On a dull day...
With the sun hidden behind dark shrouds,
his light unable to find a way
through the rain-laden clouds,

As I lay on the bed,
staring out through my window,
Into bright alleys my memory led
my wearied gaze which that dreary picture does endow.

I was walking down the street,
on a pleasant Winter morning.
And quick did trod my feet,
For,for one special company was my heart yearning.

I came to the Fountain,
For me,a dear site.
A place I would dream of,time and again,
till my eyes can see no more the light.

As I came nearer to the place,
I descried my friend,waving at me
to come,with a smile on his face,
to where became friends we.

We talked and talked,
On and on and on,
even of the grass on which we walked.
The end of the dialogue was never anon.

The Fountain would find us there,
on a serene Summer even.
Having escaped from the sun's glare,
lying on the grass and gazing up at the heaven.

On a Rainy afternoon,
he would welcome us with an 'overflowing' joy.
He would leap and fall,gay as a goon,
And would drown us twain with this playful ploy.

We grew,
and with us grew our friendship.
The Time with his webs drew,
our hearts into brotherly companionship...

Then came a day of Spring.
And at the fountain were we yet again.
With the gurgling sound the glade did ring,
but numb were our souls with pain.

The time came for us to part,
to pursue each,his own dream.
We were afraid lest we be torn apart,
tossed by Life's fateful stream.

We vowed never to forget,one the other.
And carved our names on the heart of our weeping 'friend'.
With a heavy heart I embraced my brother
and we walked away,hoping our paths would again together blend...

A clap of thunder,
startled me into the present.
Hoping for another clap to rent the grief asunder,
got up and to the window I went.

I saw a downpour,which promised not soon to wane,
fall out of skies bleak.
Saw drops of water trickling down the window pane,
Felt the tears running down my cheek...

A beautiful Autumn day with a tranquil breeze,
found the Fountain,silent and lonesome now,
waiting for his friends without cease,
preserving the carvings in his heart with love...

Unknown to his friends,the second of the twain
is where one could never weep.
The friends do wait in vain,
for,blanketed is he,from mortal pain,by the golden flowers,warming him in his last sleep...

'Twas night.
The moon,full,in the skies,
with his soothing eyes,
cloaks shrouds of peace
sends dreams with ease.

On the shore below,
near the frothy flow,
listening to the ocean's lull,
stood a little white gull.

Seeing the waves fly high,
It wondered why
the orb with his charm
couldn't keep the sea calm?

It flew with this thought
to the elder it sought,
posed it's query,
not thinking if it was weary.

The elder upon reflection,chose
to answer the dear and rose.
Shook the slumber from it's feathers,
contemplating some rare heathers.

And it spoke thus:

Hearken!with all your ears,
for Iam wise with years.
Hearken to this lore
passed on of yore:

When the Earth was young,
with the trees new sprung,
When the skies were clear,
with the stars so near,

When our shore was new,
and we were but few,
When there was much laughter,
with not yet known slaughter,

The Moon,in all his splendour,
looking over yonder,
chanced to see the ocean in her beauty
and thought of her as a deity.

Spake the Moon:

"O!Daughter of Earth!
Fairest is thee
to me,the ruler of the night.
Of all the things mine eyes should see,
forever shalt thou be the beautiful of sight."

His praise making her shy,
the Princess peeked up at the sky.
Blue and grey,as their eyes met,
On her heart was cast a net.

Into her eyes he looked
and into her eyes he looked.
Unable to tear his gaze away,
spoke to her in this way:

"At thine feet
shall I lay the world.
Thou shalt hold the beat
of my heart till it goes cold.

To thee,
Love shall I give,
take thine hand in mine.
By thee shall I live,
Truly,Iam thine."

Seeing his love,before her,thus laid,
the Princess in her heart was swayed.
She rose to the heights with grace
and ran into his embrace.

Talking,they went hand in hand
wandering upto the farthest land.
In the woods their laughter rang.
The birds for their happiness,sang.

Word of their love,on the tide,
went far and wide.
Of it,the King being made known,
He summoned them to his throne.

Spake the Moon:

"O!High king in halls grand,
fairest is thine daughter of all I have seen.
With thy blessing shall I take her hand
and take her to be my queen"

Spake the Sea:

"O Father!Dearest of all!
Word I gave him never to part.
Betroth me to him in thine hall
and bless us with glad a heart."

Spake the Earth:

"Never shall I be glad at heart
for from thine love,shall woe betide.
Unless thine love shall part,
on land,shalt death stride.

For on thou all life depends.
With thee,peace shall you take
from me,unless thine love ends.
Loath am I to cause thine heart this ache."

Hearing this,

Sad was the Moon
to part with her so soon.
Sad was the Sea
to be apart from he.

Sad was the Earth
and all on his hearth,
to see their tears
for the coming empty years.

From that day
the Moon would never stay
at a place for long
for his will was not strong.

He moved hither
and he moved thither,
sometimes full,sometimes not,
with his own desire he fought.

When he moves near,
the Sea,to greet her dear,
to feel  his ray,
leaps up in splendid array.

Ending this story,his heart weeping,
the elder found the little one,in the breeze,sleeping.
Smiling,he kissed it's brow
and kept on looking at the Dance Of Love.

Comfort inside leads a train of thoughts
sphere of colored rays, distracting the growth
comfort in her eyes leaves me in my past
sunflower melts the ice, guitar pick in my hand
rotten tree is dust, golden yet unreal
luck beats in my heart, stolen, but it heals
guilt is on it's wings
ornaments made of snow
shiverin' seasons entwine for just one goal

I see her
lady in the flowers
I'll join her
in those fields
I know I'm not alone
I'll pick my stone
carry it home
till the woods eat my soul

isn't it weird how people attach beauty to certain objects
or certain things, or certain places

all I'm saying is
the sound of falling rain
doesn't knock the breath out of my chest
the way your fingernails do

For once, the tears aren't falling from my eyes
As I stand on this stage
the arm of the middle aged blond woman-
with a smile frozen on her lips
and tears frozen in her eyes, ready to fall at moments like this,
resting on my shoulders.
And with every word she says
I see another gurgle of raw, teary happiness bubble out of the short shaking woman
sitting in front of me
whose name, face and voice I know
but who I have barely talked to.
The applause is too much
it's all too much.
I take the check,
give a her a 30 second hug
and sit down next to my aunt.
She hugs me and the whole room smiles
the principal takes longer to stand, drying her face
but announces the next presenter just the same.

I waited for you and
I still am waiting.
The difference from then
To now is that
I have hope
In us.

Poetry Round (find your self within)

We sit together in spirit, if not in body,
You join me in the Poet's Nook,
A few frayed and weathered Adirondack chairs
Overlooking the Peconic Bay,
Where inspiration glazes over the water,
And we drown happily in a sea of words,
Commencing:

You say unto me, whitecaps, I reply,

"Solitary swimmers, poets, arms crooked over head, in the sea of us"

I say flooded with gratitude, and Stephanie replies,

"Thou art my carved destiny-and the river that permits my blood to flood...And all this noise shall fall into poetry; Which every day grows statelier and comelier.

You say to us Moonlight, and we laugh, delighted, for she has given us

"This love can be ours,
Under the iridescent moonlight
Embraced within one another,
To live for an eternity,
Languid and soft"

Someone calls out Bala,
And Vicarpio Gale favors us with his words,

"a poetic rain, in small print, fills the white sky page"

And we pray nightly, that come next morn, he will rain upon us once again

We pretend it is night and there are
Stars to Touch,  but this poet of pax corrects us and writes, t'is but,

"late afternoon sun slanting
behold, jaune compassion
alfalfa ocherous leans willowy in wind
distance of silence yearns on
afternoon shadows lie within majestic vales"

Who is it that calls out
Have Mercie  B.e  upon us,
for she reminds us of what we B.e tasked individually,

"Provoking ideas and intoxicating imagery overflow from within and yet somehow you can't see.  There are dreams that run wild inside of this heart and there is no way I'll let them be tamed"

Sunshineflowers every where,
But even more beautiful when she coaxes us to laugh
at ourselves
when writing of true love,

"Why don't i have bananas, said the monkey.
The tiger said, because you are my soulmate"

Did you C Holmes reminding us that

"when you're certain you've
painted the next Van Gogh
with the swirls and gusts
of blues so pure,
any mortal would
stop stare & lose track of time?"

Fyi, Fyi,

"Her callous persecution insinuates,
The elusive flaws of humanity and life,
It implicitly elucidates,
The sombre reality"

About certain Angels  was writ, that both in heaven and on earth, she was garbed, for

"She wore an air of mysticism
Her memory bore prophetic visions
From ancient egyptian
And judaic traditions
She knows every star system
And every night is a mission
Where she wishes and wishes
For help from the legends"

Emily  has met an unwanted friend, familiar to all of us,

"Cemented shoes
And silenced talk
It's even hard to describe
Writer's block"

Sara B.  from B'kara, that's in Malta, gives advice most sensible,

"Times they are a changing
make everybody feel blue
just turn up the music
and forget what you're supposed to do"

Victor  claims not to be a

"poet, a musician even less
but I may be kind of a beggar
when I beg of you
don't forget me
or let your music fade out
of my rainy days"

Dare I disagree? **** right I do!

Little RedWritingHood,  from my city hails, so wise, far beyond her years, reveals that,

"people try to
make me see reason
or their definition of it
but reason is relative
as is too much in this world"

Should I go on? Why not!

Something's are ForeverMarvelous,  like

"Hurt is fading
Fists are pumping
Bass is trembling
Some are hating-
But I keep dancing"

mybarefootdrives  me forward because

"every seed of thought
starts itself out like a whisper.
Until weight behind words
allows them to stand on their own merit"

Maria GH  could be an old friend, who

"draws me near,
it's slender form bleeding into
the background.
Slowly, kindly,
it extends a hand and
I take it
as to forever hold comfort
in mine"

Andy from Mombasa, your poetry

"conspires to purge me of my sense of reasoning
Leaving me bare to suffer the perils of an incongruous world"
And I am a better poet for it...

Brendan'  I've watched your words,

"Crack the veil of tired souls
cloaked in lonely sorrows,
broken by faithless wanderings,
and feel the strings course through your veins"

I am blindsided and Blastsided  when I read

"Onomatopoeia
I love words
for their meanings
their woven tapestries
but also
for their taste"
For I know exactly what you mean

I am exhausted. So many gems to decorate
My body, my soul. I must stop here,
So many of you have reached out, none of you overlooked.

Overwhelmed, let us sit together now
And celebrate the silence that comes after the
Gasp, the sigh, that the words have taken from
Our selves, from within.

Once again, in your debt.