A FLOWER BEYOND RARE
Your hair
How it falls
Like water's churning call
Your eyes without care
A windowless wall
Your lips
Soft sincere
A flower beyond rare
To me you are all
And to all
None compare
Dark brooding pall
Mirrored, frost, and fair
Your flesh
Never touched
Such I'd never dare
Drain away the blood
I lay awake and wear
Wane away the pain
I lay blame and bare
In those rare moments
when
I forget who I am,
GUIDE ME,
when my confidence
is not where it should be,
in those moments when
I don't feel like I can rise
to the top
and my self-esteem is low.
In those rare moments
when
I forget that all things happen
for a reason,
MOTIVATE ME,
when I feel like giving up,
in those moments when
It appears I've lost my Faith
and my foundation needs
strengthening.
In those rare moments
when
for some reason I can't seem
to accomplish what I set out
to do,
CHALLENGE ME,
when I get lazy or disoriented
and get lost in complacency,
in those moments when
I have periods of indecision.
In those rare moments
when
I feel emotionally drained
and I need someone to
lean on,
LOVE ME,
reminding me always that love
conquers all,
and through love I can get my life
back on track.
In those rare moments
when
I can't seem to exhale,
GUIDE ME
MOTIVATE ME
CHALLENGE ME
INSPIRE ME
EMPOWER ME
and above all,
LOVE ME
A raspberry is sweet—
yet seeing you leaves me fresh and sour,
regretting I didn’t find you sooner.
You make me pop when you smile,
like a golden retriever greeting the world
with pure joy.
You make me burst like confetti
the moment you show your heart.
You leave me wordless,
blank as white paper,
whenever you stick out your tongue.
You are rare as a blood moon
when your eyes open wide.
Will these sacred words ever reach you
before I leave this world?
This feeling crushes me gently—
like a raspberry pressed into juice,
slowly draining me,
yet never losing its sweetness..
Better than fiction,
a moment capturing stars.
The fantasy’s real.
I am capable of awe,
unfortunately it’s rare.
It’s a simple and ordinary day,
There’s no reason to wish it a brighter way.
A fake smile and gestures I relay—
There’s no positive; just be okay.
There’s a shift, subtle yet hard to define,
He’s simple, but something in him shines.
A blank face, rarely offering a smile,
Yet somehow, he gives my heart a butterfly.
He’s one of the reasons I can’t explain,
The cause of a heartbeat that won’t remain plain.
His smile—rare, like the full moon’s light,
His steps make my world feel right.
Almost three years, still stuck in the line,
He’s far ahead, not quite mine.
Not in the middle, not even a part—
I hope, if it’s possible, there’s still a start.
we merge ...
I, rooted in your core
pushing up as you press down -
never deep enough …
supine, you on knees above
I reach up -
weave my fingers thru silken strands
and gently guide your head
down toward me …
( moondrops in your eyes … sighs )
sweet tresses fall between us as
our mouths melt together -
tongues playing their own game
soft like bubblegum …
I swim up the river to your soul
to that place indescribable
warm and dark …
( maelstrom of desire … afire )
we are so melded that
I almost feel alone ...
lonely, but in the sense of being US
and one …
I could let go my spirit there ...
without fear or regret or contemplation
I could stay forever on those
shores, in joy -
lost in our union and that
ethereal embrace …
( selves spun a-bliss … whispers )
but …
it is far too precious for those ends -
too exquisite and rare
all for the sake of how momentary
and blessed for the sake
of how perfect …
how passionately and
imperfectly ...
perfect.
(edit)
Crystals.
Follows its own shapes and lines.
Explodes like text messages about food and friends.
Heavily guarded.
Everyone knows the rare metals.
Not by name, just by the shine.
Like vampire shine.
Random uncrystalized feelings.
End up in the dumpster that’s only my own stuff.
Rare metals.
It’s not gold out there.
It’s just eternal space ships.
Follows its own shapes and lines.
Confuses itself into nothing.
Crystal shaped stuff.
Filled treasure chests feeling glazed over.
Thoughts bubbles crystalized.
Not so rare after all.
Stuff from caves and mines.
Belonged to me all along.
Carving out stuff for me to take home.
Never made it.
Love you
Love me
I do
We'll see
How much
Whole lot
missed touch
Love sought
It's been
Many years
We seen
Joy,tears
Still there
Me too
I care
About you
We communicate
That's key
Don't hate
I'm sorry
We can
Work through
Can't stand
Fighting you
Love true
Will persevere
Me,you
Still here
Love true
rare find
You do
Hold bind
rare pretty ice eggs
produced by wind and water
in northern Finland
“What’s it all about, Alfie?”—
Are they hedonistic choices—and the katabatic void they leave?
This cup’s clutter, this timetable of supplejack sighs.
If the moon forgets—will it ever call us back?
Are we meant to have beyond what we bestow?
Or are we required to be seraphim?
We chase glitter, blind to its lamplight and oil.
Alfie, if a fool shows no interest,
Is revenge the clever answer?
And if life belongs only to the strong—
What’s your wager on the sphinx’s ancient rule?
Our aspirations fold like creased napkins—
still clean enough for an evasive guest.
Love? A leftover coat on the wrong hook,
a name spoken softly, reshaped when no one listens.
Hope? A medium-rare object—
warm in the middle, a blush of pink.
Never raw, though.
And relevance? The hum between two clashing chords—
your laughter mocking silence.
“What’s it all about, Alfie?” then…
Perhaps nothing.
Perhaps everything.
Or simply this:
You hesitate—and maybe that’s the answer.
at birth, my grandson Jack’s eyes were amber like a wolves
his hair had a tinge of ginger that gave him a look of mischief
I had never seen such eyes, but the hair was familiar
My mother was a McCormick; the Irish have lots of redheads
People commented on the hair but not the eyes
Did they not notice those wolf-like orbs? I could not believe it
I guess redheads are rare, that is the impression I had.
I now dye my hair a red shade called burgundy; I adore it.
I wish it would grow out the right color, but alas,
It is growing out white, so I look like a skunk when it is time to dye
My grandson’s eyes have changed to a darker brown,
but he still has that lovely tinge that people marvel about.
Just compare cloud with crowd
Two words are changeable.
To replace 'l' by 'r'
Next you change 'u to 'w'.
You may trust.
Must turn same.
Both are vast.
Burst in mass.
What all likes lets, such a luck’s rare,
Plugs all panic, such a pluck’s rare,
Rare are bucks that give loudest bang,
Cool with lake’s muck, such a duck’s rare.
__________________________
Epigram | 02.08.2025 | luck, pluck, buck, duck
Note: A quatrain like this in Gujarati is known as muktak with free/independent thought. Its first, second, and fourth lines rhyme. They have what is called laaghav, minimal words meaning the most.
appaloosa horse
mottled skin and striped hooves
~ stunning specimen
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
When an ordinary day becomes the unexpected,
The hours turn into a rush, and get connected.
I turned my head to find who stood there,
Our eyes met—something rare
I didn’t give anything that hinted at chaos,
Didn’t give a little smile, just raised my eyebrows.
Ignoring someone, shaking my head—
Not now, I’m done being bled.
But you’re the one giving me reason to hold a half-string,
You turn my head again, and your smile gives me something.
My quiet place has a visitor—should I let him in?
Should I open the door and grab his hand to begin?
I think this is the time to say, “I give my walls down.”
You grab my hand and fill the space, feeling like having a crown.
Your smile is like the moon to me, bringing calmness,
Your voice is like rest, providing me with happiness.
You’re one of my “beautiful unplanned.”
You’re my solace now, my safe space in hand,
Building another core memory—
But this time, I have you in every journey.
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