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is this craft that chose you, not defined by machine millimeters,
precision absolute, curvatures, so eye-pleasing,
they demonstrate no tolerance for tolerance of the
ordinary?

*the skill of words, too, cut so fine,
find the  extraordinary within, refine, refine, refine,
shave away the trite, the reused, discard the instant recognition,
unusable
part of http://hellopoetry.com/poem/958457/machinist-tool-thyself-for-joe/

written by me in a different guise
Perhaps on an idle afternoon
when sadness lies heavy on chest
your eyes shimmering like crystal moon
upon my poems would come to rest.


Words of love and touching her shore
yearnings sharp as edge of knife
wrote my mind of twenty four
gathering all from a half seen life.

You flip the pages as years roll down
reach to where past high tides sailed
the ink flows soft as calm of dawn
in peace of void when heights are scaled.

You close the book breathing a sigh
your eyes are wet of misty dew
by then fallen twilight asks you why
the poet on the cover looks like you.
What she whispers to the deity

in her daily evening prayer
from her lips' quiver
I try to hear

I try to understand
what she asks of her god
with folded hands

is it her own welfare she prays
begs from the deity
well being of her family
wealth and safety

or her prayer is not that small
she asks god for the good of all

I am not sure
but deep within feel
her prayer is pure

through years of asking
but never receiving
she has quit
praying for any specific thing

she prays as a need
as an inseparable thought
whether god heeds her
or not.
A friend is a safe shoulder
to rest your head on
an assurance a sweet reminder
you are not alone.

A friend is a hand to hold
on stormy seas a guide
a commitment writ in bold
to be ever on your side.

A friend is a treasure store
a precious find to keep
forever ready on your shore
with his sparkling ship.

Friendship is the greatest need
to lift the spirit high
and who for that would sow the seed
if not you and I.
Happy Friendship Day to all the poets of HP.
He stood on the grassland of Ledi Geraru.

The sky was a vast expanse of melancholic gray
and the crimson blue light made the night imminent.

Each twilight his feet felt the kiss of the dewy shrub
as he waited for the first star to come out
that in a hushed sweep descended as peace.

He would raise his finger to the sky
and upon the river of his eyes
the star broke into fragments of tears.

He was slowly dying
but a greater him was to tread the grassland.

His eyes weren't found.

Only his jaws still stuck with the beauty
were dug up from the stardust.
A fossil jaw plucked from the badlands of Ethiopia—points to East Africa as the birthplace of our evolutionary lineage.
The site where the jaw was found, called Ledi-Geraru, was a mix of grasslands and a few shrubs 2.8 million years ago.
This write draws inspiration from the above.
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