Beauteous clouds hang upon the sinking deep,
    Ineffably in coats with no stain upon ‘em seen.
Susurrus zephyrs evermore chime and sweep,
  Through leaves bedight in hues of golden green.

Susurrus leaves rhythmically sway and sway
     To the susurration of the wild blue yonder.
Fugacious clouds enrich every fading day
     In opalescent hues upon heaven’s shore.

Salubrious flowers waft ethereal scent upon air,
  A scent of Elysium on earth, a scent of loveliness.
Lugubrious seas call it a soothing balm so fair,
  And softly whisper comely olden tales of the seas.

Splendiferous olden golden hills roll evermore,
  Wanderin’ olden rills peregrinate here and there,
Whilst whisperin’ euphonious murmurs of yore;
  Such—such mellifluous music unto a naked ear.

In the emerald state, upon every river bank
   There groweth exquisite merry flowers of gold,
All flowers of novelty beauty—all wild and rank.
  In the emerald state—pulchritude is all to behold.


©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Evergreen State, August 16th 2020.

Star-crossed lovers died,
Upon a blade and poisoned,
At each other’s side.

Woeful was the bride,
At peace where two unseasoned
Star-crossed lovers died,

Taken by the tide
Who named two lovers treasoned,
At each other’s side.

Speak their names with pride,
For in that crypt where reasoned
Star-crossed lovers died,

Love does still reside,
In lovers lain imprisoned
At each other’s side.

Love dies not denied;
It dwells ‘twixt where garrisoned
Star-crossed lovers died,
At each other’s side.

Hark! Hark! Kenny Rogers,
A lark at heaven’s gate sings
Sail away like galloping rivers
And spread thy gentle wings

To wing from the ****** earth
Unto a realm of opalescent skies
In the mighty land of worth
Where seraphs croon lullabies

Mellifluously day and night,
Where flowers dost shine
Ineffably long and bright
All bedight in colors devine.

In lands of novelty sea shores,
Lands of many a whispering river
That dost serpentine forevermore
With heaven’s sweetest nectar.

In lands of halcyon glassy seas,
Seas as calm as a millpond
With banks of multicolored trees
Yet all veiled with many a diamond.

Lands enveloped by lustrous stars,
Stars painting words of desire
And heaven’s ineffable wonders
Upon chatoyant skies on fire.

Lands where love is woven by
A tapestry of truth not lies,
Lands where love isn't bought by
Sapphires, emeralds nor rubies.

Lands where avenues are all
Paved with green and gold
Come winter, spring, summer & fall,
Such pulchritude is all to behold.

In lands where the only air
There is to inhale is purest love,
In a kingdom all but so fair
Beside the king of heaven above.


Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Tacoma, Washington. 3/21/20.

Thou, thou, poor sheep of the Lord,
Now that thou art as still as a stone,
And unto none thou canst not say a word,
Unto friends of thine all but forlorn

As wilted marigold upon a sullen grave,
With eyes melting with saddest tears
Galloping down like as a lonely wave
Doth peregrinate from shores to shores,

May thee know wherever thee wander,
Thy ineffably mellifluous melodies
Unto our ears shalt always be a wonder,
Pleasantly mellifluous as of dawn songbirds

Till by celestial shores we'll meet again,
And there we'll shed a tear nevermore;
For there's no sorrow nor any kind of pain
But rivers of mirth for all to drink forevermore.


Kikodinho Edward Alexandros.
Tacoma, Washington. 3/21/20.

Ahem, the night’s so long,
But hey, can’t be so wrong
To sing quite a silly song:

If you look at such a thing
With thine eyes round as a ring,
Ain’t the very silliest king.

Now I know you wonder
A king I am, but if you ponder
Enough like Homer’s Pandar,

You’ll know I’m the King of rhyme
And King of meter time after time.
This you’ll learn from clime to clime

Though the night’s pretty long,
But hey, you ain’t so wrong
To listen to such a silly song

Despite quite a funny thing
In mine eyes round as a ring,
That you’ve heed unto this king

All this while, my good friend!
Makes thee quite dumb in the end.
I say, close thine eyes and go to bed.


Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Tacoma, Washington. 03/19/2020.

If thou dost know thou art as silly as I am not to sleep in the dead of night but busy weaving word after word, thought after thought, that’s for thee Lol.

Winds from the mountain sail in ‘cross the sea,
Tree tops are whistling a wild melody;
Time, the old fiddler, has struck up his bow
As Summer flees south with the waning Sun’s glow —

Lock up the windows and seal all the doors,
A red mist is rising on these hallowed shores;
Shelves full to bursting and no one let in,
A storm is a-looming about to begin —

Footprints still rest in the places we’ve been,
Faltering short of new pastures unseen;
Untrodden pathways lead yonder away,
Unto an horizon, unto a new day —

Mist hides the morrow that lingers in wait
To greet weary travellers who pass by its gate;
Night is the shadow that cloaks all in fear,
Dawn is the beacon to beckon light near —

Out from the mist, from the dark, shall arise
A halo of sunlight to brighten the skies;
Sunrise and sunset shall be bookends, no more,
For days long since borrowed, and days still in store.