Wabi-Sabi 12-21-23
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Wabi-Sabi
Empty the mirage of perfection
Whose shadow wears scars
Of perpetual broken rainbows –
Cracked rose petals –
Gilded edges joined by hibernation and spring.
A pilgrimage into amnesia
Timeworn victories fade into badges lost to time
Moonlight swallows the waning heart of morning
Sunlight gobbles up unfinished faces of the moon
Storms inhale fragments of sunbows.
Out of exploding ephemeral stardust broken beauty
As galaxies toss and turn creating quasars
Like waves sculpt eroding sands
In the orbit of perpetual opening ceremonies -
A journey into morphing excellence of golden seams.
And love grows to bloom then scatter rosehips
Into time’s silken wrinkles
Star born magma bows with gratitude
For unexplored shapes crafted on new shores
Where only eternity lasts forever.
Categories:
rosehips, life, seasons,
Form: Free verse
I was in the garden tending gladioli
and collecting rosehips to make wine
When I glanced toward the sky
A cold shiver ran down my spine .
Hurtling toward me
At what seemed a thousand miles per hour
Was a sight I never thought to see
and I was beguiled by its power .
I stood as if I was paralyzed
As the peregrine falcon swooped ever near
It was as if I had been hypnotised
By beauty mixed with fear.
I flinched and turned my face away
From the injury I expect
but Falcon has its tiny prey
I stand in awe to pay respect.
Into the eyes of a cold blooded killer
My frightened blue eyes glance
I'm reminded of the scene from thriller
When the zombies rise to dance.
How effective was that immortal scene
When first we watched that DVD
Am I awake ? Is this a dream ?
Naught with the falcons eyes on me.
I know he see's but seems to pay no heed
As he pops onto my fence post
He nods his head as if to thank me for his feed
But though it is my garden, I know he was the host.
Categories:
rosehips, animal,
Form: Verse
Sir Reginald was so brave and bold
He’d travel by land and oft by sea
His quest ~ to find the city of gold…
Following maps, he sought the true key…
Though read, they proved often too deceive
He sought a gypsy and bade her speak
Sweet Gypsy speak of that which you see ~
Hoping she’d reveal the fortune seeked…
Gypsy was clever as she foretold
Dear Sir, you must perform tasks of three...
First, you must bring me rosehips of gold.
Sir Reginald listened carefully…
Given the rosehips, Gypsy was quite pleased --
She brewed them watching as the pot steeped.
Next, he was to bring golden honey
That must be brought of the wild bee-keeps...
Sir Reginald thought Gypsy to scold
But, he desired the treasures she’d see…
So his tongue for now he would control,
At least ‘til the last task was complete…
She bade him drink the sweet honeyed tea
That night they slept tight, as she had dreamed
He awoke spellbound by her beauty…
Gypsy’s aura was gold, so it seemed
Categories:
rosehips, fantasy, on writing and
Form: Ballade