This tells me I'm running
Out of titles,
The air is coming
From the north and stirring the trees.
So now you know the weather.
And well the title tells the time,
So this is the end of this
Poem, and now sports.....

Till you can’t walk
Till you are sore,
Yet still smiling
from the thrilling experience,
Till you are sweating pleasure
from every pore.
Till your breath murmurs
my first name with every inhale
Till my voice is the only sound
your ears need to hear.

i would
rest my head on your breast
and listen
Enjoy the sweet tunes composed by
every noted word you harmonize

Tales of your life stories before they became entwined with mine
Narratives about your dreams
About who breaks your glassy heart
And what tickles your eye-ducts
into opening a flood of tears.

an inner world of wishes
she deserves beautiful things,
The Nubian Queen,
Sunflower Child.

~ New-Black-SoUl #NBS

I'm gonna show the boring , **-hum , roosters and biddies
how the "Other half " lives , tonight it's apple cinnamon hot tea with a tangerine .. I might totally go over the edge with a tablespoon of dark corn syrup in my bedtime oatmeal !

A Tawny Owl in peerless voice , resonating within lonely , hazy Moorland .. The very breath of Scotland whispers , drawn upon Highland reserves , her intrepid Moon tints a solitary Rise , painted by the hand of St. Gabriel , under the protection of Heavens dominion ..

Scribbling rhyme , eating pills ..
Tying phrase , fighting sleep and eating pills ..
Counting lines , looking outside , eating pills ..
Proof reading how I feel , switching off lights and eating pills .
Waking up in the morning , reviewing bills , still having to eat pills ..

A proud , dandy lad stepping up to the podium , directing his subjects at five in the morning ... Every feather flawless , each spur just so , singing
acapella for his fan club down below .. Come hither hens ! On your feet precious chicks ...Daylight is numbered , awake from your slumber ,
Turn the fleeting , final hour of Moonlight handy for the earth is your candy , fresh well water in our faunts , cracked corn in the pans , blackberries on the ground , tall green grass all around ..
Let the cattle , hogs and sheep moan and sloth .. We've chores to finish ,
hours to mark , grain waiting to fill our empty gullets and fence lines to explore and walk ..

Red light markers over darkened waters create eerie pause , a fisherman at piers end tugging on a rope tied to a metal basket , shining blue crab with bright searchlight , buoys chiming for shrimp boats that seek the coast . So where do seagulls lay their head when night closes in ?
Lightning far off into the distance , maybe an oil rigger is working through rough seas , a sailing Captain fights the swells from a ship flagged in the Philippines , a vessel containing precious woods from Norway is tossing and turning in vicious winds ? So where do the pelicans fly off to sleep when night settles in ?

A silent epilogue for afternoon showers , embraced in timid , crimson sunshine . Blessed Summer petrichor fuels nights of windsong , good nature and whippoorwill ballads ..

There are colors yet unknown in my finite view of Earth , artistic wonders undiscovered , to this day quite alone .. Geometric shapes where Sweetgum trees silhouette the majestic Dawn .. Enchantment with every turn go I , to study my religion by day , collect my thoughts and observations by night .. To interplay among life undiscovered  , to revel someday in its happenstance ... The weathered profiles of a million botanicals unknown or forgotten . An ocean whose riddles remain unsolved , seventy percent of our precious world where exploration has barely scratched the surface .. Dark , rainy afternoons reconfigured with burst of light , the surface of oceans ever mysterious , highlighted by the Moon on hazy nights .. I flew over Moccasin Creek to sample fresh water and take in mountain greenery ..Walked the treetops of the Oconee Forest to witness the floor of the woodlands as a squirrel , crow or eagle ..Slithered along the Georgia clay like a Black Racer , cautiously studied each image before me with the curiosity of a Red fox .. Enthralled with the Savannah Dancers of Tybee Island , precious gulls , blue ***** and brown pelicans .. Welcome every change of season , Dark pine thickets tell of death and renewal ...

                                                          II­
Jagged , blue grass approaches , green straw tops , quiet
cinnamon needle oceans connected by silver streak spider webbing ..
Warm winds divide earthen cover , lifeless termite ridden forefathers lay in testament to bitter destruction ... Our Noon star nourishes bold , sylvan seedlings , beneath her languishing February predicament however ... Grassy field roads lay locked in period of service , daylight path corrections , marble land buoy sentries within thistle , dandelion and Sawgrass .. Gold , knee high cover caresses , reaching skyward beside the field road , lying forgotten , left to the mercy of kudzu , marble and granite .. Scrags reclaim rusted encroachments , tin in battle with the tepid wail of afternoon wind as stick pines mimic the Appalachians , gently roll toward the awaiting lavender blue horizon ... As pasture returns to woodlands , blanketed in hues of brown with forest echoes , carry whispered voices into tomorrow ... Lively crows live to tell their wintry tale , resting among scuttled pulp wood entanglements , to be born again , covered in the pity of lingering broom sage ...                                                              ­                                                  

                                                        III    ­                                                                 ­Across the edge of twilight where soft lavender hues lay at
rest atop her riparian horizon .. Dandelion blooms pepper the
red clay embankments , lone bucks survey brown fields of harvested
corn ..Mourning doves cry for the end of day , wild hogs lay tracks at the rivers edge . Toms sing of their loneliness  , persimmons lay bitter along country lanes , the meat of Chestnut not harvested , the final years of tall , stately Pecans go shamefully unnoticed .. Barbed wire divisions etch Winter burned pasture , Morgans and Appaloosas graze the fertile , ambrosial green narrows .. Manmade pools dot the Crescent lady , cattle ditches appear along creeks and rivers holding Rock bass , Shell ******* , Yellowbellies and Bluegills ferociously hunting the waters surface , Alligator Snappers and Mudcats work the turbulent bottoms ... Hayfields , peach and muscadine arbors flourish , boiled peanuts and sorghum syrup , collards and sweet potatoes ...Blackberry , grape , watermelon and okra ..Water oaks have taken command of the front yard ,  moss and honeysuckle line fence rows , flowing patches of wild grass and snake berry , rocks from Cotton Indian Creeks line hand built flower beds and walkways .. Rhode Island Reds , Buff Orpington's and White Leghorns work these plantations . Sassafras and dewberry , wild plum and rabbit tobaccos . Gardenia , Crape Myrtle , Magnolia , Pine and Chestnut trees  flourish to this day .. The Old Bridge behind Millers Mill still visible , what stories this elder pass could tell before the confluence of the Indian Creeks .. Crayfish , Bream , Largemouth bass , Crappie , Yellow perch and Flathead catfish ! The tale of the Crescent lady lives forever and ever ..