On the inaccessible peak,
There must be flowers—
Soft as whispers, bright as stars,
Untouched by earthly hours.
No hand may pluck their Grace,
No foot may mar their place—
On the inaccessible peak,
There must be flowers.
Oh, the seekers come and go,
Clutching truths they’ll never know—
But the summit, cold and deep,
Guards its bloom in sacred sleep.
Veils of mist obscure the climb,
Fate selects the few to find.
What is pure will not be seen,
By the eyes that crowd between.
On the inaccessible peak, there must be flowers,
White as the dawn, untouched by hours.
No voice to name them, no step to mar,
They gleam like vows on heights afar.
On the inaccessible peak,
There must be flowers—
Untouched by the seekers who climb,
Unspoiled by hours.
Where no voice calls,
And no foot treads at all,
On the inaccessible peak,
There must be flowers.
And if one soul, by Grace, should rise,
They’ll find the bloom… with chastened eyes.
They kneel in the temple of silence,
Where echoes dare not break the air—
The chosen, the cold, and the blameless,
Alone are permitted there.
As the four seasons pass,
When a woman adorns the attire of the season,
The season turns its page.
A man carefully selects his seasonal clothes,
Yet the season continues to gaze back at me.
‘The Flower and the Bee’
To a single bee,
The flower seems to bloom in full grace.
The bee appears to be dreaming,
Yet the flower reaches out toward another dream.
Beyond that distant mountain, the flower
still blooms.
Age, baby steps across the icy pond
scorpions tap-tap-tap the flesh
the sun hovers brittle and honest.
An unknown selects the spot
passages are drilled then gleaned
seasons tangle-miracles are imminent.
The line quivers, age dons a child's heart
silver thrash is coaxed into silence-
as memories flaunt their fractured crowns
...a wall, a vow, a flag encased in glass
the birth of birdsong-whispers of loves long dead.
A bird bleeds color along the shore
age thinks the truest smile
is the one performed alone.
Evening's grand candles commence
crooning a miracle's lament.
Only then does age re-enter the ice forest
leaving the pond alone but unforgotten.
The gates of Hell are sworn to bore
Ghiberti’s doors that guard their shore.
For who sets fate if truth is tore?
With paths that shine and gleam,
Leaves binds of souls unseen;
From grace I watched her gently fall,
A treacherous path that roots the wall.
Where pride arose where love was small,
My humility stayed,
A hostage left to fade.
Good intentions poured as stone,
This walkway hardened, now my own.
Paradise by man we've known,
Life doubts the gilded lies,
While truth within it blinds.
An angel came with wings of wind,
A blessing soaked in pains unhinged.
Attention traced through sins, we grinned.
I listened, voice restrained,
Still trembled when set aflame.
Foolishly, I tried to start,
Belief held firm within my heart.
Deceived by pretense from our start,
God selects a tool,
To reward a fool.
The truth we chase remains unseen,
Through gates of Hell with skies serene.
Our hearts endure the in-between.
What a rhythm to find if these gates still remember me.
---
(Apologies, I could not find an option for cinqopet or iambic tetrameter, so labeling as rhyme)
In the evening quiet hours silence speaks loudly of her
while outside the stars forget to twinkle and the moon hides its face
until morning sun brightens day and sparkles on dewdrops.
He recalls her laughter when spring flowers begin to bloom
each one chosen carefully as if she knew they would long outlast
her temporary stay with him upon this hallowed earth.
There are thorns on the summer roses that are quick to prick
the unwary garden wanderer as he selects the perfect
bloom for lost love now sleeping beneath a marble marker.
Winter arrives quite suddenly with icy cold despair
and wind whipping drafts against the lonely cabin once built for her
his rose of youth long dead and gone he lays his head to rest.
In chambers of the mind, we store each day,
Each lesson wrapped in wonder, fear, or joy.
What matters most will never fade away.
The smell of chalk, the light at morning's ray,
First bicycle, first book, beloved toy
In chambers of the mind, we store each day.
Not facts alone, but how they came to stay:
The teacher's smile, the moment of deploy
What matters most will never fade away.
Through neural corridors, memories replay,
Some bright as copper, some we can't employ.
In chambers of the mind, we store each day.
The brain selects what's worthy of display:
Love, laughter, fear, emotions that employ
What matters most will never fade away.
So when we teach, we must find ways to weigh
Not just content, but context to enjoy.
In chambers of the mind, we store each day,
What matters most will never fade away.
In youth, we laughed with a stupid friend,
Wandering the streets all night without an end.
Friends are few, time is scarce, now here we are,
Regretting in sorrow, as we ponder so far.
Life, like a sieve, sifts and selects,
Those who are soft clay, do not connect.
In youth, not yet molded like cement clay,
When grown, like sand, they drift away.
When a mother bird decides to build a nest
She selects a spot that she deems is best.
The sheer survival of her species rest
On the precious eggs she lays in that nest.
When God decided he would build a home
The entire universe He would comb
To find the spot that He knew would be best
For His image-bearers to safely rest.
Science confirms God chose the ideal spot
To sustain all forms of life on this dot.
When the creation of the orbs was done,
The earth was the right distance from the sun.
After the holy pair were placed on the earth
God’s daily visit filled their hearts with mirth.
After sin, God came down with man to dwell
And then to die in man’s place and taste hell.
When He comes again to make earth anew
He’ll dwell with His saints eternally through.
God will leave His throne in heaven above
to live on earth with the people He loves.
Greedy vine spirals smother monoliths
Spider fern moss, fairy forest vertical
Soaks in secrets, promise admonished
Water trawled crevice, creek cervical
Church canopy arch angel honours
Wing finger cool fires praise prancing
Laser selects sections, bark polished
Licked by flitting demure madonnas
Eight afore taped to trees keen tropical
Each fresh capes the chapel innocent
Suckers strung hearts hung over tendrils
Hundred year hardness rots, wet spent
Mighty trunk rips open room charcoal
Doorway discloses disaster clandestine
Bluebeard’s bride wives winding sparkle
Shon hopeful on nymph number nine
3rd of July
Daintree Dancing
Yahweh selects the weak; wasn't he, yet, strong like iron?
Like a daylily, he exposed himself before the Lord.
His flesh was weak; didn't he, yet, fight wars like a lion?
He, as a poet, proved his word was sharper than his sword.
Which poem on earth could be greater than the smallest psalm?
We try to add notations to his great composition.
His failures, to his very self and others, did bring harm.
Didn't God Yahweh allow him to face competition?
His mind changed, like his vague vegetable and fruit salads.
His ethics, like the Indian Qutub Minar, stood firm.
His greatness lies in obeying God's will amidst all hazards.
He did, in each of his thoughts, words, and actions, Yaheh's term
Did he fulfil all that was said about him? I don't know.
David went, I see, doing well as far as he could go.
spontaneity too needs fuel
so it draws nectar from source
being the reservoir of the universe
holding all existence in its womb
and yet there within it it selects
effervescence of an octave
correspondent to affinity
of collective memory
within our mind
wherefrom it surges
as a hue of that colour
at which our heart still beats
leaving a unique imprint in space
I love the wrinkles upon her face
Each one completes a story
Of a time when we were younger
Living life in all her glory
I love the gray hair on her head
Each caused by a new worry
That we conquered as a team
For which we need not be sorry
I love the age spots on her flesh
Each worn like a badge of honor
I’m aware of each new award
God selects to pin upon her
I love the creaks of her bones
When she bends to sit beside me
Each note adding beauty to the song
Played by our tandem life calliope
Bulky ute voyeur selects sleek sporty stalion
Driving by, supersedes her oversized sedan
Wide wheel arches have Porche comparison
Voracious engine's enthuse easily enchants
Large car cast dispelled by lacklustre Calais
Original conjur 370Z parked beside boring
Low leg swing exclusive slide in, magic valet
Over revved start stabs adrenalin assuring
Our dear Dara, choice contacted in December
Available last minute to test drive his beast
Black gloss road boss, enlarged 'lungs' terror
Capable crazy bitumen baby, tester pleased
Ultimate Man concurs, the amenable outcome
Keys in her hand a few days after, aura froze
Couldn't imagine huge generosity from anyone
Racing car reap, increase on what she sows
Merry go round roads, another showoff slotted
Silver pole stabilised glides in Surfers cycle
Crosslane carousel onlookers, briefly besotted
By hot hoof nimble Nissan race horse style
28th March
Too Great of a Man
Gaia embraces the root network of the world’s fleshiest trees
sand, stone, clay and black dirt swirl around her ancient core
gemstones of emerald, opal and topaz lie dormant
oceans figure out a place to sit on her lap
volcanoes and wind tunnels announce
fire and ice make room for themselves
Gaia reorganizes the elements and elementals
her feminine power welcomes them with open psyche
watching oaks, willows, elms, hickories and maples are validated
as are radishes, carrots, corn, beets, apples, pears and peaches
she selects none over another
robins, cardinals, butterflies, and dragonflies appear
the goddesses of the overworld cheer
A peacock to some,
but to others a confident and close friend.
Confidence, humorous,
displays feathers,
selects the perfect mate.
Unbeknownst is he of the
defects
within his selection, too much time
lusting the outside,
never fully knowing the inside.
Secure in his vibrant colors,
overconfident that his mate would never stray.
Too concerned with the outward appearance
of those within their circle.
Neglected is she who grooms the offspring and tends the nest.
Healthier to leave to the injuries she's received,
yet flaws hold her bonded.
Too late you come with the validations
which she required.
Divulged is the straying
with those of lesser colors.
Injurious is it to your
prideful mantle.
Both are now imperfect,
insecure in being,
and require a pal full of time.
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