Short Purist Poems

I am a purist,
want my haiku to always
be five seven five....

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inside or outside
    reflected what's directed
       the purist fool's gold...

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Red.
It's love at its
Purist. It blooms intact
then love turns a numb, cold shoulder.
The frost....

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many daffodils
beautiful on windowsills
narcissus appeals

one yellow divine
single or double refine
purist flower mine

dainty and sublime
standing hours at a time
waving in their prime

*For Carol Browns "What's The Buzz" Haiku contest...

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Look through the "windows" of my soul..
See their "pain" as it takes its toll.

My heart beats with each tear dropped.
Try as I may they cannot be stopped.

Hoping one day my heart will be filled; with you again.
With the purist of love, that we once had; until the end....

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The atheist merely seeks truth
Distanced from blind belief
Upon seeing, he nods forsooth
Turning a brand new leaf

Witnessing each entrée 
Nonjudgmental and free
Thread of truth, holding key

Truthful purist
The atheist 

04-November-2021
Quietus ...

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Only When The Hope Dies

"Love! Isn't it beyond win and lose? Isn't it giving and unconditional? Winning over someone and desire are too materialistic words to define its divinity. It is sublime and humble.
It attains it's purist and truest nature only when the Hope dies, he replied her."


25th Day of July 2016...

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Leaves bleed and stain the white sidewalk their bodies blown into the wind 
I close my eyes and lay on my horn letting the sound penetrate the purist parts 
When they open iv smothered every dreadful memory and shut open mouths
The smoke ascends
And yet 
I'm left still with two hands
And your throat between them...

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Scale a bough; and hold onto this
Astoundment, forevermore.
A curtain of leaf, parted for:
Life, and its glory, nested.

So in this world have I placed you.
With loving care, and foresight;
That which, on those wings of desire
Purist, does show you upborne.
Who, above, by your own new-born
Into hushed awe, too, is led....

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Oh that sweet love we crave
Freely given would enslave
Yes that yearning to belong
Just like the words to a song

Those feelings of sincerity
As love sleeps in parity
Slumbers deep, deep within
Purist hearts, dreams begin

Beyond the stars at rainbows fall
Dawns first light or sunsets call
I will reap this love I crave
And live the dream that she gave...

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Oh that such a PARAGON would appear
As one unexplained REVELATION only for me
Of the purist PULCHRITRUDE I can see
BLAZING toward me from one so dear
And having someone ADORE you this much
Is likened to avoiding a sinking of the EIGHT ball
Though it is somewhat of a DISCOMFORT should it fall
There's no denying CHARISMA laced with a magical touch



29 July 2018...

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Blue is labelled a moody color of low spirits
but so many beautiful things are of this hue.
Like wavy oceans with streaks of silver that fuel us.
Cornflower-iris -prairie bells garnishing our hearts
the blue gaze of newborns harboring the purist love
a robin's egg that will soon turn into nestled song
sapphire skies that bring us closer to our god
keeping galaxies and pink granite dreams aloft.

Blue is not a hue of the down and lowly,
but a splash of peace-tranquility and hope....

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