I walk in a world painted with charm,
where laughter drifts like sunlight,
where hands are gentle and hearts are soft.
Yet I stumble on the broken echoes,
the half smiles and misfired warmth
the ones the world seems to have set aside.
I have watched the golden pass me by,
their steps in sync with the universe,
while I gather the fragments left behind,
learning that solitude is not punishment
but a quiet, fierce companion.
Alone, I sharpen my edges,
I claim my own rhythm,
I dance in rooms built from my own light.
I do not wait for the lost or the lovely,
for I am enough
without the handsome, without the kind.
In this crowd of misfits,
I have found a throne of one,
and it suits me
better than any hand could.
family practice
family dinners
family size
family style
there are but two of us now
we never eat the same thing
we are both a family of one
sharing a house
TO BEING OF ONE ACCORD
Let us not sow discord,
rather, let’s sow onederful,
oneness, onement:
Reaping divine wisdom, and
guidance, from the Holy One.
The sound of one hand clapping
or a turtle when he's napping
is very hard to hear,
because it isn't even there.
My lips began to tremble,
And then my voice began to shake.
From my eyes, tears did fall;
Inside, I feel my heart break.
The pain this is causing is harsh;
It has dropped me down on my knees.
Through pain and tears, I beg you
Not to do this to me, please.
The pain growing in my chest
Has now started to spread.
I still don't believe I heard
Those damning words you said.
It sounded as though you said
You didn't love me and you're done,
That our party of two we've enjoyed
Will now only be a party of one.
To you I begged and I pleaded
The whole time as you started to pack.
Then there was that look you gave,
Confirming you weren't coming back.
A Journey of One
Destination Unknown
the pale moon hovers
over the village at sunrise.
A Depiction of One Artist and His Starry Night
~
a precarious world of indecision
a dark pallet of light
this brilliant depiction , it does scream , it cries out
blues and yellows swirl in a maze of defeat
a crescent moon suspended in a blissful evening , hangs lone in agony
I rest within this small town of hope
my eyes are saddened , my mind relentless in delight
You are mine , my asylum , my starry night a dimension of light under this wrenching canopy of demise
oh Vincent
I'll whisk you off to Paris
I'll even fly the plane
There'll only be one passenger
And that one has your name
You'll sit right beside me
I'll show you how it's done
High above the ocean
Towards the rising sun
And then as we approach her
Awakening from the night
Drowsy streets and boulevards
That glorious City of Light!
Bon jour amour, good morning
Parlez vous Francais?
Don't worry, I don't either
We'll take a class one day
A quick nap then we'll get up
Walk to Arc de Triomphe
Arm in arm, boutiquing
For anything you want
May I please have the pleasure
Of taking you by hand?
A touch that I would treasure
My lady, you're so grand
And when day one is over
A toast of Veuve Clicquot
To you my precious sweetheart
Forever I'll you know
Paris has two nicknames
The one I wrote before
It's true, the lights are glorious
But the next one I like more
This name suits it better
It fits us like a glove
Beautiful together
In the City of Love
Alone I drift, a vagabond psuche, haunted by daughter's lifeblood and husband's self-exploded mind, a diseased landscape. Frantic fingers dance on the page as I conjure reason's faint glow, a desperate chainsaw whirring solace in the abyss. Bloodlust welts of fury scorch the script, a deranged catechism of hedonistic, as I shriek into the fray, my frame a torched earth, solar barren and bereft. Scum-ridden silver glares back, mocking reflections of futility, as I seethe venomous disgust, a reckoning’s reckoning, spewing forth vitriol to corrode the granite complacency. Specters of forgotten faces fragment, a ghastly kaleidoscope of doctored truths, as I screech at the echoing of a hollow existence, a funeral dirge for the self that never was. And smile at the reflection of who I am supposed to be, single-mother-effer's manifesto, don’t effing question she, you don’t have the piano fingers to come near my grace on the keys, I tie cherries with my tongue, have your berries blue by morn, my hands are a whole different story.
Sometimes I amaze even me — this is poetry!!
the power of one
to pray to God that
evil be put on the run
When we abide in restful quietude,
divine energy gridlines come alive,
held still with vibrancy and fortitude,
causing nectar to drip from soul’s bliss hive.
There is no mystery in words we speak,
being simply devout intent of heart,
wishing to be still to get a sneak peek
at sparks that cause bliss ignition to start.
Though the seeker who seeks does not exist,
heart’s desire emoted needs a response
which it receives, manifest as a mist,
throb of bliss magnetism, held in love’s sconce.
The aspect of us entwined with the whole,
is imbibed in heart as whispers of soul.
Before, one rose is
Enough, to let your anger
Erase; now, one text.
~AN AUDIENCE OF ONE~
Stop knocking yourself out, writing for applause!
You only need in your audience, the smles from
The Almighty One!
So though the warm hurrahs from humans are great,
God, not a Muse, blessed you with the gift of poetry.
And in the final end, He is the only one, you must satiate!
6/22/2024
All odd
make pairs...
There is nothing loose!
Nobody is happy
alone...
Odd and even
attract each other...
One does not divide
in two,
but two unite
one for love!
If two loose ones are made
a couple...
a pair becomes one
in the main force
of love...
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