Writing in my journal of heart I sing,
gathering wisdom inside breath.

When tempest storms rage I write,
trying to ground for understanding.
When sky reveals beauty I write,
grounding with majestic scenes that call.

As scribe my ink becomes road
feeling the passionate words lead on page.

As composer moments vanish inside timeless realm
where words become my friends.

And while siting quietly
scripting in my journal
dreams surface as words dance on vellum field

A field allowing heart to expand,
and peace to be mine.


StarBG © 2017

A feathered friend spoke to me,
meshing its melody with  wind.
It gave me reason to dance.
Reason to celebrate the moment
that unveiled a heart that sings in grace.
That unveils endless possibilities
with passing clouds and shinning sun.



StarBG © 2017

Inside a pool of words I swim,
connecting to thoughts that echo.
They flow inside wavelets
that dance gracefully.
They vibrate within heart
that beats in divine song.

Within vat of phases,
thoughts sometimes heavy,
spiral with memories like tornado.
Thoughts sometimes light,
become powerful as self awakes with wisdom.

Inside pool of creative jargon I drift,
experiencing force that guides pen to paper.
It vibrates to birth a poem into ones eyes.
It makes moment slow for
a beacon of light to bring peace.

Peace as a lighthouse of love shines
to lead an artists creative soul.



StarBG © 2017

Gentle tender night
Blows soft endearing kisses
Making daylight blush

the way life used to be
isn't what i miss,
it's each individual moment-
lapsing over and over one another
creating an inconceivable picture
of everything i love,
now lost

My true love and I
did meet
Down in the lavender garden
Long ago,
Oh, so long ago
When he told me to close my eyes
and listen to his lullaby.

My velvet dreams
were carried across the
melancholy air and finally found rest
in the same old lavender blue.
When he told me that only
in midsummer would the lavender bloom
just for me

My true love and I were deadly shades
in the night and caressed each other lovingly
Until my true love dropped off to sleep...

White orchid, my beautiful white orchid,
where have you innocently bloomed?

   ,, In the garden of dreams, but you picked
me up and gave me to a blue lady ,,

White orchid, my beautiful white orchid,
why are you now all yellow and drooped?

   **,, Because you forgot me when you saw
two white orchids only blooming in her eyes ,,

This muse of mine
Remains silent and invisible
And is no less intense for that
I still write to her
Tell her of my dreams and my pain
And she is part of both of these

This muse of mine
May be no more than a ghost
But she is still my only truth
The one that owns me
For all my ****** and damaged past
For all my pointless future

This muse of mine
May be unreal or gone
Yet still I hold on
And still there'll be no other
Because within my muse
Hopelessness and hope
Have me enthralled

                              By Phil Roberts