poetry & things

Poems

Silver lake

In the spring of warm grassy lawns, silver threaded

song sparrows high amid the bright lily bowers

they fly gold drenched in the morning hours

in the deep peace of this sanctuary shelter

we are far from the city’s maddening swelter

here beneath shade trees and roses, we sip tea

soft we float like petals, a dream life in these hills

smell the ocean rain, blue the way the sky spills

we walk scented jasmine trails back home

come to rest in each others arms

before this resplendent day is gone

with nature becoming one

connected to all things

we are never alone.

When I don’t see you

When I don’t see you, here or in the places we’ve been

in prairie meadows or in these trailing hills

I am lonesome, listening to how the ocean spills

blue waves play a sorrowful song

I get lost in thought, ruminate long on our walks

my feet here in these tiny flowers, the ones that we picked

I think of all the gardens, yesterday, today and tomorrow

my eyes fly far off with birds, disappearing

into some heavenly place, where you are.

When you leave me

Alone in this silent desert, burned indelibly by sun

after the call, after the blue, red fall of flames

here, after the dancing scorch of fire

I am left to the smouldering doldrums of desire

this bed, now an empty space, a wordless, lifeless place

here, where I have slowed, my movement stagnates

the memories, the sheets – they suffocate

some days feeling so trapped by love

I can only think to run, think how to untangle again

still some days I dream a life with you

in colorfully painted, magnificent hues.

Before I sleep

Some days I wake

in the cooling clouds and rain

float into the unknown of day

sometimes I am nearly froze

in wintry dreams of streams and ponds

sometimes my feet in forests, treading mossy greens

I walk amid summer trees, that shine in a sun path, glistening

one day with autumn leaves, I’ll go falling back to earth, so soon to sleep.

Love notes

When I can no longer discern the path

when I am seeking a seer’s looking glass

I walk miles of desert alone, travel years from home

to stand hot or cold, in a wilderness, fragile or strong

in storms, sun sweltered and windblown.

I believe in fire, the burning into ashes reborn

look for defining lines, watch for the telling signs

I listen for the music of words, spoken softly sweet

for love notes, tucked in heart, to keep.

Painting of a shell

Somewhere in the red lands

thick with oils, she painted sands

clay hills of rouged mud rain

a sliver layered blue, a sun sky yellow

that broke from rust colored rain, from clouds of brown

it was found, a prominent grey, a white washed shell

stark amid the scorch of desert

a piece of ocean that from her pocket fell.

Prince – the beautiful one

Don’t make me lose my mind

you were so hard to find

baby can’t you stay with me tonight?

we’ll party like it’s 1999.

Why must you play this game?

when I only want to see you laughing

in the purple rain, purple rain

You know I won’t make a fuss

cause you don’t have to be rich

you don’t have to be cool to rule my world

I just want your extra time and your Kiss!

Don’t make me wait here alone and blue

cause darling I would die for you

you say – I’m not your lover

I’m not your friend, I am something

that you’ll never comprehend

and I would die for you

darling if you want me to, want me to

I’m not a woman

I’m not a man

I am something that

you’ll never understand

and I would die for you

the beautiful ones

we always seem to lose.

Shapeshifter of peace

Blackbird, your wings – reminiscent of ashen skies

iridescent as blue morpho butterflies

the impaling of your sharpened eyes

tricky black witch, all knowing, you cackle

shapeshifter, a Yaqui Indian

desert bird, a grackle

Stirring, you stare me down

shaking mesquite leaves to the ground

the air is a thick musk of sage

smudged for peace, for prayers

a wish to cease the wars we wage

With vision, pure of heart

this message of love unfurls

breath peace – peace

in this world

Sometimes

When I write these things

my thoughts fly with birds

sometimes grey in storms

sometimes winged in skies

so feathery

When I sing this song

my heart goes in beats, bittersweet

sometimes heavy held, my sorrow spilled

sometimes warmed, red flushed

and fluttery

When I paint this canvas

my brush moves in labyrinthine moods

sometimes shades, darkest blue cerulean

sometimes flowers white, soft as clouds

upon the page, floating heavenly

Spring pond

White fleshed, the wild roots

cold in caves of soil, the bulbs, the tubers

burst through aged brown clay, wet through mud slick rains

sun drunk buds, of tulip leaves, petals painted pink

music, the chirp and groan of ponds, a soft bedded mossy home

of woven fern and forest fronds, built for night’s invisible frogs

dogwoods, white as moons, calls heard lovelorn

through an open window.

The night field

It is late, the sky is black slate, coal

a desolate moon glow, cold

this silent world flecked with tiny lights

diffused amid the softness of clouds

the night, only a blooming dawn

a field of stars that come.

Wooded pond

I have come to these woods, after the rain

rivulets, sweet where droplets in soul have pooled

where clear water washes away blue

I have come to hear birds in spring

to watch the air of butterflies floating,

newly winged, faceted and sparkling

I’ve come to feel the cool earth, green with leaves

my feet soft upon mossy carpeting

toes intermingled in a fragrant field

cool of hyacinth emerging

in a swirling world, of unfurling fronds

the sun streaming across emerald pond.

Altar of dawn

In this desert

I touch the ocean within,

here where I abandon all plans,

I spend hours watching cloud formations

of flowers blooming violet, red.

I travel to the sanctuary of the soul

each morning, sit silent

at the altar of dawn.

I fall

For you the woods, the moon

night paths, I breathe the air attuned

treading starlit, sleep and dream

ever closer my love, to you

bright from the sky, like stars

ever into your arms, I fall

and fall.

Looking glass

In the water, some tears erased

below the surface, they slip away

only a watery grave of what used to be

a mirage, a vision of possibility

a looking glass, this moon-green sea.

Of fire forged

December’s child

with fire you were forged

your eyes are liquid amber poured

always I dream to kiss

your perfect lips divinely cast

the sweetness of your breath

the warmth that moves across my flesh

your hands and arms are sculpted bronze museum art

indelibly in mind when you are far

the hot of your delicious mouth

traveling gently, slowly south.

The woods in spring

In spring, green along the river

amid ancestral foothills, we walk deer trails

wild in the woods of scented pine

of silver sycamores, silken barked

stark, they pale against bluest skies

their new leaves green and glistening

we are listening for songbirds, for a language without words

transfixed, through this portal, reborn in this world

warm winds speak sweet and susurrus of spring

melodious they sing, leaving far behind

the cold, the dead of winter.

This moment, with you

Verily we are suspended

to one another invisibly threaded

gold spun, finely woven

we breathe the air of summer

silken petaled, softly subtle

through these woods treading sun dappled

we come to rest, in a rosy heaven

lose the world of whirling much too fast

to gain the moment, lose the future and the past.

Under spring moons

gentle water ripples

snow of falling flower petals

soft the landing of your lips

we merge like clouds in dream

become one, learn to breathe in sync

Watching petals unfurl

Watching the budding vine of petals unfurl

all through winter I am looking for spring

the daffodil yellow greens, the lilac blossoming

of tiny star flower florets, sweet the songbird chorus

moss softly sunning, the trickle of forest creeks running

the remembrance and fragrance, the pungent warmth of rain

drops, wet and round, bounced from trees, upon my face falling down

cool splash, the startling of my eyelash

wet washing and alive, the resurrection, the cycle

of all things again reborn.

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