In this land of if only, I'd only have myself to reckon with
no real or imaginary people to fight with or have a tiff
In a world of seize and conquer I would feel no loss
I'd ride the ocean winds like an ancient Albatross
In a world of make believe I'd be Queen of fairies
grinding my worries away , I'd then pick berries
in a forest full of bears, tigers and wolves, I'd be
a minx with great stealth, I'd never want to flee
In a planet where stars moon and sun can be touched
I would make plans for a future that can't be botched
In a society that badges truth, compassion, empathy
I'd be happy as a lark in the sky, songful and free
In this land of if only, I'd be a wish that never dies ,
joining forces with all the conquerors of the skies.
Kitana Mansa what words speak me
there shredded or triffled
the shoes of tired men
Mansa Kitana sing that
you are songful
the son of pleasant persons
the headjoint of the flute
the carved dogwood tree
music that causes pleasure
are songs that bothers me
These are you songs
these are the inspirations for
coupling marriage
defined by scholars
never to
be confessed or unraveled
Cheerful, chirping little cherry---
crimson as the holly berry,
dressed in your vermillion best
with your pointy, feathered crest---
what a sight you are to see
perched atop a snowy tree.
Songful spirit of the pines,
streaking through the winter sky,
ne'er does your appearance cease
to bring a smile to my face.
Beau Brummell of backyard birds,
every dawn your song is heard---
distinctly sweet among the chorus
of the visitors from the forest---
brightening night's waning gloom
like the color of your plumes.
Friendly, feathered garden gnome,
be pleased to make this yard your own.
Winter, summer, fall or spring,
joy is when the redbird sings.
Venus in View
Oh, megalithic moon, shine your rays upon my beatific being
For in this jubilant June, our hearts aflutter forever fleeing
My Venus stands still, a Goddess of the crimson songful sky
Within a throbbing thrill, my love comes in with a soulful shy
Oh Aphrodite grant me courage as the jewels of heaven glow
May the oracles flaunty furnish our embrace of eternities echo
And thus our love will flourish for the petals of desire bestow.
June.22.2018
Seven lines of romantic heaven
Sponsored by: Silent One
All roads they say lead to Rome
But this one was leading towards home
A fiery storm brewing in fractions
Ripples surge to thirstily kiss the river’s mouth for reactions
The hubbub silenced with an inner raspy roar!
This scenic drive, a famished lovers’ galore
Latched securely and songful on the mountainous terrain
Forecast for the voyage; torrential romantic rain
There is more than one way, they say, to skin a cat
Specials for today- heartfelt cuddles, sheltered pecks, fragrant whispers and that tender pat.
The savouring of the pulpy gourmets roots the rhythm of lub-dub towards abrupt
So much balminess in the ‘Beautiful’ carriage; hearts are bound to erupt!
The night skies start to blanket over, home now, not so far
The hero of my movie; that gracefully-embroidered sweet red star
With the age of days in delight I would pose
And each time my pinning eyes would grace my pretty little red rose...
BUTTERFLIES OF BEAUTY
Silent songful wanderer, soaring free on the sky
conquering, unafraid to the golden rays of the sun,
fluttering either slow or fast, their colors show
like stemless flying flowers: red, orange, browns
unto gardens, rainforest, fields and prairie lands
off they are! From early morning until the night,
their quiet optimism: a lighthouse to any hopeful
delicate in beauty emerging from chrysalis womb.
Standing in each tooth-tip spot, they're like ballerinas
dancing and pausing as they do in lows and highs:
kissing blossoms curves for goods - a peaceful move
freezing and feeding effortless some onlookers eyes.
Seduced fingers reached to touch, glad most are missed.
Free. The majestic monarch is flying again, high. HIGH!
Such a natural canvass painted to every stop and flight,
beguiling more dreamers today, tomorrow and beyond...
______________________________________________________
Poetry Contest: BUTTERFLIES OF BEAUTY
***1st Place***
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose
Written January 10, 2016 @ 11:27 am
If you are the cold rapier of sovereignty
I'm the flames of hell that forge you
If you are the spread pallor of night
I'm the sleepless soul in your sullen
If you are the herald of mishap
I'm the ribbon of tan whose dust you awake
If you are the songful mockingbird
I'm the sylvan gourd twirling to your trills
If you are the darting trilobate arrow of retribution
I'm the billow whose back you surf
If you are the first born of Aphrodite
I'm the lost sea harbouring Uranus' genitalia
If you are the dirge of death
I'm the orchestra setting your symphony
If you are the sorcerer of the end
I'm the skull among the bones in your palm
If you are the pitiable mendicant
I'm the wretched jacket of holding your alms
If you are the cold rapier of sovereignty
I'm the scabbard kissing your blade
Deciduous
At a private party one rusting noon,
Green elm trees reveled with summer on its bier,
Gaily rousing a drowsy lagoon.
Some bathed their beak-scarred barks, those on the pier
Appeared to beckon birds come for songful fun;
For this they from the grave forest did run.
But soon their blades shall be bled, as
Amber leaves wring from brittle, weary boughs,
A purging of passions their hearts did house.
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