love is not so logical
no no
it is not
otherwise you'd never
wish to touch it
a fire burning hot

with the only hope
of touching
for even a moment
the beauty
that lies in the light within

Ma Cherie © 2017

oh the overcasting
dreary weather
the sun just looks sooooo
grey
oh damb you my sweet sweet sunshine
why'd ya hafta go away?

oh the sky
looking suspicious
ominous is my
dark and sunless sky
now tenebrous an so dull
as I often wonder why
as I find a sweet moment
in the a lull,
an clouds above are full,
so then you know that I
I must anticipate the cry,
....oh sigh...

we -
just plodding along
the clouds now form
in a flowing heavy floor
I hear stomping godly feet
an then the slamming of a door
boy it sure looks now so moody
an it's hard to just ignore

oh I say baby
it is like a leaden sky load
a heavy mess of pain in dear heaps
raining here now
on my dear sweet sweet abode
that man how he weeps an he weeps
he waters my garden now too
everywhere his loving
just seeps and it seeps
as his joy and his pain
it just reaps and it reaps,

oh back through the earth
an then back to the sea
as he pines after her
yes his sweetest Daphne,
oh his wonderful love
oh where you might be?

an but to be the God
of all that
sweet poetry
prophecy
medicine and
Light?
I just don't know why he must cry
I guess it must be that **** night
because then he must wait again- ignite
looking for his lover Daphne
that she'll be in his sight
then making sweet love again
all will be alright
sigh

so as he burdens my deary sky
tho I shall not be depressed
I might hafta go an ask him why
is he is feelin so distressed
when to be the God of what I say everything
I'd say that man is blessed
but perhaps he don't remember
a memory repressed?

oh an it's a-comin dark again
in shadows falling quick
reluctantly he goes behind
mountains
but feeling low an thick
he needs so much to shine on
it's left him feeling sick

he needs your sweet waters deep,
to cry your nector
must be
he only wants to worship you lover
the way he is worshipped too,
you see,

he is a-cryin my sky
becuz my dear he's just
waitin
on your sweet sweet love again.

Ma Cherie @ 2017

In this tightly interwoven
tapestry of
           silks and cottons
softness upon stems
an intricately-*****
                     journey
manifesto of life
        I find myself in
patchwork landscapes
of ochre and
rust turning
           turquoise
earthern shades
of cumin and cardamom
cloves and coriander
piquant red of paprika
alighting the senses
My fingers reach out
to sift the powder
to crush
fragrant fronds
of fresh basil and oregano
upon the blueprint of tips
allow their scent
to permeate my skin
and infuse tissue
                of tongue and lips
and I seem to be
in this
           bustling marketplace
my blood afire like
dried ghost pepper
searing and brightening
all flavors
fenugreek and asafoetida
to soothe the ache
of emptiness
chervil and chive
to get juices flowing
I want to slit open
vanilla pods
get at the beans
revel in their essence
wear it all over me


In this realm of spice
and paradise
I am flying,
a magic carpet of dreams
unrolling before me
like an unfurled flag
of new existence
The sounds of hagglers,
fading in raw visons
of shiny apple colors
olives piled high
textures of smooth cherry
budded broccoli
of walnut wrinkles
aroma of guava

Music takes over
I am in a cloud of
oud and lute
syncopated tabla
bells and rumbling
taut skin drum beats
Or is that long low whir
simply my heart purring
to the cadence of
       freedom's call?

I only know
that in the whisk
of a second's split
I will savor the flight
and also the
                fall

I walk out to the garden
in the morning again
ahhh how I feel winter's bone

while yes it is August
an it's hotter an hell
but I hear that cold wind
just a-moan
an just a tinge of bittersweetness
in how fast time has flown
and why is it I
that must always now
roam?
an why is it my
leaf that's always windblown?

sigh
but I know
no use just to wonder
I must just embrace the unknown

and yes as my aging bones
they ache too
an I feel the pangs
of missing
the sunshine an warm,

as the winds are a-changin
an the coldness now hangs
those crystalized skies
to soon form

but sigh that's alright
for Autumn comes first
in beauty to see
here unrivaled

our winter is harsh
tho poetically so,
it's the way of my life
my survival

through perilous times
conditions too much
I have now have learned to be stoic

an my father was too
to rarely complain
an I thought my dad was heroic

he worked long and hard
conditions or not,
at least in of what I remember

an his favorite of times
well it was the fall
starting here early September,

the pies and the pumpkins
the laughter and leaves
in smells and in sights to delight
the colorous splendor
awaiting the drift
covering the mountains in white

so bring on the winds
and the beautiful leaves
as everything dead becomes new
in everything seen
and in seasons to pass,
as I am reminded of you

I say a most sincere
and grateful thank you for my life.

Ma Cherie © 2017

in worn out
dogmatic truths
to others and our "self"
- we lie
but wouldn't it be
much better still,
to see with each
an every loving "eye"?

Ma Cherie© 2017