Violet to black roses;
Doors of wonder closes;
Pomegrenates in winter;
Weeping willows wither.

i dug this hole deep
my tears softening hard earth
proper wishing well

Beneath the space and stars, I lie,
    Under the dark and lonely night,
Enveloped in the thoughts of mine
     I dream of dreams to feel delight.

Among desires 've lost my sight,
     Within eternal fields of mind,
Losing the shadow fight inside,
     I think of thoughts that left behind.

Through whole my life I have survived,
     Along with lonely nights and pry,
Living my life like just arrived,
     I feel the feelings staying high.

In depth of sea and sky, I dive,
     Amidst the dream and lucid life,
Dimmed by the instinct to survive,
     I die of dying in own strife.

I live in a poets house.
Where ink is cement and words bricks.
Where visions are seen out my door.
And when window opens
wind blows gracefully
as gifts explode
to become sculptures of art.
Art that I anchor on velum yard,
as I invite people to visit my garden.

Late night written lines,
Reveal bold, brilliant insights,
Made trite by dawn's light.

One strok-e of paint can show a million words.
It can make something out of nothing.
It can tell the story of many.
It can create intimacy between two people.
It can create a sense of connection.
It can release the feeling of comfort.
It can make one angry.
Or sad.
Or happy.
One strok-e of one color at one time.
Can change the meaning of one's life.

I'm divorcing my demons
To engage in angelic flight
Your proposal of grace
Weds me to Light

© JL Smith