The wind that dances with trees
drops Summer's snowflakes, golden leaves.
And on our heads it blows the breeze.
Softly whistles, turns, and flees.

The ground where sky and soil meet,
plush and green beneath our feet,
And when you sit, the softest seat,
It stretches long below the street.

The willow, tall, he bravely stands,
Ole Rue he's called across the land.
And if you climb, and take his hand,
You'll feel his face, as smooth as sand.

From your window in the mill
You'll see the willow on the hill.
The wind, the ground, all silent, still
Until you're back to feel their thrill.

Roam the country
Sweep the sea
Fly above us
Forever free.
Hold our pride
Keep us strong
Live your life
And do no wrong.
You're the symbol
You're grace
You're the model
We embrace
Take our hope
Take our glory
Bring the battle
Write the story
Cry your fury
Bite the beak
Smite them down
The mountain peak.
Don't stop fighting
Don't let go
Show no mercy
Strike a blow.
Be our savior
Guard us near
You're the eagle
So show no fear.

To watch from below,
                  life expanding in every direction.
  I walk down a path of stone and soil,                  
     placid in comparison to the trees around me.
          I sit upon a stump, the wood colored with                                        
            darkened stains like abstract art of the gods.
I star out at the picture,                    
                                                                ­  unbroken,

and at its base,                              so vast, many arms
                                a willow;
wrapped and woven around its trunk would not      
                  touch on either side.
    Beyond the old willow, far distance mountains      
dressed decidedly as lingering fog, lay cluttered in powdered blue peaks along the horizon.
           I stood up, and approached the old      
       drawbridge, the metal rusted red on blue  
   railings. I smiled up at this miracle, where the    
      hands of Man and Mother Nature clasp
             in an embrace of grace and beauty,
                    and passed beneath it.
It was then I came upon the cliff,
                                             which drew up in a boast and dropped in a dare.
The ferns, in their envy, stretched to reach as high    
      as the speckled rocks that towered against a      
                      painted, sunset sky.  
   I pressed my toes to the cut and shrapnel of the  
   cliff, and descended, a leap if faith. For it is said, 'When a man jumps from a cliff, he could fall...or he could fly.'

Two siblings walk, hand in hand,
Shoulder to shoulder,
their footsteps paving grass and stone
in wary gilding.
And when other footfalls trace their steps,
the feet will slip,
And the trail will have gone.

The siblings work in synchronization.
Unique independence,
Contrasting, and Dissimilar
both harmonizing in nature;
They tie knots in eyelashes,
Weave fine chain with obsidian,
and break nails with simple deeds.

I, with hands of hardened base,
and fingertips that stroke Saguaro spines-
Will reach for straw figures
with blank, witless features,
And cold tin men,
with ice coated *******-

And a sharp-edged shadow will bark at my heels.

Rest in peace, my darling.
                            Sometimes I feel that we should wait.
                            Just a second, hesitate.
                            One more moment, contemplate,
                            The inevitable that is destined to us.
Rest in peace, my darling.
                            I wish I hadn't, Pain, invite
                            Freely in a fiery thought
                            A life anew, a love, ignite
                            In that first new friend I sought.
Rest in peace, my darling.
                            Before we plead and seal our fate,
                            Let memory briefly resonate.
                            On others, lost at last, too late.
                            To deter our hearts from another's future.
Rest in peace, my darling.
                          But then, I think no new regret
                          Could wish your existence never in mine.
                          For though there is pain, newly beset,
                          I cherish the happiness since whence we met.
Rest in peace forever, my darling.

My eyes probe the mist where it clings to to mountains.
The mountains who stand tall and strong
                                      Who grow darker as they rise Shadows.
They're pitted against the sharp vibrant sky
                                                    That surrounds them, vast, blue, mysterious.
I linger over the glassy river surface  
That reflects the cotton clouds
             And the dark, haunting mountains
             And their huge blue groundskeeper
The river winds and winds,
                            A great thriving knot,
                                                          Untanglable.
That sinks and weaves
And swims
Level with the earth
Equal in grandness
                                                         Acts as home to all
                              All who breath air
All who drink and sleep.
Those who gaze up at towers of green
When the sun is high and summer abroad
They chatter and gather and hunt
They roll in beds of fuzzy moss
                      Growing, growing,
To give life to others
To leave when it's time
                                                        I reach, I stretch
                         My fingers strain
To go there
To escape
So close, so close

                       My hands hit the glass.
The **** jumps the frame.

We all hear of wishes
But there are two types out there.
Those which all wish for
And those that wish for similar reasons.

I wish I could fly for its freedom.
                                               I wish for wings to escape from here
                                                                                         and start over.

I’ve searched, I’ve lost, I cannot find,
My friend and constant companion.
Where he went, indecipherable to me,
I’ve lost him yet again.

So back I go to the world of ticking clocks,
Of passing time and children growing older.
To see if he is sill-bound still;
If he lingered when I left.

The window’s threshold does not halt me,
Or the fairy that ensues me.
Distracted- shut her in a drawer,
Find my comrade- Laying on the floor.

Shadow! I have found him now,
But why refuse to stick to me?
No facile falling into place,
No soap will stick his feet to mine.

I jump and squirm and shriek at him,
And dampness fills my eyes for him,
Until a sweet voice breaks the dawn,
Needle, kiss, and thread in hand.

She ties us close at tips of toes;
And Shadow fights for Shadow knows!
He, who long has gone astray,
Life of elusion left to boast!

I looked up at the soft blue sky, eyes wide with wonder.
Above me, a bird cries for a fallen child; I shiver at her sad song.
A pedestrian gave me a daring pat, it was obvious I didn’t belong.
The world surrounding was mysterious, all emotions were quite mild.
No depth were in these people, no soul; no light.
No life was in their eyes; no being contained the sense of sight.
I searched for one alike myself, but all their stares were blank. In my loneliness, I remained; and let out  a soulful cry.

Behind my eyes, colors flash
And you and I my sister dash
Across a field of stinging bees
We run beyond the frozen seas
With thoughts of sun and mossy roots
We sing  and laugh with phony coots
And by no rules, do we abide,
for in this world
we’re side by side.
And I without you, could not see
the sister you will always be
For you have been so good to me.

I stepped upon a dream
One day
My darling love and me.
It brought about
A kiss without
The weight of modesty.

Music wafted
Through the glass
And it's beauty beckoned me.
His voice rang high
To where I lie
Upon the balconey.

He sang with
Golden radiance
In the grass below,
A bird joined in,
Sang with her kin
Her breast as white as snow.

The song she sang
Was charming,
Full of subtle simplicity.
The love was there,
But none compare
To the song he sang for me.

The snap of sparks from cloth on skin
                         lifts
The hope that         from dark to dim.
The sound of rain-
                                 and groaning trees.
A storm's great bowels, a rumbling breeze.
The lilting scent of sweetened air,
Skin on skin, that's soft; that's fair
A sky that waves with colors afar,
A glow that blinks in a child's jar.
The whipping  rise of adrenaline rush,
                                                           ­          The peaceful repose of a library's hush.
The winter's bite; the wind's white claws,
The child shrieks, the crow, caws.
                                     on
The hair that stands                  at night.
                                            end
The awe that strikes the morning light.
    The two-faced smoke that ~swirls~
                                                                ­that chokes.
That clever doubt, that probes- that pokes.
The pitch that screams a piercing beat!
                              ~the air that soothes the ceaseless heat~
Cigar smoke, and creaking doors;
                                                          ­stealth that fails by squeaking floors.
A favored picture, in weary frame,
The roll of tongue on a lover's name.
The smell of coffee, fresh and
                                                     deep
The Forever Memories our minds will keep.

Mom-
Our home is a gray and white picture you fill
With colors that shine way too bright to stay still.
Paper and lead are just desolate lands,
Yet grand and amazing, like clay in your hands.
The tree is towering shadow at night.
Then you dash it, and flash it, and coat it with light.
The house is wasteland of all that is lost,
But you clear it right out, like the fog on defrost.
The food is a pile of mush in a ball,
Then you turn it to pie, with a touch of the fall.
When anger is raging, and storming with pain,
You meet it head on, and turn it to rain.
When sadness is settling deep in our eyes.
You see it, and show it, and ignore all the lies.
So if ever you feel that we don't really care,
Read this, and you'll see that the love is all there.

No angels marr my shoulder space
No horns nor wings to find
But yet there are two sides of me
That unkindly cohabit my mind.

Fighting, fighting, constant quarrel,
Both wrestling for command.
No time to take a quick breath in
For loss of reprimand.

A girl and a philosopher,
Not opposites, you see.
I'm in no condition for juxtaposition
Lest subjected to therapy.

The girl is cruel, with a capricious streak,
Unyielding, growling, beast.
Philosopher questions her every say,
Persistant in the least.

He  never thought he'd live this way
He thought he'd have a wife some day
Instead he's in this silent spin
Alone in just some strange man's skin
For endless days and endless nights
There's no one to turn out the lights
And kiss him with a sleepy sigh
To lay with as the night goes by
So now he trudges right through life
As meaningless as the silver knife
He put up to his throat and sliced
And thought about his wasted life.

Left again, I miss you so;
Sorry that you had to go.
A rolling stone, on back you'll come
Tenacious pain gone slack to numb.

I long for years too far ahead
When rose-colored glass has lost its red.
And love between us, strictly true
When time has let me to be with you.

Never broken, I wish we be.
And olden years do grant us see
I know our hearts, as strong as one,
Will bind us when this wait is done.

When Poe leaves Kingdom and hails the sea
And absence wins to ecstasy
Seraphs dwindle in their clouds
Never minding Annabelle Lee.

When Cummings follows floating bells
And someones and everyones reap their tells,
spring winter autumn summer
the snow of children swells and swells.

When Rosetti ventures in the day,
and golden hair shows not one grey.
Sisters wander, sisters stray
And can't keep Goblin fruit away.

When Frost forgets to watch the trail
And takes the worn path most preferred.
Keeps walking til his footsteps fail
The leaves are trodden, black, stale,
The road not taken, undisturbed.

When I wonder what poets say
When they turn their truths away
And venture into the unknown,
Do they leave well enough, alone?

Quiet
...resolve
The voices are the tiniest hum-
-clashing as only voices can...
They all lift;
And.
Are.
No.
More.

When every worldly sense is severed,
When not a muscle moves,
When our consciousness relents;
                     I wonder - Who Are You?
The time which slides our every moral
And we cannot be untrue,
We have no will to restrict our strength
                     So I wonder - Who Are You?
In the time when nothing holds us back,
Just before we come to;
Is there someone else so far within-
                     That I must wonder - Who Are You?

A hole lay, just the size of me,
in the base of a willow tree.
A rabbit hole, no hares to see,
Where hares and rabbits ought to be.

I slip within, the darkness thick,
The floor is hard, the walls are slick.
I'm cramped inside, my breaths are quick,
My teeth make lips too ripped to lick.

I'm drawn in deep, like moth to flame,
I'd never dreamed before I came,
Cautious; things don't stay same,
The giggles shudder in this game.

My company creeps and scurries near,
we fall and crawl in puzzled fear.
There's something else that lingers here.
The bugs and rats have stopped to leer.

Crying! Squeaking! Scurry back!
Stampedes of pests stream, strong and black,
Over, under, they trample a track.
Gone, they go, escape attack.

And when I brace to feel the bite,
I grasp at sudden strands of light,
The night has broken, dawn brings light.
The willow splits to weep, contrite.

I free myself, and give a whoop,
the trail within had made a loop!
And nevermore I dare to snoop,
To peek within the willow's stoop.

Steeping hills send water flowing,
Tinkling,
Down the street.
Snow whirls in shrinking circles,
Crying,
In the heat.
Icy branches sag with sadness,
Dripping,
In defeat.
Snowmen's smiles slip and slide,
Frowning,
Incomplete.

Boiling winds chase the cold,
Snapping,
With their teeth.
Flattened grass curls and coils,
Wincing,
Into heath.
Crystal icicles loose their grip,
Crumbling,
Underneath.
Cold, white gold sits warm and and alien,
Sweating,
Off the wreath.

Summer dares to show it's face,
Grinning,
In the light.
Winter goes to silent slumber,
Waking,
For the night.
Autumn's drenched in vasoline,
Slipping,
Out of sight.
Spring is patient, next in line,
Waiting,
To take flight.

In the Night, in the Day
When the Storm has left the rain
and my loving you is deep,
You will lay by my side
in a Room too light to hide
any monsters from waking our sleep.
And the sun, she will rise!
and banish high tides
'til the moon again walks her shores.
And when spring bluebirds sing
with me in morn' again,
Ne'er am I anything but yours.

I haven't caused a pain that isn't
Caused -itself- by me.
Small worries vest and fester here,
But never breathe the air.

Oh! But how they follow me,
Come once, and then again.
They'd never matter, as they're said,
Refrained, they are unfair.

Forgone once! Forgone twice!
Oh how they grow in sway,
The words, withstood- Be that, they should!
Are they too much to bear?