Short Candled Poems

winter awakens
life's humble beatitudes 
iced with candled glow

12/22/2018...

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PENETRATING EYE~LIDS SHUT APON DREAMING,
SILENTLY AMORE, I LAY, SHIVERING NUTORIOUSLY,
FOR THAT ONE MOMENT, HE LOOKS, AT ME WITH WARM
FIRE IN HIS CANDLED EYES, WHERE A BURNING LOVES DESIRE,
BECOMES CAPTIVATED,IN THE MOON~LIGHTS STARS BED ROOM,
I HAVE RELEASED MY INNER BODY, TO PASSIONATELY GIVE HIM,
MY ALL,WITH NO HESSITATION.......

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THE ALABASTER BALL

Earth sent invitations
To a danse one night
Requesting all invited
Please – to come in white.

The glass-coached clouds assembled
And the Ebon Sky
Banked its brightest fire,
Snuffed each candled eye.

Then the Winds belled music
Set a whirling pace
And down the Heavens
Waltzed the Snows,
In their finest lace....

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Selling uranium to Putin through CFIUS
Made less social sense than contracting syphilis
Unless to grow a Global reset chrysalis
Aiding American transformation abyss.

Putin may well employ Wyoming yellow cake
To cower Europeans with nuclear bake
Candled with cancerous cumulus mushroom clouds,
Granting his covering Ukraine with a death shroud....

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Listen to poem:

As Memory Serves

A mere bump in time...
as bottled cork pops,
engaged second hand...
conveyed decibels,
dons melting,
against that instant,
"It's a boy!", resonates.
Reflecting after those many years,
I smiled while he blows...
his 44th candled flame,
~~best is poured.

gifted memories
timelessly bottled uncorks
~~aged wine stirs in ice

2020 June 30...

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and I forgot reading love in the diagrams
like constructing great space ships

we fear it’ll never finish 
and so
lancing us into the stars
though how rich life is
in every petal
even over the screen of imagination’s furnace
burning in roman-candled air-raids
forcing the power of our own love in front of us
as the only real and almighty staggering truth

as sought in tip-toes
for poetry is tip-toes...

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Gentle Egg


She candled an egg in her soft hands
	protecting the fragile, 
inspecting with light;
Cusping 
Like either horn
Of a crescent moon
When floated aloft on two 
	dexterous 
		fingers.

Was she not peering into the future?
Making a determination perhaps
Even listening,
Searching for signs
	of life?
or something more mundane ---

Broken vessels
Spots of blood
promising rot ...

Yolkers
	like me......

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