The Bird is never still
Flying from one topic to the other
Her chatter loud and uncensored
Her friends twittering at her to be quieter
The Bird has many friends
But Birds always sleep alone
And cold
With their hollow bones

The Fox is the Bird's friend
The Fox is tricky
Weaving in and out of conversations
Gorgeous
And sleek
The Fox makes rabbits fall in love with her so she'll have plenty to eat
The Bird and the Fox are unconventional friends
Friends no one would think would click
But the Bird will chatter and chatter and the Fox will quietly sit
Listening to everything
Retaining information

The Chameleon is the Fox's and the Bird's mutual friend
When with the Fox they match their red
When with the Bird they match their blue
And so on
So no one really knows the Chameleon's true colors
Whoever you are
They'll match you
Blending in
A social camaflouge
That they think keeps them safe

And when together they are quite
A sight
Wandering loudly
Through the night
They are a strange group
And when together they're tight
Exchanging advice
Or judging each other

But never outright


You'll never catch the bird
But be careful if you do
If not gentle with your touch
Her bones will crack right in front of you

The Fox puts on a face
Bearing teeth and changing mates
But under all that glossy fur
She's scared that you won't want her

If you catch the Chameleon off guard
You might be surprised
What you see is never what you get
But if you look real hard
The chameleon will freeze and fall down to their knees
please, please, just like me

......

She talks

She talks, she talks

All listen, no one has an object

I sit far away and amaze

She talks, no one has an object

Why? I ask my self

I try to be near

I try to approach

When I reach

I find what I find?

I can't ever tell

She is very brilliant

Her smart is not smart

Like every that

Woman may talk

She talks and I look

What does she say?

What does she tell?

I forget everything

Except that face

And I still see her in front

Of my eyes and in the inner heart

Still in my ears ,she talks

Like fireflies in the dark
I see your tears with closed eyes
You’re the bird in my heart
Who never stops singing
Amongst the dagger ribs

Distance asks for its due
demanding patience in the stretch
between encounters that define
those who seek devotion’s time

a gap excluding passion’s bliss
is the barrier that intrudes
upon the lovers wanting more
then the moment will endure

while the embrace is delayed
adoration still remains
questing for fortuity
a chance to show affinity

the emotion is not dismayed
holding strong while congress waits
relations evoked by true love
wishing contact where there is none

removing lovers for a time
this is the bane of many miles
still true love will sustain
until two converge as one.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181031.

~for Henessy J. Beltre and all the new Observers of the Universe~*



“my goal is to develop a more personalized meaning of beauty, love, and self actualization through my writing.” Henessy J. Beltre


each word, chewed upon,
individually and collectively
as I drive from Roma to Firenze,
long drives in unfamiliar scapes, olive shaded greens,
umbrella trees, and thin thickets of the vineyards planted
in the years notated as B.C.

are life pauses, asking, admission to the clarifying blankness
that commands rifle shots of riflessione (reflection)

your words, goading foaling, are all our goals,
succinctly refined,  for doesn’t every and each poem
asks through our eyes what are the visions of
love and beauty that is the actuality we ceaseless seek

avanti signorina!

unleash the wild words that will make your mission
burst from the ancient to the revitalizing, knowing this,
that the universals you seek to dress yourself within,
to share here, to create, to *actualize,
are products of your truths

be unaffected by stale mores, conventions dictates,
spill truths, soiled and used, cherished and recycled in
new ways, so that each of one of us
blesses you with one word:

exactly!



31/10/18

on the autoroute to Firenze

read https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2793919/universe/

I don't think about it any more
I take out the trash
noting
Sticks caught in the crotch of a tree
The wind does what the wind does
breaks weaker branches down
does not care where
it leaves
them
on its invisible way

Days do what the days do
they don't count themselves
worthy as they go
to release
the afternoon
to evening—
an artless
emptying
to a low spot
where tears tend to pool
if I'd let them down

“You know,
in that low spot
out there...?”
Where it's hard to see
Where its hard to care?

They take heart
out
divide it by energy
for sadness—
I haven't got

Watched the clock go round
wipe out my little plans
with relentless hands

...and I never got dressed today

It’s a crisp October morning and it is perfect.
My son is nearby digging in the earth for bugs and searching for his new friend Bob the lizard.
I can hear my Boykin spaniel yelping and chasing squirrels in the woods. I am sweeping newly fallen leaves off my front porch and just enjoying all the sounds. The wind is slightly blowing and the sun is warming the dew on the grass. It is the kind of morning where everything seems wonderful even if for just this moment. I am going to fix me a cup of coffee and sit on the swing and enjoy it for just a moment more....❤️

Soft words that fall into the space, just outside delicious blood red lips
When you say my name, you will never feel how my lonely heart skips
Remember your spoken words, how my eyes were fixed solely on you?
Did you ever think to ask yourself , who it is you were really talking to?
I catch my breath after you stole it way, leaving my lungs so absent of air
I lay slain in your field of blue, hopelessly lost in your words somewhere
I tried so many times to tell you how I feel, my spoken words always fail
My words are just like a blind man, searching through volumes of braille
Your eyes saw right through me, and held me captive on through the night
I wonder if you ever knew, that it was a single moment of love at first sight

I stare
one hand works
one broken
I have only one heart
it does not work
broken by yesterdays
now I am blind
in one eye
the other
stares at my hands

one hand works
one broken

I sit in silence
staring at a pill bottle

It will be ok
you see
even if I do not
I have no lover
no one to behold
no one to caress

Only one hand
one eye
one life that flew away

A lark sings a song
that goes like this

One hand works
one broken