Wine colored sand dunes
An old tome lays unscathed
Under Peter's feet.
She was found face down beside her bed
dead long before they kicked in the door
of the deteriorating house that reeked
of cat piss that had soaked into the
rotting planks of the bare wood floor
the plaster ceilings falling in
surrounded by mounds of detritus
boxes of odds and ends that had
been bestowed upon her by those
she had in their last days cared for
Every eye dry at the memorial service
not a single tear shed
for the mother who had decades ago
been abandoned to raise three children on her own
and had died alone
Under the full moon in the backyard of his home
he had been so proud to be able to buy
only a few months before
she’d planned to visit that same day
where she would now be a permanent guest
we transferred the ashes
mixed with the powder of pulverized bone
from the simple wooden box
into the ceramic urn I had helped him to choose
decorated with wine colored roses
fearful I was witnessing my own future
In the wine-colored dark of the night, as we stroll
in the dim-lit gardens of our honeymoon hotel,
we listen to the orchestra, as violins vibrate,
highlighting our love with tender music of olden times.
In our embrace we whisper sweet nothings.
We savor the singing of a choir of crickets
as they jump among the sweet-smelling petunias,
listen, guitars tune in an amorous crescendo of love.
We’re in a world, our very own, a world of love
which beckons as it's time for affections,
that echo through the stillness of the night.
Whilst hand in hand our hearts are warm.
Our passage is illuminated with fiery fireflies
emitting their oscillating unearthly glow,
a flash dance or a moonlight ballet,
so pleasing to the sight, a feast of nature enhancing
euphoria that increases in a culmination
of a passionate harmonious symphony of love.
I am just getting started
Wait a little bit
I have seen your blue iris
Do not forget
You promised me
We will go together
For the blue forest
And look for the beehive
In a moonlit night
It is fall in the air
Time to gather honey
For the coming chill days
And you know the thrill
Of collecting sweet polkas
Of wine-colored drops
Some people grow aversion
For the butterflies
To convert them into dry flowers
We two while in forest
Will bring out butterflies
While picking up honey
I am just getting started
Won't take much time
I know moon won't wait
You have shown me the beehive
Holding nectar of mundane life
We will taste it in moonlight
From a dream world
Will come out the boats and guitar
Toward the tunnel
That lead to the blue and green
Harvest from brimming trees
Hold your dreams on
Keep drawing the painting
Of orange fire
On the black canvas
I am just getting started
I do see the beehive
And the pink cups
September 21, 2019
I'm just getting started Poetry Contest
Sponsored by:John Hamilton
The fire logs glow, flickering to and fro
in her eyes he sees champagne dreams of love
the soft adagio plays a velvet tune of jazzing blow
right atop the hearth, she's fitted like a glove
Red hair flaming, ruby lips untamed her rubicon
a blush, acclaims her cheeks await the dawn;
Each dancer holds on cue precaution to the wind
style and grace in every move "amour est bleue"
with burning eyes of here, go rescind ,
a love is built on arcs of passion's queue;
Scarlet thoughts roseate skin enflamed a marathon
of amoureuse, bending arching longing one on one ;
Her hair a crayon colored Autumn proffers romance
and all the philharmonic musings of a lovely dream
together they loop meandered agile as a water dance
rushing towards each other skin to skin seam to seam ;
Wine colored kisses taking in a world of bless
garnet hearts of shine never to confess
they once lay dormant in the crook of night
now fired, ready to ignite....
Contest Name: SEASONAL OR UNSEASONAL
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
October 22, 2018
"Speak softly love and hold me against your warm heart
Sharing a love that only few have ever known"
beautiful words, a gift from my friend Andy, isn't it just dandy
a work of art to admired, to be inspired
but what I'm spilling out is only typical, critical just for a contest
How I feel isn't happy, isn't love; maybe it's the wrong kind of day
but these words just make it worse, make me want to curse
put my head on a hat rack and exchange it for something better
Look at me I'm lyrical but I'm only on a cynical little tirade
so forgive me, don't hold it against me
it's all in the measure of today, just give me wind and a raincoat
not vows of love and wine colored days
This isn't mockery or an atrocity
I acknowledge love exists and I feel it; felt it, bled it, yes it's real
I'm living it, dealing with it, enjoying it presently
but today is a day where I'm just numb to that kind of thing
So I turn off these deep velvet nights Andy so elegantly proclaimed
I just rather sleep than verbally fight about
how I ruined this song in light of the world they call day
Springtime has erupted; life's everywhere
With a fine chartreuse film that floats through the air.
The live oaks are blooming along with golden mesquite-
The scents of renewal are verdant and sweet.
Chameleon fields that change overnight;
A plethora of color; an artists delight
Yellow, so bright it hurts the eyes,
Covers the hills like a huge sunshine tide.
Pastures of green and wild onion white
Deceive the perception with flowered highlights.
Black and white calves frolic and play
Through the myriad of colors on display.
Seas of Indian paintbrush in brash scarlet red
Abut pink morning primrose, gently lifting its head;
Kaleidoscope gaillardia next to wine-colored phlox,
Mad impressionist Nature has pulled out the stops
Painting great Texas with colors galore
Then deciding to add just one color more
And up shoots the bonnets in startling blue.
Our states flower emblem, a salute to you.
JSC 2003