Moth wings come by ...
Batting at the window screen,
To get in, they try and try
Where the light is seen
Afraid of the dark, are you?
Still, I cannot let you near,
No matter what you do
It is things like you I fear
Not that you can hurt me
Like a hornet when she stings,
I just do not want to be ...
Batted by soft, moth wings.
The bumble bee
Is a humble bee,
And rarely does she sting
Somberly she flies
Until somebody tries,
To break her little wing
She will turn on you
If you unwisely do,
Such an unnecessary thing
Leave her upon her rose
Rather than step on her toes,
She wants to enjoy the spring
In need of a humbling quiet
More than a bumbling riot,
A hand too close can bring.
a Dalmatian wing
flickers~
white breath
freckled
with small
mid-air shadows.
On a wing and a prayer
a soldier is shunted
here and there
The wing is his fear
the prayer is sincere
Since the night you offered your wing
You have held the gold key to my soul
you have buried me into your spirit
you have blessed me with righteous hands
you have poured your goodness onto my heart
like olive oil from a jar of stone
and provided me with comfort and rest
from all of my heart aches and afflictions
like a bed without springs
since the night you offered your wing
No morning hoarfrost covered meadows and hills,
just flowers tinted in ochre coloring.
Early blooms of wild jonquil and daffodils ~
A new season has arrived and taken wing.
Farewell Winter snow, and your blustery chills.
Robins trill in welcoming voices, "It's Spring."
Earth gives birth to budded trees and buzzing bees.
Advent's fragrant scents are carried in the breeze.
I suddenly realize
that the torn wing
of a a yellow-tailed butterfly
breaks my heart.
It happens
every time I see one.
Stronger flying things heal
and survive the spring,
and hopefully, the fall.
Just maybe, the ever-relentless
Godfather: winter will stop
his monologuing.
I will move you to the
soft grass
where no one will crush
your delicate, dying beauty.
A life flew by
after I sat down
and saw you die.
There is balance, even in death,
and so much to admire
in the life and contoured colors
of today.
One hundred words isn’t enough
to celebrate a life, however little.
You are my fading beauty,
You are my dying queen.
Cruise ships appear over the horizon
As white
As the crest of tidal waves
Surging to harbor
No I said
To hell with cruise ships
To ride inside a machine
My wife and I
Prefer
To sit beside
The purr of ocean with opened books
Sun on our shoulders all day
A mom in a string bikini
Wrestling her morning pre-teen by his neck
With applied sunscreen
At low tide
I walk half a mile out to sea
On my knees
My wife watches me
A Royal Tern with a black tuft atop his head
Pesters a female until she is exhausted
Or that annoyed
She looks him in the eye
Then lifts her legs
And flies
As fast as her wings will carry her
Straight out to sea
And as far as I can see
She never turns around or looks back
But he pursues
Blind to her wake
He will follow
Over metal ships and the flesh of the horizon
Over the humpbacks of the spouting waves
He will follow her to where the sun and moon
Are born each day
He will follow
To that round shore of the tired spent and nests
Until she rests
And turns to him
Come my love come with me
Let us be one with the sea.
In the churlish church of the frozen chosen
Where they're called to be emboldened
Though mugwumps may frown
And complain of the weight of their crown
In God’s Kingdom they’re advancing as scolded
And in this is how God does promote
Through suffering and removal of mote
Through pain we are free
To use our free will as it be
Of the irenic scene we must take note
Do you hear how the strings sweetly sing?
From the harp to the autoharp’s ring
With guitar and with bass
Choir voices in place
Their music makes Heaven take wing
So let us help one another in accord
With God’s movement on this earthly chessboard
What we forfeit when we don’t pray
How we reject others who need help in this way
Help us our most precious and forgiving Lord
Radiant robes reflecting white
Hearts of hope heavenly light
Appearing human in human form
Yet more beautiful than any born
Benevolent beings that guide us
A messenger of God and His love
Words that carry us like a dream
To God’s heart with feathered wing
Beneath the moon
in a quiet garden space
silver light rests
softly on each place
A black cat waits
with eyes that never stray
watching a bird
who lifts and flies away
His fur absorbs the depth
of endless night
his gaze is fixed
upon her fleeting flight
She cuts the sky
with wings both strong and free
and takes his heart
where it can never be
Her song drifts down
like something almost true
a sound that makes his longing
feel brand new
He knows her world
is air and open sky
while his is earth
where shadows slowly lie
She was not meant to land
or stay too long
he was not built
to join her song
So, in that garden
still beneath the moon
he loves a dream
That vanished far too soon.
I wish we were blessed
as Luciano De Crescenzo was…
to see everyone as a sister or brother…
When he said:
We are each of us angels with only one wing
and we can only fly…by embracing one another
If the majority of people have concerns about illegal immigration only for the government to call them racist,
And, that same majority of people turned around and openly declared themselves racist,
would the government in turn govern the country according to the populous opinion and fulfil its duty to the people, by running the country in line with the demands of the people, by doing whatever is necessary so as to deport illegal immigrants upon arrival thus easing the concerns of the majority who were forced to embody the racist narrative in order to become legitimised?
If so wouldn’t it make sense for the government to see illegal immigration concerns as just that, unlawful acts of migration, and deal with the problem so that the majority aren’t forced to embrace racism as a core belief?
Double Con Don says he hates it,
But we know he lies more than a bit.
It’s not the hate he’s feeling—
It’s displaced anger he’s concealing.
Is it for the many times she missed campaign rallies,
Or as First Lady, having poor performance tallies?
Maybe it’s for the absence from the White House
Or from the bedroom as a spouse.
So, he redirects his anger at the East Wing
And destroys it with the fiat of a king.
Did he give her any warning or destroy it in a blur,
Removing the First Lady’s office to spite her?
Hope is not a thing
resting in one place,
the poet said hope
is a feathered thing,
I think it takes wing
and flies to hearts
too numb to sing,
hearts too heavy,
hearts too weary,
hearts beating
out of time,
out of rhyme~
hope comes,
breathe in...
rise!
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