Either be it beauty, fame, wealth, or greed
or such as destiny or  luck , to wit,
what muse crawled into my brain
causes me to moan as such.
All is craftily insanity,
lame dreams, untalented
weaves my brain into this nest.
The best I have at present sent I send
unchaste, un pretend,
my poetry.

within Indian grass on a plain flat hidden from sight
to ordinary humans
protected by mist our sighs breathed
into air pure
under a permanent sky
blue and white we glowed with a sun never setting.
All lonely hearts
seek, this circle we have hidden deep,
in the feathered grasses, meadows
guarded by trust,
nature, owls at night,
us by love.

There is some such music that may be played
a strange lilting tone as they say,
that no matter my condition
nor present company I find myself in
shall move me to tears....
perhaps of joy or sadness or long forgotten despair.

It's overwhelming rush of memory and hope
rising and falling upon my tired, blood-stained heart,
as the immeasurable and ever flowing tides
shall perhaps one day carve of me,
the man I was born to be.

Come  unto my barren needs
     take these worn calloused hands
into your own, your softness manicured,
     kiss, and kiss again mine chapped
with those sweetness glossy pink lips,
     slow, or slower.
Place a glance unto my sorrow filled eyes
     my worry flush, with thy cheeks ****** blush.
Watch the woodlands dance and bow,
     as wind sings in the distance
into the heavens
      cries reaching to the universe
a symphony, my love.

I'd ask thy forgiveness,
but I know thy disbelief of blame.

Though thy terrors be great,
thy bounty is much the same.

Thy systems be wiser
than many can fathom,
and for their presence,
I thank thee.

We have loved you,
respected you,
revered you;
but, then
we also
***** you,
plundered you
and forsook you.

Though we inherit thy Eden,
we voracious inhabitants
squander and profligate thy lush resources
in the name of mere money-
in the name of ourselves;
yet, I dare to reckon
better is deserved by thee,
o Mother Earth.

I hope we can eventually become thy apt sentinels.
I have been honored to be in thy presence.
Thank you for thy selflessness.

I am ashamed on behalf of my kind,
but I know you understand that we're still young.
We'll come around one of these days,
or, if not, I know we'll inherit thy wrath, as well.

If such be the case:
so be it.
I wish it won't come to that,
but, if it does,
at least some of us will surely understand.

~

I read your poetry
and I am taken away
to a place where my childhood waits

Those sunny summer days
when life was easy,
and pressure was only a word taught in school

I feel weightless,
as if I can fly
and your words are my wings

You tug at my heart,
tempt my senses
and touch me in ways I have not felt before

I read your poetry
and it is as if
I am talking to a long lost friend

Catching up on good times,
crying tears with you
and sharing every smile

Walking long paths,
waving good morning to each sunrise
and good night when it sets

Dancing in moonbeams
and counting shadows,
which always add up to two

I read your poetry
and I am in awe
of your amazing talent

and I think maybe I should
just put down my pen, for yours
*is all the poetry I will ever need

In one-to-one with silence
there is an unknown language
which does the talking
otherwise drowned
in everyday languages
not the mind
but the soul does the talking
a vortex which pulls you in
towards the you, within
unknown for a long time
the one that lived, neglected
let silence prevail
as there is so much potential
to be in touch
with the world within
which needs devotion
a prayer, in silence
bring you back to yourself