A cup of tea
Sits alone on the table.
It speaks to me, consoles,
And tells me all sorts of fables.
I sip its nectar,
Amber and sweet;
Warms me from my head,
Down to my feet.
The thunder roars outside.
Cloudburst!
The heavens frigid deluge;
Sipping rays of sunshine
My warm refuge.
Eyes wander,
The sky’s still gray.
I close my eyes,
I shut off the day.

Bushels of apples
Picked from the orchard this fall
Ripe, crimson, and sweet

barn swallows take wing
cobalt streaks in the gray sky
over fields they fly

I'm lost in your eyes.
Shining beauty like gemstone.
Hearts entwined, always.

Evergreen stands
still at the hearth.
Roaring red fire,
life, love and mirth.

Laughter and joy.
Cider's sweet mash.
Dull fire's embers;
glowing orange ash.

We retreat to our beds,
nestled and warm,
and dream of the morning
when the Christ child was born.

Lights festooned,
on the bushes outside;
filter in through the window,
glimmer and shine.

We long for the hour
when we flock to the tree.
Peppermint, tinsel,
ribbons, and glee.

Cicadas singing
Crescendo in the dark wood
Summer's droning chorus

Lazy clouds drift by
White billows in azure sea
Pregnant with raindrops

fierce gust to calm breeze
susurrous howls of the wind
I hear nature's cry

It's when the stars lose their shine,
That I see the colors intertwine:
The pale gold of morning light,
Fused with the amethyst of the night;
Then the robin sings its song,
At the marriage of dusk and dawn.

Fireflies in a jar
A lantern to light my path
Keep bright the dark night

A wildflower bloomed
On the edge of a path.
One scarce of flora,
So I bent down to ask.

"How did you flourish
In soil so lorn?"
Her reply was brief,
But it carried no scorn.

"Oh yes, it's quite odd
To have sprouted here alone,"
Said the gypsy flower,
Amongst gravel and stone.

Golden autumn
greets us with a cool wind, crisp leaves,
browning foliage, and barren trees.
We set forth,
creating memories sweet.
Pillowcases of candy;
running noses,  and tired feet.
Venturing home,
as midnight draws near.
We gather under blankets
with flashlights and fear.
Family slumbers,
fast asleep.
A night of tricks,
and many treats.

Your eyes, full of stars
A sea of constellations
You are my heaven

Even when I unravel,
hope still hangs on by a
t
  h
      r
          e
              a
                   d

If I could, I would

I'd collect your worries
like water from a stream
let your rills of anguish
wash over me

If I could, I would

Your pain that festers
like a storm inside
I'd take it all for myself
let it be my demise

If I could, I would

You are beautiful
don't let my words run astray
just know you are my world
my Sun, my everything

I love you
not just three words
that float from my tongue
to your delicate ear
do not cast them aside
they are not mundane
nor spoken in vain
they reflect your perfection
your beauty, my world
bask in them
feel their radiance
like warm fire

white jasmine petals
like the finest silk so pure
nature's sweet perfume

Love's vine stems from the heart;
it is ivy creeping through iron gates.
Wanders free through stony soil,
rushing stream, and bank.
It can loiter in the garden,
and fall victim to the spring rain.
But do not despair, my dear,
for its passion is like a flame:
Forever burning in its tendrils,
its coiled roots and leaves;
survives environs menace,
summer's blaze, and winter's freeze.

Rills of sweat, glisten
Beading down our necks like rain
Bodies soaked in lust

Moments of peace are fleeting;
just as dew will vanish at dawn.
Smile and savor the seconds
'cause before you know it they're gone.

Fluttering monarch
Basks upon purple milkweed
Orange wings now idle

Oh moon up above
The night is your dominion
Waxing and waning

Oh, those mounds of gold that bestrew my yard
Are piles of crisp oak leaves I raked this fall.
Ere their deep hue of verdurous beauty
Belonged to the summertime, I recall.

Every beat of my heart
sings the same sweet refrain:
Your name

Brimming with passion
Lush valley of sweet nectar
I drink from your stream

When the light begins to fade,
I have you to guide me through the darkness;
your hand in mine,
never to be led astray

- Lane O.

oh moon, hanging high
glowing majestic, night sky
wax and wane, firefly

Endless bounty,
knows no yield;
in rotting garbage,
or fertile field.

Atop the hill,
daily bread is carved.
While down in the valley,
I wander and starve.

Taking shelter,
in the moors and heath.
I shiver and struggle,
to find comfort or sleep.

Dusk soon fades,
the sky jet-black and stark.
My bed of peat,
dew drops, and marsh.

Morning sun:
scorching and cruel.
I hope for a morsel,
some water or gruel.

I saunter weary,
eyes sunken and hollow.
The world is alive,
the birds chorus I follow.

Spared from the sun,
under a thicket or copse.
Sharp pangs of hunger
choke out all hope

Such a fortune given,
so ill a fate.
Forlorn and  wretched,
is forever my state

With strength from the Heavens,
I crawl to your door.
You greet this sad beggar,
with contempt and scorn.

I ask for salvation,
eyes hopeful and glazed.
But I am given no shelter,
nor provision, or grace.

Cast out in the rain,
sodden and cold.
My limbs are weary,
My mind in tumult.

Providence! provide,
Heed my desperate prayer!
Above the stars shine,
my refugee from despair.

I await my death,
If God's grace would bestow;
but I awaken again,
with hunger in tow.

Again I venture,
to your door for fare.
But another has answered,
and pushes back my hair.

Face caked with dirt,
streaked with hot tears,
they run down my cheeks
like raindrops so clear.

My shawl drenched,
my garments of grime.
I'm given bread and milk,
a warm fire and wine.

I am thankful to them, and my Lord,
to have a bed, dry shoes,
fresh clothing, and chores.

New days are ahead!
Such joy and ardor.
No longer do I rest,
in the heath or the moor.

Not all storms endow us rainbows,
Albeit the clouds depart,
But the sunshine will still assuage,
With fiery rays to a gelid heart.

Black rosary beads
Holy prayers uttered to God
Penance for my sins

Sea oats rustling
As salty gales drive ashore
Forever dancing

Sleepless nights when I was young,
fond times - I reminisce;
though many I cannot recall,
there is one I truly miss:

Midnight mass at the cathedral,
the echo of sung hymns;
growing restless in the pew,
as the candles all burned dim.

Still of the night - heavy silence,
white flake now falling  swift;
plumes of smoke from chimneys,
and in windows stood trees lit.

Waiting in suspense - so eager,
in my bed under the sheets;
hearing  the howl of a winter's gale
blustering against the eaves.

Old Saint Nick would soon arrive,
with his sleigh and sack of gifts;
bringing joy to all boys and girls,
and crossing names off His list.

But now I have aged and withered,
and so Christmas has lost its glow;
on its Eve I still remain awake,
and watch the falling snow.

Skin like porcelain
Ivory, milk and honey
Your kiss pacifies

Goldenrods and oak
Flecks of emerald and amber
Awake! vivid spring

a tea bag steeping
diffusing in porcelain
drink and be happy

My path ahead, troubled;
through the blankets of snow, I plod.
I find myself in the wood,
boughs shrouded in fog.

The mist like a fever,
weighing down my soul.
I come to the fork in the road,
where I dither and brood.

Awake, yellow sun!
Cast your rays of light.
Rid me from this veil,
my peril, and plight.

Sweet mornings song,
notes carried through the wind.
My path now clear,
no struggle within.

I had gone outdoors, hopeful,
For the grace of falling rain;
Though its bounty would bestow
On dry earth all the same.  

Anon, my heart's cheer withered,
As I strolled on through the wood;
Come to my surprise, the leaves
Bear more drops than they should.

Your love is my vice
Thirsting for your soft caress
Carnal addiction

water lilies float
atop the water, serene
blooming; pink and green

I will never grow tired of our love
we lie awake under the sheets
legs entangled
the softness of your feet
our late night prattle
smiles and laughter
the faint glow of the nightlight
the hum of the fan
your head finding comfort
in the crook of my arm
I brush my fingers through your hair
and kiss your cheek
we dream, we sleep

Words can strike like swords,
leaving wounds that time can't heal;
They scar the heart and soul,
more so than iron or steel.

Doting words soothe
Like the whisper of a brook.
With love, spoken,
My heart they took.