~~~


a new month
dawns in subtle colors
sky stippled
slate grey in the vast deep
but the horizon
anouncing the glory of the sun
a pastel dream of
lilac ashes and peach lavender
the light barely touching
the bottoms of the clouds with
masterful brushstrokes

~~~

mesquite tree's
leaves and delicate twigs
a hunter green foreground
like a world of
pointulistic branching corals
against the air
dappled and breathing
like the side of a great stallion
grazing peaceful
but within moments ready
to canter into
a new day



(c) soulsurvivor
november 1, 2014

I walked entwined in nature
as if a was sewing around trees
My fingers they thread as I
Hold
Grasp
Touch
The cold bark upon each tree,
Aged, majestic they reach tall
As if trying to reach that which is
"Unattainable"
But still every  moment reaching up,
I see there yield of green now
Fallen from branches up high,
Colours like a carpet, natures painted scenery  
I clasp my fingers gently
Brown,
Red,
Yellow,
Different shapes are seen
Natures way of being part of
"Individuality"
A leaf like
A snow flake,
May look the same, but its the
Smaller changes you don't see,
Wild flowers grow
Weeds some are called but I see there
Beauty, petals grace the air
As autumn winds blow through,
I leave nature behind
Leaves and flowers I take with me
Leafs for a daughters scrap book.
Flowers for my wife to see,
A memory of my walk, with nature trees & me..

Deep within my soul, there's allot of flattered beats
that longing to hear your sound
Look at into my eyes...
My heart won't pin you down

Even the sky wants you to be with me on the sun
We blaze the flames to get burnt
Your love a drink...
drifting throughout the body like “current”

My love craving for the warmth of your sigh
Your moan gives an honor to moon
Look ov'r the wickedness of my shimmering night
The love ‘Red’ but the heart loves the color you wear...  ‘Maroon’.

~~~



koi
circle
endlessly
beneath the
silver surface
and blue glass
of a lilypad pond. their
eyes bulging gills gulping
the      tiny bubbles on      the
the water ****
   they dart under
  the pink lilies
   like orange
   ghosts or
pale    
wraiths.          
they go round      
and round in the
pond no   bigger than
a golden          thimble    
longing for.                 the sea