of her tanks
while the canvas shouted out a quaint theme
bringing the sand to rise the river streams
as patience so galently removed an yet
the sunshined at bay without even a fret
as the wind rushed through the crowded breeze
leaving little room to even raise a sleeve
while the cape cod was surely missed
as it was the purity of freedom so well kissed
for the days grew short but war indeed is no sport