I seek the edge of the world I know,
to find the answers to questions that clearly
could help advance this problem, though,
I lose much of what matters, dearly.
The risk is worth the cost and I,
about the path, ‘neath lilac sky
continue towards the blanketing sands
and waters that maybe understand.
I find it at last, beyond my reach,
as I walk down onto the dim-lit beach,
far out against the twilight sky,
alone, with God, my questions and I.
Ask and it shall be given,
if not on earth, finally, in Heaven.
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 10:56 AM UTC
I walk about the path set by
the patch of jonquil spring in bloom,
Nice, now, there is not one save I,
For the springtime flowers, ‘tis just more room.
Down through the low and over high,
the trees wave at their passerby
and I, in happily settled tones,
assure them it is a friend that roams.
And as I come to journey’s end,
I find that in the forest shade
their peace, oh trees of sunshine tend
however old, ne’er begin to fade.
For in the summer meadow’s blooms,
one shall find no dusty tombs.
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 10:56 AM UTC
When I consider the garden in bloom,
I often pick a single flower to take
and put in the shade of my sullen room,
for perhaps a bit happier the room to make.
Lodged in languid emptiness it stares
from it’s protective vase on the windowsill
and secretly I wish it’s fares
to be less than mine, mine greater still.
But sooner, rather than later,
the flower withers, slowly, surely,
and the darkness seems to be something greater,
and I wish for the sun to shine, ever purely.
Tis not the flowers of the garden that bring
the birds in the sunshine of morn’ to sing.
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 10:55 AM UTC
Bring me the sweet blowing breeze of November.
The sweet scent of the late blossoms…
and the peace of the forest clearing.
Let me have again the smell of pine,
the sound of rain on the roof,
the taste of kisses and the brush of soft skin.
Bring me the wisps of the clouds in the summer,
the smell of the moist earth,
the touch of grass on my feet.
Let the wind blow from the north,
the birdsong sound from their old nests,
the sound of their wings beating south.
I embrace the earth as if to kiss it.
I embrace it’s peace, it’s allamande of sounds,
the polyphony of smells and flavors.
bring me the cold of December,
the chills of January,
and let me rest in beautiful solitude,
in wonderful lonliness,
until I’m forgotten again.
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 10:54 AM UTC
Looms the myrtle and drapes the willow.
I ponder the forest and it’s crisp cool air,
and wish on the stars again to be there:
In the shade of the trees, in the arms of the wind,
to fall asleep in this quiet, serene din.
Falls the acorn and sweeps the oak.
I ponder the forest clearing and about myself look,
As I listen to the murmur of the woodland brook,
and remember the fell of it’s cold running water
and wish on my stars to return here later.
Full hangs the moon and to sleep I fall.
Yearning for the forest, and being away from it all.
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 10:54 AM UTC
Men **** women, and women **** men.
They **** them with their words and then:
as the words, at the victims heart now gnaw,
the speaker acts as if they hadn’t spoken at all.
Men **** men, and women **** women.
As soon as the heart on their sleeves are given,
they’re broken by those with lack of care,
or left to float away, as feathers on the air.
Words hurt people, and people speak words.
The transitivity makes sense when brought to bear
on the matter at hand; normally unheard,
except those who take the time to care.
Speak with love to those who have none.
Speak with love to those who do.
Because when you feel like you’re all alone,
those whom you spoke to will remember you.
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 10:54 AM UTC
Given the rarity of shooting stars,
perhaps it’s not best to use one
in it’s capacity for wishgranting,
to ask for your affections;
to which I’ve become nearly a slave.
Given the beauty of the lake in summertime,
perhaps it’s not best that we sit by it.
Your beauty, in all it’s splendour
would make the lake seem dead,
and rob the world of it’s worth.
Given the depth of my love for thee,
perhaps it’s best for you to stay away.
I may not be able to part from you,
and like all flowers kept indoors,
without freedom, you wouldn’t bloom.
Given that the star has not fallen,
and the lake is still beautiful,
and you are free as the sky and the surface of the lake,
I’ll be content with the idea of love,
and set my eyes in the stars above.
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 10:53 AM UTC
Now once there was a maiden, a maiden was she.
She had a big heart for men like me.
She told me "O Joshua, just wait for me."
"I have to try one last time if only for me."
Now Joshua saw her tear drop, her teardrop saw he,
And he knew down deep inside how great is would be.
But he took up his music and gathered his robes
To prepare to make his travel down a dark and lonely road.
She said, "Now wait a minute; Here, take this little key."
"It'll unlock my heart when you come back to me."
O Joshua was a glad man, a glad man was he,
Saying "God bless that woman, her heart leaps up to thee!"
All I ask my lady as you read this poetry,
That in the dark times, remember little me.
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 10:53 AM UTC
The starlight caught a glimmer, a sparkle scarcely seen.
There was a little cherub just waiting in a tree.
it said, "Now, O Wand'rer, The Lord God sent me
To Grant some comfort; some comfort for thee."
The Wand'rer leaned forward, upon his crooked staff
and searched for his heartstrings left in the mountain pass.
"O cherub," Said the Wand'rer, "Please hearken to me...
I have but one request, if no trouble it would be."
"Please take now this flower, picked from fields of peonies,
and bring it to my lady; tell her not it is from me."
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 10:52 AM UTC
A boy and a girl met in distant wood.
The boy read to her poetry as best as he could.
She blushed and she curtsied to ease his nerves,
for his youth and his passions were no less than hers.
They roamed amidst the moss hanging down from the Oak
and hand on her ***** My Lady, she spoke:
"Dear boy now take easy my kiss on thy cheek,
for never I'd thought you'd make me feel so weak."
"My Lady sweet, I kiss your feet
for never I'd thought I'd an Angel meet."
The boy now more a man took his girl in his arms,
and knew she'd succumbed to his love, not his charms.
They walked towards the house leaving not one alone;
her father awaited, for her to be home.
He asked for her hand, may they soon become one;
One Hand and One Heart until all was done.
The father smiled kindly, "My son, she is yours.
Take care for my daughter, my bright Morning Star."
"My Lady sweet, I kiss your feet
for never I'd thought I'd an Angel meet."
The time came for a wedding 'midst springtime flowers,
And people gathered candy with toys 'neath the boughs.
He looked and saw his lady with bridal throng
and imagined, and remembered his midnight song.
"My Lady sweet, I kiss your feet
for never I'd thought I'd an Angel keep."
She hovered near the altar with peony flowers
and looked up through a white veil for what seemed hours.
The pastor with his bible said five sweet words,
and lovers, now angels flew up with the birds.
Long after laid an angel; stood all her kin round,
for later that day she would be underground.
her husband, her lover, felt something was wrong;
she could not go to sleep without hearing her song:
"My Lady sweet, I kiss your feet
for never I'd thought I'd an Angel meet.
My Lady sweet, O cease to weep;
for though you now sleep in my heart, you, I'll keep."
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 10:51 AM UTC