Long Moss grown Poems

I walk through forests of golden snow, as the sun beams down on my face
I feel the sweet breeze of the cold air. I stand before the castle gate and stare
At the war-torn solders draped...

Read More

When the leaves fall, gently as the first kiss
From the mother who has just discovered the wonder
Of motherhood, the music – so very good…
	Aching prayers, faded into the moss-grown forests,
		Delighting the hearts who remember
			The sweetest...

Read More

"A graveyard is the only place where all distictions are leveled and the rich and the poor rest together in peace".... By Poet


Though the sun had begun bleeding in the West
With an explorer’s gait, I...

Read More

Seeping through families of oaks,
Surrounded by pines, laurels and all…
Gentle leaves, so alive – yes, they breathe,
Silent like the peace I find here,
Enclosed in their embrace, 
Soft music of dove and robin, praising,
Ever praising with...

Read More

Here I stand before hundreds of moss grown graves
There is a mournful silence that extends
Through the weed grown path, no traveller walks
The place, some morbid warning portends

Hush.... hush is this place, here no bird sings
The...

Read More

“Can you feel the soul of an abandoned house,
 can you hear the whispering? " 
                   ...

Read More

Take that road down yonder, she said
Toward the signpost that reads, lickskillet
Turn right up thar and then left after that
To a highfulootin road that’s paved in black

After you see the red store building by the...

Read More

As I stand before this old, dilapidated house,
A structure fast decaying and about to crumble, 
With its walls painted grey and white,
And the plaster bearing cracks and marks,
Memories leap out,
From the moss-grown crevices of my...

Read More

Disconnection dissects her dawdling brain; 
Isolated from the world around her she stands alone, 
A solitary tear bejeweling her translucent skin
She doesn’t reach up to brush it away
Instead she smiles, sadly, at the faces around...

Read More

I did not summon these thoughts—they arrived already breathing,
wrapped in the salty cloak of silence, like relics
rising from the forgotten graves of someone else's ruins,
where echoes dance like spirits in the twilight of forgetting.
They shape...

Read More

Where do all the Pooh sticks go, you lovingly selected,
dropped in the water, on their way? Then ran across the bridge
to witness how they fared, alone, without your guiding hand.

All now slither, out of sight,...

Read More

OLD FOLKS

Gone those elder-respecting days -
An ancient could well topple over
As uncouth youth speeds around him

The Walmart express departs
My God!
Look what’s been left behind –

A multitude of invisibility
A moss grown obsolete
Decrepitude on slow parade

Antediluvian ...

Read More

Gazing into the heavy eyelids of the sun
In the sacred silence of the dusk	
Through a route obscure and lonely
I walked on until reached before a grave yard
My thoughts curled round the forgotten tombs
Where the dead...

Read More

God, all the time You are,
everywhere You,
You suffice all…
But I, with my wild stubbornness,
with hunter’s old scent,
look, in myself, for the lack-of-You:
I’d like to see –
in this body, this soul – 
where You are not...

Read More

 
"A dagger of pain, a tear of grief."

                          ...

Read More

Making it known in the twilight zone, 
an unknown, error-prone player reached a milestone 
using  follicle stimulating hormone 
to produce a phytohormone clone of Alicia Silvestone 
honed from a fully grown breastbone and stray...

Read More

A dry stone wall
of moss-grown granite
staggers,
lush undulating plains
swaggers,
fields ablaze with wildflowers 
bows
at a curvaceous hollow
where a copper stream gurgles below.
 
Sheep fluff velvet meadows
mirror cotton clouds above.
Stooped,
they graze
on buttercup fields
Blotched blurs,
they climb 
to higher ground
where...

Read More