sun rises in east, lotus turns its head to west, birds fly towards nest
With her youngest child now in college…beginning her own life quest…
Ali, our daughter…(as Deborah and I and so many parents before)
is left with an empty nest.
We spend years keeping our children close
giving them someone whom they can rely on
and then one day we look around
and just like that…
they’re gone.
And we’re faced with the paradox of parenting…
that pulls at our heartstrings:
How we’ve nurtured our children’s roots…
while helping to develop their wings.
Hoping those roots of love we’ve nurtured…
and helped to beautify…
will keep us all connected…no matter where they fly.
And though there’s a twinge of sadness as our children soar…
we also feel blessed
knowing those wings we helped create
will bring them back into our nest.
I hope Ali…when she looks at their unoccupied rooms
beyond her tears will also find a smile
knowing her nest will never completely empty…
just vacant for a while.
With children
a house becomes alive
Without them
an empty shell
With children
new moments of joy arrive
Without them
an unringing bell
With children
laughter stays in the air
Without them
but memories dwell
With children
the years to age unimpaired
Without them
— all magic is quelled
(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)
Feeling warm,
Mommy’s cold,
sense of duty,
Mommy stays,
First of four clouds,
She clears the sky,
So light can shine,
On the cloud she raised.
hornet’s nest of
lofty ideals on stake
to appease the gods
by ego upstaged, soul’s light caged
we wandered earth like a lost ghost
fire of desire in our heart raged
for peace we wandered coast to coast
synced not to music of the spheres
by ego upstaged, soul’s light caged
we sought solace among our peers
mental battles ceaselessly waged
in the flow of time, body aged
we were but a dead man walking
by ego upstaged, soul’s light caged
stark haunting with dark fears stalking
shift to stillness made us stronger
heart sang, when from thoughts disengaged
choosing to suffer no longer
by ego upstaged, soul’s light caged
swimming
like lobotomized fish
in a psychiatric pond.
following to follow—
not following to lead.
following the leader,
following like sheep.
the pied piper
always made
such a fine shepherd
for those
who don’t
think.
wi-n-gs on beguiling b~r~e~e~z~e
r
a
o
dreams s in sanguine sky
empty nest c r
u m
b l
e s
E very parent nurtures, through laughter and tears,
M aking dreams bloom across fleeting years.
P rotecting their young from a world unknown,
T eaching life's lessons in a loving tone.
Y et, in time, their children will chart their course,
N ewly embarked, driven by life's force.
E ntering realms that were once untold,
S eparated from warmth, in a world so bold,
T hey will value the lessons you’d hoped to mold.
mom fed baby birds
pushed out of the nest by mom
they must learn to fly
Should you like to view the shrike
or have a butchers take a hike
to where they nest while at rest
but better yet sneak a peek
at the dancing yet docile
and stupid blue-footed booby
as it will make you smile
for they have no need to choose
a pair of blue suede shoes
and how to catch them
there's no secret you would keep
it's best when they're sound asleep
yes can you guess
if you dare when they nap
to snare one two or a few
use a blue-footed booby trap
almost nothing
be...
predictable now
in...
this world based
on...
the power of war
and...
what are results
sought...
by the instigators
len
nuclear nest destroyed- a second holocaust avoided
a safe haven
a home I call my nest
created piece by piece by piece
fabricated with all the items that I love
each room a place of peace
like a bird 'building' a nest I have gathered things
beautiful things that bring serenity and joy
this is my safe harbor from life
it is a grand mansion to me
tranquility is in each room
I breathe in the harmony and the solitude
no matter what is happening beyond
once the door closes I am safe . . .
protected within my nest from the strains of life
In the unpretentious backyard
Of my house— not a home,
Bloomed a bird's nest
Concealed concernedly
In the benevolent branches
Of the dear aged tremulous tree.
When I noticed the nest nearly,
House felt like a home dearly,
I noticed the humble hatching
Of the birds—
Life lustrously levitating
Out of a shattering shell
Of an emaciated egg.
How gentle squeaks
Filled the surroundings
Slowly and sincerely,
My heart hissing
Gratitude for great glory.
Now, they are a week old,
Surely, soon, they will fill
Their wings with their
First flight
From my backyard
Amply, they'll be gone long
And I'll still be a basic bard
While they'll be reaching
The racing clouds.
I know not the name,
I know not their kind,
I tried searching,
But I couldn't find
The name of the birds
That are taking shelter
And bedazzling
My rudimentary backyard.
How artistically
Nature wonderfully works—
Blooming and dying,
Escalations and sorrows,
Falling and flying,
Yesterdays and morrows.
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