Seeds planted in dark
Seeking light but cannot find
Know not their own self.

The gulls sweep in, squawking
sky spiraling upon clear sun bright
morning air, perhaps disputing
my unintended trespass into
their natural domain.

The comical Puffins have returned,
doing their Charlie Chaplin waddle
across the surf rippled sand, eating
whatever comes to beak or hand.

The ocean's salty wet scents embrace
me like an old friend. Flipping off
my croc clogs I roll up my pant legs,
to feel the comforting sand and shallow
surf between my toes, to be one with
this wonderful day and our mother the
sea. Reverting to being a child again
for an hour or two, mostly alone on
this beach, say for the birds, waves
and sun upon my face.

Baby Gray Dove was searching for food and gave up.
Spread her wings and flew way up high
How I wished I could have joined her
It's damp and about to shower for hours
The Oldies about the Rain fill my head as I continue walking
There will be a rainbow at some point with our Father saying Hi from way up above
Another Rain song

C#rainbowchaser2024

understanding can come in a flash
a mind illumined by a shooting star-
the realisation you were oh so wrong
yet again munching on humble pie.

on the silent city street
when the bar closed
that's where I met her
she was crazy

and wanted to dance on rooftops,
at sunrise
she took me to the cemetery
pointed to the graves of children
the box turtle crawling
toward the 3 crosses

full moon

we climbed the water tower
her eyes dark as coal
looked inside of me
and she began unbuttoning her blouse,
" just tell me you love me,"
(and we howled with the wolves)

2 troubled spirits

she wanted to be held
"and tell me you love me,"

she wanted to be held

but not
the way I held her

she's in my dreams

waiting for me

and no matter how you play your cards
misfits and wanderers
are lost and never found.

~
Belonging to Eden,
the garden of
inescapable pleasure.

Prepare to fall again
for the pretty things.

The desire to preserve life
lies at the root.

The way of flowers
--let them beckon and bloom--
sincerely upright,
vessels for memories,
methods of communicating
with distant versions of yourself,
a conversation that could
drift into tears or laughter,
personal revelation
or total silence,
depending on the mood.

If only time and thought
could be as perfectly
arranged as flowers.
~

There wasn't supposed to be a clock shop there.

Deep inside the lane and away from the bustle
the door quietly opened to the world of time.

World of Time, yes, that was the name of the shop
though it resembled more a curio shop
with the man at the counter as antique
as the time long flown away.

I want a clock to gift to somebody,
said I, amid the chiming and ticking
that if listened to for long, I was sure
would lull even the alert into sleep.

Thanks for stepping in, said the man,
with a hint of smile passing across his face,
nobody cares for time anymore, it's banished,
but for the connoisseurs still enchanted by
the melodious rhyme of swinging pendulum,
a midnight music, half listened in dream.

There's the clock chiming hourly music,
the man pointed, big but worth having,
obviously a misfit in the shrinking space,
but I say, don't compress all into small,
like say, he smiled, love and heart.

He set the music on
and slowly everything melted
from before my eyes...

I was carried home from the pavement
and some days later I returned.

World of Time, an old man recollected,
was wound up long time back.

clouds of pink on the cherry sigh,
sweet, whispering flowers fall and fall,

they lie upon the mossy wall,
clouds falling from a pink-sea sky,


flowers of the wind, confetti, rice,
papery stream like a pressed dry rose,

blossom song, the tireless breezes blow,
bewitching bower of cherry-flower ice.


a stream of melancholy green,
dances through the shades of the trees

the pink blooms sweep the river's breeze,
dry on stones, cherry-petal scenes....

This world is moving fast.
One thousand miles per hour.
Quicker around the sun.
Faster around the galaxy,
And fastest into the universe.
No contraction. Just expansion.
We agree, it's infinite in time and space.
Is there a nucleus for BOOM?
Does time go in only one lateral direction?
Was there more than one BANG for the buck?
More than one universe?
Creation isn't an asterick,
Exploding in all directions,
Like the rays of a sun.
Time may have no beginning, no end.
But stories need a beginning, middle and end.
My story does.
The universe doesn't. No story.
Not without a start and an end.
Just a middle, with crises, conflicts and looming decisions.
This is the illusion.