in delicate domain
of latticed life
at esoteric edge
of sinking sky
sanguine
hermit horizon
shimmers sensibility
in paled passion
incited perception
dawned
illumines insight
radiant
on convoluted contours
of dismantled dream
adrift
whirlpool of pining
swivels in intrinsic stream
arcane mindscape
marooned
recedes unperceived
into twilight obscurity
ordained
final flow
of terminal notion
through insipid channel
on platitude plateau
obscure
constructs conduit
for contemplation current
destined for
integral fusion
with supreme sea
absolute
the end embraces
sublime serenity
reflective
psyche suffused
with sunset spectrum
fading
designs desire
derelict
entrenched in
perpetuity illusion
innate
embeds eternal efflux
in enlightened soul
sailing implicitly
to bay of bliss
buoyantly
Beside the schoolyard stands a tattered flag,
Raised long ago by hands now lost to time.
Its colors drained beneath an uncaring sun;
Some swear it paled with age, some claim it always shone.
And over years new stories clothed its face,
Yet none approach the truth of what it was:
A banner once of liberty and hope,
Forgotten by the ones it stood to guard—
The folk of Enotita, swept away
By what humanity had wrought at last.
A land once filled with hope and grace
Now gone to waste from war and great discord
The flag once lifted upon land so great
Has now surrendered to a harsher fate
His tired smile felt genuinely warm
It's the daily norm since he was born
Life is an endless loop of closed doors
Searching for hope among endless pores
Born into seaside harbor
Felt the wave of endless labor
Shouldering pain and liability
Sailing for honest security
Touching the mild ocean breeze
Smiled tiredly along freezing sneeze
Homecoming after relentless work
Grabs and sighs at dinner fork
Looking upon paled door
Grabbles within open pores
Shut the lights hoping for relief
Dreaming upon hopeless beliefs
A continuous cycle day and night
A tired smile without light
January early
The morning came late this winter day
a glimmer from the east, a gloaming of yellow
that paled into washy white and slowly, like
It was painful when the day arrived
There was no jubilation from the baker
delivering cakes and bread to the local shop
His voice was coarse, red eyes of cold and
wearing two scarves
The lady in the shop wore an overcoat that
had gone through times of festivities, but
Do the coat and the woolly long socks
We were helping a lady from Gusty Frost
In delicate dale
of latticed life,
at esoteric edge
of sinking sky,
hermit horizon
shimmers sensuous,
paled passion
glows.
On convolute contours
of scrambled dream,
whirlpool desire
swivels in inert stream,
arcane mindscape
usurped unsculpted
in twilight obscurity,
destined
In platitude plateau,
the final flow
originates inspired,
ordained for
integral fusion
with supreme sea,
the end embraces
sublime silence,
reflective.
Suffused engulfed
by sunrise shades,
longing designs,
perpetuity illusion
embeds eternal efflux,
carries vibrant soul
to the bay of bliss,
virtually.
A mother's cry
My mother had broken up with her boyfriend
She was out of work and had not bought a tree
Her boyfriend used to do that
She boiled rice and milk into pudding, gave
Use the pan and tell the three of us to eat
She went to bed, but we could hear her
cried in utter despair
After some time, she got out of bed, dressed
She took us to her ex-boyfriend's family
told them to give us a happy Christmas, which
They did as she herself walked off
When her ex heard of that, he paled and hastened
down to the docks
He found her there at the edge of a pier, trying
to commit suicide and took her home to his parents
They remained lovers for many years.
My mother was an intelligent woman and would
not put past her, she had planned it all
The Ending
The only tree left in the whole world
was opening its leaves to welcome
the day to the survivors
Among extinct animals
the Tasmanian tiger, beside the Hubro
They had been friends since 1936
There was no artificial light, and the stars
had paled as night became day
Humanity was missing; it had not made
The transition to a planet at peace
dropped heavy bombs killing their own
A war cry, after us, there will be no one
The enemy of peace will be vanquished
even when we too died
A magic moment sonnet
The only tree left in the whole world
was opening its leaves to welcome
the day to the survivors
Among extinct animals
the Tasmanian tiger, beside the Hubro
They had been friends since 1936
There was no artificial light; the stars
had paled as night became day
Humanity was missing; it had not made
The transition to a planet at peace
dropped heavy bombs killing their own
a war cry, after us, there will be no one
Cackles, snickers, chortles and squeals ease life's weight.
Laughter can completely reset our composure.
Humors random salves of mirth can ease feeling states.
Past times of paled poise were health fueled by laughs ardor.
Laughter can completely reset our composure.
Acute giggles often cause worthwhile tummy bunched aches.
Past times of paled poise were health fueled by laughs ardor.
Bonding laugh episodes can mold sweet memory shapes.
Acute giggles often cause worthwhile tummy bunched aches.
Laughs can floor lay us to mirth quake over and over.
Bonding laugh episodes can mold sweet memory shapes.
Laughing steers peace of mind like a kind chauffeur.
Laughs can floor lay us to mirth quake over and over.
Humors random salves of mirth can ease feeling states.
Laughing steers peace of mind like a kind chauffeur.
Cackles, snickers, chortles and squeals ease life's weight.
Underage
A moonbeam sat on a bough just outside my bedroom window.
The beam was of the shy sort, and it didn’t frolic about
in the forest during the happy hour.
I invited it, in the moonbeam was cold; I tucked it in
a blanket, careful that there was no physical contact
us the beam was of tender age; one must take care lest the Guardian Harridans find it nasty and demand a hanging party; no more playing football or forever being an outcast, lest I repent.
Children and moonbeams like stories, and I told a few before the moon paled, and I sent the little moonbeam on its way
untouched by human hands.
The sailor goes ashore.
the night in the hallway paled into a yellowish screen
showing a black movie, 1963
A time machine of memories sent him back to the years
to meet people long since gone.
A family at the dinner table of people he knew too well
the shadow of his 125 years old father was not there
nectar drinking Colibri exotic as Christmas present never received, the one in the toy shop, a red firetruck
with wooden wheels
And he, the son of the oldest man in the world, had gone to sea, and when he returned, nothing was as remembered, differently by the people around the table
A lacuna of missed years, a distance that was unbridgeable whenever he came home, a stranger silent
augmenting the gap filled with politeness.
They had known and seen him grow to adulthood, but his character remained a mystery, sitting in the living room.
They were related to him and knew he would leave soon.
A nurse gently touched his shoulder are you awake?
Yes, mother, I'm home from the sea.
Ashore at last
The night in the hallway paled into a yellowish screen
showing a black movie, ca 1963
A time machine of memories sent him back to the years
to meet people long since gone.
A family at the dinner table of people he knew too well
the shadow of his 125-year-old father was not there
nectar drinking Colibri exotic as Christmas present never received, the one in the toy shop, a red firetruck with wooden wheels
And he, the son of the oldest man in the world, had gone to sea, and when he returned, nothing was as remembered, differently by the people around the table
an ocean of missed years, a distance that was unbridgeable whenever he came home, a stranger silent
augmenting the gap filled with politeness.
They had known and seen him grow to adulthood, but his character remained a mystery, sitting in the living. room
somehow, they were related to him
they knew he would leave soon.
A nurse gently touched his shoulder,
you are awake?
Yes, my dear, I'm home from the sea.
I was in a slumber repose,
so tired- I wanted to rest:
then, a guitar vibrating grows,
I love the twanging of my guest;
bringing feeling that I repressed !
The tune is a dreamy cajole,
an enticement and seduction:
the music speaks love to my soul,
I sigh for my love's destruction;
recall our introduction !
I am in a place misty veiled,
hazy, dark, murky and shrouded:
I see headstones with etching paled,
and names engraved- the stones crowded;
oh, why is the sky so clouded !
I smell the fragrant lilacs bloom,
one day ... I planted these flowers:
he loved so their cluster perfume,
I could stand here many hours;
oh, weary- and now the showers !
Duality in life goes hand in hand, we see,
With sorrow and with joy, a dance eternally.
For happiness and grief, they overshadow each,
In life’s grand tapestry, they teach each other.
Duality in nature rules with law supreme,
Dark nights will always follow bright day’s golden gleam.
The sun and moon, they chase across the endless sky,
A perfect harmony, where opposites comply.
In love, this duality our hearts commands,
Loneliness and unity, like shifting sands.
In separation, sad songs from our hearts will flow,
But in romance, sweet dreams grow within our spirits.
Duality exists 'tween lover and the divine,
When love for God and lover in one heart align.
In this love supreme, all other dreams are veiled,
For in this bond, all other aspirations paled.
On our wedding day, the summer was beginning to fade away, but autumn had not taken over the world. The sky opened and dropped a few tears of happiness onto the church rooftop while we said our vows. Although the temperature was mild, our passion still scorched our skin like a burning July sun with every touch. My Army uniformed paled against the brilliance of your winter white wedding dress. You smelled like wildflowers in the spring. We laughed when we promised all our worldly possessions to each other. We did not understand yet how rich we were.
The springtime of youth
Is rife with love and passion
To warm winter’s days
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