Whisked away among the clouds,
as if hope had dissipated;
My heartfelt worries clearer now,
with frightful thoughts anticipated.

In streamlined streets of ashen gray,
the restless storms had rambled;
And tearful words dispersed among,
each whisper through the shambles.

Coaxed out of darkness with remorse,
were shadowy souls of silence;
With deep hunger for a siren's voice,
to resume in screaming defiance.

Hell on earth--a treacherous plague,
which can reach any one who breathes;
As the need for cure and comfort,
resides within a world that grieves.

Mourning the summer solstice as it screams by,
steaming like a freight train racing toward the sun;
Frantic, electric, a furious quest gathering speed,
following an unknown path to a lost memory.

Burning waters beneath the green shade of tall,
winsome trees,
Eternal springs of summer's love, despondent now,
with endless apathy.
Beauty--bound and gagged--captured, held tight
as a fist,
setting its table among tangled, twisted weeds,
awaiting the arrival of forgotten seasons--
Discovering true summer in the tender torture of
gentle souls.

Alongside country roads of brown-red clay,
where wildflowers shrivel, fade and die,
Teardrops stream then melt into Mother Earth,
foretelling the approaching frost, darker and deeper,
than a February night,
Before summer could grasp our hands, pulling us
backward, downward, spiraling into the boiling abyss.

And the freight train bears down, piercing the fog,
roaring forward into the misty horizon;
Heavy walls of moisture daring us to breathe,
finally relenting, a nightmare blown away in ashes.

Drops of glistening sweat dissipate
as knife-bladed breezes bring wintry storms,
white and barren, icy and harsh,
With the trains raging journey exposed--
transcending all emptiness, the hollow desire.

Suddenly, an epiphany amidst the dashed hopes
of mortals,
where mystical tales float within the mind's orbit--
Solemnizing the steady, stinging rain---waiting for an
eternity of sparkling stars--cascading, erupting, exploding
into pieces of dust and stone,
Justifying our existence beneath the heavens.

The separation of God and Man only an illusion,
as the train slows down through sacred hills,
Defying the cluttered search for truth,
now existing as the chosen instrument of change and
ultimate sacrifice--
And one shared moment of clarity among the ruins.

The naked world defines my sorrow,
and leaves me hungry for more;
Of cherished moments under the sun,
with salt-sea kisses from a distant shore.

While lapis light shoots from the sky,
my heartbreak trends toward stars;
Which hold my thoughts in shining array,
creating images that carry my scars.

Still wounded and faint I walk alone,
seeking solace from the nightly echoes;
Which color my sadness and regret,
leaving me cold as the winter's snow.

If this is the time when I fade away,
then perhaps it's only a dream;
A phantom notion which plagues my soul,
reaches its heights--finally peaceful and serene.

Behold, the resurgence of brilliant stars uniting,
as the Almighty relays His will unto the earth;
The faithful gather 'round in prayerful singing,
rejoicing freely from their spirits' holy berth.

Reaching out to share the massive glory,
of Heaven's spark released upon the ground;
Our minds are touched by saintly prophets' words,
when inspired by soulful melodies profound.

While our Savior is still walking with the angels,
and telling the tale familiar to them all;
His Father sends Him down to help the people,
to spread messages of love and heed His call.

And now we look to honor His Son's sacrifice,
as the world still spins yet suffers from delusions;
Which easily tempt our daily thoughts and visions,
until we find a sacred way through life's confusion.

Despite the haunting questions in my mind,
my words became a beacon in the dark;
I grabbed onto lines of favor and delight,
to capture all the lightning's eager spark.

I fought to scale the heights beyond the scope,
of imitating others whose words defined;
A limitless landscape depicting deep expression,
awakening thoughts which scattered over time.

Whenever I would write a lengthy stanza,
preposterous at times it may have seemed;
My heart would jolt inside me with a start,
to find I had created a worthwhile theme.

And when I found my voice had much to say,
far beyond the magical whirl of creativity;
Each script aligned in a calm and careful manner,
inspiring hope with cautious objectivity.

There she sits alone with a hefty growl,
lifting up her skirt with a screeching howl;
Coarse strands of hair streaming from her head,
she appears like a scarecrow crawling from the dead.

Always fearing life beyond her own dominion,
her voice was stern when shouting her opinion;
That raspy sound brought children to their knees,
this care-worn woman rarely aimed to please.

For a sad and solemn story caused her ruin,
left abandoned years ago by thoughtless kin;
Having lost her only son--a casualty of War,
retreating from the world was her only cure.

The destiny of those who've been affected,
by reckless chances taken through objections;
Have cost the souls of others waiting back home,
who'll only touch their loved ones--carried to their tombs.

There go the wild and eerie sounds of zephyrs,
translations stirred by birdsong in the air;
Listening closely for the eager signs of Spring,
where love and beauty take away our cares.

Crushing branches fall without their blossoms,
with cursed winds defying what we seek;
And blushing roses lose their winsome petals,
which float along a dark and dismal creek.

Winter's soul abandoned on frosty evergreens,
a crystalline mix of snowflakes drifting down;
Yet now its Muse reflects the complex corridor,
projecting mirrors of sunshine's brightening crown.

Our hearts combine their deep and wise conclusions,
that every single change shows Nature's way;
To cast its mystic aura throughout the Cosmos,
where sweet innocence and wonder rule the day.

The days of thunderous applause denied me,
without 'honorable mentions' placed beside me;
Rampant chaos reaped within my hungry soul,
urgently follows a route from sensibility's role.

In loathsome words defining what's ahead,
my beating heart revives its chance to shed;
The multitude of tears which cast a shadow,
which falls across my face in muted sorrow.

For when dawn arrives beyond the grassy hills,
awakening the callous world from winter's chills;
I crawl from my bed and watch in fascination,
beseeching heavenly claims for my rejuvenation.

The fame and fortune sought from worthless gestures,
can stumble through with weak and thoughtless answers;
And doubtful questions posed from privilege and pride,
will forego the righteous path to humility's side.

Our spirits will rise up and rejoice,
when inner voices cry out to be free;
Challenging the 'status quo' of lies,
longing to shine a light on what we see.

Putting words into action is not a game,
when calming raging hearts with humanity;
We seek to master change by good intentions,
as we claim our right to act on this insanity.

Flowing from the deepest well of kindness,
we power through the work God has arranged;
To send the force of evil to the hell fires,
and generate possibilities of love's refrains.

Despite our doubts we struggle forth with faith,
remembering how the world overcame such plights;
And holding out our hands to touch the infinite,
our spirits launch sheer strength from day to night.

Along the path of righteousness,
rising notions that are limitless;
Promote the lights of love and cheer,
rejecting minds that live in fear.

Inside a world that's mostly gray,
someone will come to show the way;
Into a place which comforts all,
where spirits answer worthy calls.

Among the shadows that reappear,
are those which conquer souls from fear;
And when the road seems quite insane,
a friendly shadow takes the reins.

My shadow falls across the land,
preparing me to take a stand;
To help the lowly victims of,
the evil which destroys all love.

For when the dreams of angels die,
a second shadow fills the sky;
And empty hearts will soon recover,
with vows to cherish one another.

February snowfall displays its beauty,
in frozen alabaster petals from the sky;
Falling delicately they paint an ornate picture,
which reflects its luminosity from on high.

The winter world spins gently as it weaves,
a glowing tapestry of gossamer angels' flight;
The glory of the heavens speaking volumes,
as the sweeping winds call out to their delight.

Suddenly the steely sky brightens overhead,
as the moon appears and shows its pearly face;
To give honor to the goddess known as Amethyst,
with the crystalline shine of royal purple's trace.

Any moment now deep slumber will arrive,
with the dreams of nightfall and its wintry grace;
Where God's angels warm the spirit in abundance,
and soothe all hearts in a memorable embrace.

Phantoms drawn from the waiting hills,
devoid of notions unfulfilled;
In silence breaks their worrisome thought,
which contaminates every sacred plot.

At ease the dance of dawn alights,
caressing strains of fortune's might;
And with the chill of subsequent fears,
sing softly then slowly disappear.

The mountains shed an early snow,
which captivates in the daylight's show;
Then morning and night become the same,
toward the inner caverns of the waiting game.

As if in a trance the hours slip by,
where no one rests and no one cries;
Forever grieved these phantoms try,
to escape their fate borne from the sky.

The halls are echoing old sweet songs,
cascading down like waterfalls;
In dreams and visions that went before,
from the glory days of ancient lore.

Eyes blinking away the melting tears,
while music touches our hopes and fears;
Where memories find a sacred place,
to scatter images no longer erased.

The past sheds light on many reasons,
and carries us all from season to season;
The psyche senses an awkward pause,
within the shell of mankind's walls.

No longer melting in faint disguise,
these moments lapse before our eyes;
As time reflects on what's been gleaned,
from the roller-coaster of life's true meaning.

Was I old enough to understand the reasons,
why God unfurled a myriad of seasons ?
An empty space--a relic--of years gone by,
let loose within my soul a youngster's sigh.

The shallowness that claimed my heart's corruption,
was old and torn like crumbled leaves' destruction;
For through the lens of youth I viewed the wasteland,
and carved the ravaged pathway to the heartland.

Stumbling and tumbling among the crisp evergreens,
searching for answers to questions now foreseen;
In images of light which floundered and faded,
while still holding onto flowers--ripped and jaded.

But then a rainstorm gathered with its power,
in a blast of wild winds with blinding showers;
My road ahead seemed doomed to be obscure,
as I wandered through the trees toward heaven's door.

And there I found the ultimate place of peace,
like a lantern in the darkened night's release;
Where trees of every shape and size grew tall,
and enchantment ruled the day for one and all.

Awakened in a channel of obscurity,
which overflows into a frightening wave;
Reminiscent of a bleeding soul's reunion,
with hungry eyes that glare beyond the grave.

These ghosts will rise from every flooded tunnel,
appearing gaunt and wholly drenched in misery's web;
That spirals 'round and 'round along the river,
into a foggy wasteland's muddy bed.

Through the night awaiting saintly missives,
to rescue all that's blessed from the ground;
Their wailing chants reach up into the cosmos,
voices shrieking in a cacophony of sound.

Somewhere in between a hollow memory,
survives among the mists of dawn's deception;
Another force reacts with ominous power,
against the Will of timely intervention

And soon the beleaguered spirits fill the night,
retracing all their steps which glow in darkness;
Then the final chapter yields a twilight ending,
which falls among the words of lives repressed.

In a dream-like state we follow the words,
and images projected forward;
Inside our hearts we shake and quake,
with fear of moving onward.

Holding hands our voices muted,
waiting for the gypsy chant;
Closing our eyes in the darkened room,
as candlelight hails against the rant.

From nothingness arose a silver harp,
and a statue of beauty and grace;
A view marred by smoky essences,
which pervaded this somber place.

The howling from bewitched spirits,
increased the pounding inside my chest;
But one small token left behind,
set my helpless fears to rest.

I walked away with confidence,
and held his rosary in my hands;
Promising my father I'd "keep the faith,"
that would lead me to the promised land.

The night was reflected in yesterdays,
of perilous haunting's sphere;
Which wandered into my current days,
through ominous waves of fear.

While shaking off my deep despair,
forsaking my soul's desire;
Looking forward sent me to the clouds,
erasing the present's ire.

The future seemed an awkward spot,
which never truly saw the past;
While silently watching worlds collide,
sending sparks from nature's blast.

So where now do I go from here ?
The darkest days are done;
I'll close my eyes and wander alone,
as my arms reach toward the sun.

But the captive heart freely understands,
its place within time's plight;
And rising from the ashes brings,
hope which leads me from the night.

Love hangs from the tree of happiness,
it often dangles and tangles its leaves;
Between the shadows of waning wonder,
calling out for someone to believe.

It floats from memory to memory,
scattering pictures throughout our minds;
Often it seems shaken and restless,
forging its visions from another time.

Scrambled missives falling from the sky,
reaching beyond the cool grassy hills;
Where the tree of love awaits its call,
disparaged--yet holding still.

But the sun arranges for brighter days,
which alight in joy and glory;
The saddest thing now flies away,
from the pain of an anguished story.

Then love nestles in the heart of town,
where the folks have seen the shine;
And share their gifts of friendship,
as love beckons to all mankind.

The streets covered with snow and sleds,
children no longer lying in cozy beds;
Sleep is a waste when the outdoors calls,
this new season brings merriment to all !

Spinning like tops while skating on ponds,
seeing ourselves mirrored in icy lawns;
Snow-forts built with love and care,
frost nips away in the clean crisp air.

Building a snowman up on the hill,
down feathers fight off the icy chill;
Sharing with friends many Christmas treats,
slipping and sliding to a jolly old beat !

Songs on high from the chirping birds,
cardinals calling out their sweetened words;
As an evergreen sits so majestic and tall,
a welcome wonderland of joy for one and all !

The world spins and twirls with incessant churning,
never falling--merely floating--across the horizon;
The magic cornerstone of our daily existence,
despite the pull from many parts unknown.

Once a small child flew up into the galaxy,
wandering with curiosity and inner trembling;
Stars ignited their own fire to warm her heart,
and comets scoured the sky while reassembling.

But then her cries were heard by heavenly angels,
to soothe the fears within the child's soul;
Scrambling onward to create the healing powers,
which sent words of light and love which was their goal.

Yet when the lonely child was hence recovered,
from the blackened night by the awesome Grace of God;
A sparkling zephyr propelled her through the whirlwind,
where she landed blessed and safe upon the ground.

Once I threw away the ancient key,
which had opened all the wounds;
Fighting hard and so desperately,
to forget past visions of my gloom.

But somehow reaching back in time,
despite such pain and sorrow;
My heart recalled some moments bright,
and tried to envision new tomorrows.

Locked in memory were the soulful aches,
of deep regret and profound confusion;
I had hoped I would receive some sign,
to help overcome my disillusion.

Yet bold ideas flew through my brain,
despite the captivity of my past sins;
And once more proved the gentle light,
would lead me back home again.

I'll often gaze off into the sunset,
thoughts meandering through the night;
The beauty of the world confounds me,
as the stars glow in my sight.

Examining the purpose of life's plans,
in my solitude I care to wonder;
If the world is simply gorgeous light,
not ever dark or dreary to ponder.

Framed in essences of silver and gold,
my days seem to float far away;
I speak softly now that I'm alone,
yet never pause to sleep or pray.

Clashing memories disrupt my soul,
still I'm satisfied to be alone;
Where my emptiness can be fulfilled,
in the heart of my own home.

The gallant birds sing such lovely tunes,
while resting under the sky and moon;
On autumn days we see them scour,
for bits of crumbs from hour to hour.

And golden are the days before us,
November brings a thankful chorus;
The harvest reaps its fruitful bounty,
of pears and pumpkins across the county.

Each year we find the gifts of autumn,
the falling of the leaves so solemn;
Brisk is the wind tossing them around,
building colorful bunches on the ground.

And in my mind I can hear the song,
of autumn's breezes all night long;
My heart is filled with love and light,
as the moon shines on to say goodnight.

Wrapped in bulky woolen sweaters,
we scampered across the length of the field,
where crisp leaves had begun to fall
from several stalwart trees--
Surrounding our beloved playground like
tall, spare reeds, bending slightly in the wind--
And with the dampened earth beneath our feet,
and the mist-filled air crackling with Fall's breath,
We gazed upward at an ashen-toned sky,
as an early moon carved a lighted path for us
to follow--
Our hands held together tightly, running quickly
with the eagerness of youth,
seeking warmth and comfort at the roaring hearth;
We exhaled, watching the frosty air envelope us--
before falling lovingly into mother's waiting arms.

The hallowed halls reflect a certain paradigm,
which tells the tale of reaching creatures' prime;
And casts a shadow on the future of the realm,
with no one left behind to grasp the helm.

Then intuition soon evolves with caustic voices,
that turn in countless ways to make their choices;
Forever lacking from the margins of inequity,
trying to fulfill empty dreams of our divinity.

Designed to chase away the cluttered nightmares,
with the rising and the falling of the breakers;
A seaside image flattens then floats away,
when keeping precious promises at bay.

Overblown egos rise to dispense their justice,
while writing laws that thoroughly disgust us;
No queen or king can shake the hearts of man,
and if they try all creatures will take a stand.

In miles of ancient depths beneath the hills,
we scurry past a starlight vision's beam;
So fierce and bold in undiscovered corners,
they still release a somber, sober gleam.

Running through the maze of discontent,
emotions rise along the lengthy journey;
As victims of the holy battle's charge,
we capture what we need from memories.

And with the stream of notions so described,
we fill our cups with waters rushing quickly;
Decisions made in sudden bursts of strength,
can only serve to change our lives distinctly.

Yet wearily we've arrived to shake the past,
ending all the fuss and awkward cravings;
We find our way along a pristine path,
believing even now that life's worth saving.

Precious time--so evasive and quick, passes by-
Hanging so heavily from a slate-gray sky;
Or will even glow on a warm Spring day,
as the weeks run together from Fall to May.

The hours of the day seem to disappear,
the clock ticks and the day moves on;
Brightening our moments, year to year--
memories recalling the smiles and tears.

Ahead--the unpredictable future days,
when we question our existence, expose
our fears--the wandering mind turns silent,
as we seek comfort from the One Who Knows.

Our Mother-Moon always answers our prayers,
through inspiring emotions, heartfelt signs;
While time relents an aging paradigm,
and wasting it all would surely be a crime.

Raucous laughter would permeate the air,
as we rode along in Papa's old jalopy;
Pretending we're in Cinderella's carriage,
wearing silken gowns and jewelry aplenty.

A 'pumpkin's fantasy' coach drove us away,
our makeup pressed against the autumn breeze;
And bouncing far along the darkened roadway,
our 'carriage' turned then coasted down with ease.

We happily arrived at the prom's destination,
with eager smiles we floated through the door;
Boys with drinks in hand watched as we giggled,
while they made their way across the tile floor.

The magic of the music brought us closer,
awakening me to rainbow colors all around;
As if in a dream we wound up in the moonlight,
sharing champagne beneath its shine upon the ground

Then somewhere in the night a stolen kiss,
with all my intimate passions softly glowing;
Beyond the former world of make believe,
a love for life in future days was growing.

As we drove into the hazy sunlight,
each tree sang a song of the South;
The Spanish Moss and sassafras,
rose vividly in front of each house.

Our footsteps hit upon cobblestones,
as we walked through the park that day;
Where various monuments to local gentry,
loomed near lilac bushes on display.

The River Walk was such a surprise,
where many locals sold their wares;
Food and souvenirs in abundance,
and the scent of hydrangeas in the air.

A treat for those of us from the North,
to observe life in this lovely town;
Where churches stand in high regard,
and romance lingers all around.

The warmth of September upon us,
we climbed onto the river boat QUEEN;
The view from the water was sumptuous,
as the light from the boat still beamed.

I'll never forget our quaint little room,
that faced the precious park below;
A chance to watch the people stroll,
wandering off in the evening glow.

Our deck was like a silent chapel,
imbued with wine and sunset sighs;
We embraced when we heard music,
from a man's guitar as he sauntered by.

This wondrous night became a memory,
when we reached for the moon so high;
Then drank a toast to dear Savannah,
as the stars glistened in the indigo sky.

The lips which I once kissed,
lying still and cold beneath the damp ground,
those which inflamed mine,
far beyond passion, sound and fury--
having lifted my soul from the muddle of
sheer emptiness--a breathing fire sharply
extinguished.

While lonely flowers lay upon the grave,
the tomb of our anguished goodbyes--
The swells of my heart like a misty rose,
its petals shedding icy tears,
in the twilight hours of frozen air--
turning solemn and bleak as they kiss
My beloved's cheek.

Engulfed within the swirling black of night,
I searched for answers to my horrid plight;
The hours seemed too long to be erased,
and minutes flew as shadows in the chase.

To rectify the madness of my torment,
I prayed for God to hear my soul's lament;
And turn it into something real and true,
which I could understand in common view.

I wondered if the haunting wraiths began,
to catch my heart alone in lurid plan;
And when the smoke enveloped me in waves,
the bleakness seemed just like an earthly grave.

While questioning if Heaven could arouse,
a complex mission toward my holy vows;
I looked and saw a light which rose above,
and felt the angels shower me with love.

With solemn eyes she took his hand,
and walked the length of the street;
Her pain suffused with inner conflict,
while her gentle heart continued to beat.

Awakened now to a frightening existence,
her palm sweaty in the stranger's hands;
A single tear fell down onto her cheek,
the moment he opened the black van.

This man held a badge to her youthful face,
then made her sign some confusing papers;
While carried away from her own community,
leaving behind children who will live in fear.

From her small window she saw her 'abuela',
whose careworn hands waved a frantic goodbye;
The life she'd known ruined and torn away,
and off to a place where her words won't apply.  

The suffering we've witnessed can only foretell,
a stark future that leads to a living hell !

I can see tiny flashes before my eyes,
why in the world do they follow me ?
Many times my mind has been shattered,
by all the ghosts who won't set me free.

The colors which should light my days,
dissipate among the wavering tides;
And sunshine never leaves its place,
to cast its rays of hope by my side.

As a child I was sent far from my town,
yet never knowing exactly why;
I can't help but think it's my own fault,
and for years I was passed on by.

Those tiny flashes of warning--like stars,
bring shelter through torrential showers;
As if heaven sent them just to touch,
my desperate nights--my darkest hours.

But looking at their twinkling light,
they now appear as honored friends;
And the bluest sky opens up its heart,
sending sweet angels to make amends.

The haunted hours become subdued,
as God's angels taught me to pray;
And tears of relief ran down my cheeks,
as I learned how to face another day

A bouquet of jonquils sits gently on a chair,
its colors muted as the lightly scented air;
No longer fresh and lovely as before,
when first arriving at the marble door.

A twist in timely plans had come undone,
a wounded soul flew outward toward the sun;
The wailing captured everyone's attention,
no doubt her heart could use an intervention.

Yet no one could even find the maiden fair,
this gesture had caught her totally unaware;
Her future just destroyed before the altar,
left friends and family startled in the foyer.

Night fell swiftly above the church's steeple,
and bells rang out to calm the worried people;
Hours later while she wiped her tears away,
an angel called her home amidst dismay.

The night had lingered on and as she slept,
the bunch of jonquils carried to her breast;
Became the sign she never could forget,
so jaded were the petals of love's regret.

Perched high above the massive plain,
the curious forces of sun's redemption;
Connect to earth by a golden thread,
reviving the world in holy reflection.

Thoughts are gathered around this scene,
where words will lighten their heavy load;
And children revere the saintly affection,
poured forth from heaven's humble abode.

As the thread of life continues to shine,
and proudly sings with lively intention;
So much like the strings of a violin,
it orchestrates triumphant intervention.

With miraculous wonders from gods on high,
bringing comfort and warmth for all the ages;
This golden thread continues its journey,
as inspired voices quell the inner rage.

When society spills its ugliness,
we're somehow all diminished;
It's like a theme that's gone astray,
with its purpose never finished.

Lately words have hurt us all,
from a man in political realm;
We have to listen closely now,
for someone true to take the helm.

No one in this world is perfect,
but deepest crimes of trust relate;
A sullied soul who cannot lead,
so to him we'll close the gate.

While under duress we'll finally know,
the strength our votes can harness;
This election is the chance to seal,
future hopes with heartfelt promise.

It billows like the clouds on the horizon,
an ancient missive rallying through the sky;
Content to find its way to earthen dwellers;
and touch the sacred soil before our eyes.

Often, I'm reminded of a childhood dream,
that cast a promise through the years ahead;
When leaves protected lands like holy feathers,
erasing fears now ripped apart in threads.

This very potent dream brought vast illusions,
of stars which carried purpose through the night;
Eloquence became the wondrous centerpiece,
adorned in fashion's rainbow at the site.

Still reminded of the moments when it rained,
while grabbing hold of lessons taunting me;
Yet somehow 'springs of summer' cast a light,
beyond the image of the emerald sea.

This vision foretold to me engaged my mind,
in captivating blooms from sunny meadows;
And if I ever wandered far from home,
this dream would always find me in the shadows.

The many twisted thoughts that linger,
behind the mask of happiness and joy;
Evolve into an overwhelming burden,
when clarity dissolves in cosmic ploy.

Brittle bones that ache in need of rest,
while empty hearts cry out within the sphere;
Of whirlwind notions still arousing chaos,
and mindful meanings seem to disappear.

This struggle for survival of the soul,
begins with turmoil rising from the core;
And hope falters in a wave of discontent,
until courage grasps the handle of the door.

Enduring faith can hold you in its arms,
and keeps the ghosts of wickedness at bay;
Then peace and comfort form a heavy shield,
which protects our wounded hearts from day to day.

When lives converge in common ground,
the spoken words barely make a sound;
While calling souls away from pain,
with soothing musical refrains.

The friendships borne of ravaged days,
succeed to find another way;
To heal the scars from fiery blasts,
while pulses beat toward heaven's path.

No longer wretched and torn apart,
hands reaching out and touching hearts;
Will rise above the raging horror,
touching one another with truth and honor.

These signs of love will soon reveal,
what casts upon the spinning wheel;
Around and around each life proceeds,
to mend in friendship's honored creed.

The angels' harps play a sacred tune,
while planets dance around the moon;
In subtle strains our spirits rise,
and leave us grateful and starry-eyed.

Recalling life as it once seemed,
this vision floated inside a dream;
In many days of endless chants,
the angels' harps cause us to dance.

When voices touch each other's hearts,
there's always a sign creating sparks;
And with that strong secure emotion,
then lives connect with pure devotion.

No longer chilled in fears of life,
all folks fly far away from strife;
The added wealth of kinship stands,
as children sing while holding hands.

Walking across the grassy fields,
while smoky skies are thus revealed;
Spirits grow solemn in the dark of night,
as sinking hearts unleash their plight.

Coming together in friendship's goal,
our voices chanting as one true soul;
We rise in prayer with wistful sighs,
to see if angels could hear our cries.

The stars align in mystic trance,
as we lift our eyes in mortal glance;
And soon the moonlit skies appear,
in sparks of love beyond our sphere.

How great the world in misty light !
the haze of evening's soulful sight;
And as we look on heaven above,
we're comforted by its infinite love.

Whenever darkened songs of life decry,
a worthless moment glaring in one's eye;
One tries to climb the ladder to success,
but leaves behind its trail to happiness.

A stairway to the heights can be explained,
as something raw and central to life's game;
Yet in the shadows lurking all around;
it tolerates deceit as honor bound.

As if all subjects stop and lay their claim,
across the lacy trellis torn and maimed;
Now captivated by the wretched horror,
betrayal lies along the endless corridors.

Upheaval is the tale no one will tell,
from negligence imposed by Satan's hell;
And following the road professed to prosper,
will only serve to sink us through the quagmire.

There's a giant lot filled with grassy roots,
and flowers dead and gone;
A lonesome tree stands withered,
with its limbs now meek not strong.

It's an eerie place around the bend,
where we used to run and play;
But now the sunlight never shines,
in this hollow world of gray.

I recall the folks who lived there,
for years ago we often came;
To climb upon the hearty tree,
looking out to far off lands.

The house was a museum piece,
a bit crumpled but still standing;
Until a blizzard tore the roof,
and it crashed upon the landing.

I never knew what happened then,
for these folks moved from the city;
And left this ancient 'house of cards',
to rot away without heartfelt pity.

And so the ghost-like yard still stands,
around the corner where we would wander;
My spirit still resides within the gates,
along with memories of days much kinder.

Out on the sea we've watched clouds gather,
slate-gray and ominous overhead;
The weather report said all would be well,
but we're shivering now with fear and dread.

The sails are whipping in the gusty winds,
tumultuous with rain like a hurricane;
And waves so high above our heads,
we struggle within to keep ourselves sane.

It's truly a nightmare for us 'amateurs',
who eagerly climbed aboard this ship;
With fools' arrogance and ***** pride,
yet now relenting--regretting this trip !

But the storm surrounding us today,
reminds us of Nature's pure audacity;
For in our souls we fervently pray,
that the storm will abate--setting us free.

That's the story of life in our world today,
a raging storm which feels out of control;
But with patience, time, and faithful thought,
perhaps--we won't be left out in the cold.

Left solitary and bereft among the sounds,
of distraught emotions from the grieving;
Sad goodbyes have been properly displayed,
with sullen and surreptitious smiles receding.

I know not where my mind has finally gone,
and if its crafty echoes breed contempt;
From heartless words expressed--so well-defined,
while emanating sympathy in fraudulent attempts.

Believing I could rescue my own thoughts,
from far-off memories that often live alone;
But still I sit and mourn my current loss,
with tears and recriminations clearly shown.

The onslaught of the gods return in haste,
or are they merely phantoms of my sorrow ?
Bequeathed a link to what the future brings,
allows my soul to sink--still waiting for tomorrow.

Bringing me back, those memories of old,
to a place of wonder and beauty;
Calling me, as if in a dream, of mythical qualities.

Yet it was indeed real, life at its fullest;
the pear tree in the side yard glistening
with yellow blooms of autumn;
And the sun's glowing rays beseeching us
to run outside and play.

Even in the rain, there was no more sacred ground;
nothing more precious than the touches and sounds
of family, friends, and Clancy--
the Irish dog adopted by our loving Italian family.

How I adored the smells of coffee and hot cocoa,
wafting through the air on Saturday;
Peppers and eggs, my father's favorite, and every cereal
one can imagine, filling the bowls with sweet milk
Arriving fresh and cold at our back door.

The clamoring of feet, singing out like heavenly choirs;
the hustle to ready ourselves for the football game,
sporting our colors of black and red,
Heartily singing our school song--

And bringing mom breakfast in bed,
a weekend treat that made her smile;
My brother's apple pancakes (don't ask !)
were carried on a tray with steaming coffee--
(it was the least we could do).

Summer...ah...opening the swimming pool,
our friends crowding 'round as it filled,
listening to the humming of the filter,
Getting ready for the next day's delight.

I could go on and on, the joy was immense,
and the years so treasured, though they moved along swiftly;
But in my mind's eye I can slow it all down,
like the beating of my heart, steady and sure--
Of how it was, and what it was, that came to be,
our family's home.

As gusts of air grow swiftly,
and the rain begins to fall;
There are lessons written on the wind,
to find love's everlasting call.

Heartache flies from wavering trees,
and settles down into the soil;
That builds the love of family,
with years of blood, sweat and toil.

Despite the racing clouds above,
as the lightning strikes our souls;
It's sheer wonder to find solace,
and grace that makes us whole.

And as the words fly desperately,
among this solemn scene;
They find a way to touch our hearts,
with a soft romantic gleam.

So if the storm is at your door,
don't run from its missives' mark;
To clean all the wounds of heartbreak,
and revive love's eternal spark.

A river of sorrow growls against the walls,
of alliances shattered in haste;
No more the combined resources,
no more the time to waste.

Pretending enemies are at the gate,
only serves to horribly ignite;
The words that display the devil's hate,
never knowing what's wrong or right.

Piecing lives together in waters' sanctity,
the sacred flow of our cherished dreams;
We need to touch one another's hearts,
devoid of reckless plots and schemes.

If the universe would grow from peace,
and not fill one another's space;
With horrid tales from mindless sources,
we can finally win this timeless race.

There in the corner lies a quilt,
of dazzling colors and ancient lore;
Through heritage we salute our flag,
from every mountain and every shore.

And this tribute symbolizes our faith,
in people who have lived before;
The honored works of pioneers,
have built castles that we adore.

Yet long before our ancestors came,
courageous folk with skin so dark;
Were huddled together on the plains,
protecting their land from shotgun's spark.

The fights between the White and Red,
spurred on the legacy of hateful minds;
Many years passed before our hearts,
reached out to the first Americans' sign.

And still it goes 'round and 'round,
with refugees suffering at our border;
No way to escape their turbulent lives,
they came to us for some law and order.

We shouldn't shut the doors on them,
compassion rules through our daily bread;
And so just as the Natives have claimed,
we still carry on with hearts of lead.

Rising through the sweat of ancestors' fears,
innate suffering leaves me bound;
Despite the black and white of day,
I wearily search for uncommon sounds.

Resting my head upon wisdom's watch
sensing calamity from hollow chants;
As voices within my heart rage on,
curiously whining in rebellious rants.

No longer expecting insanity's game,
(it had possessed me throughout the years;)
The mere notion of reaching back in time,
seals untold tales still rallying near.

And whether candles mark the night,
my faded hope for resurrection;
Bequeaths whatever sails far away,
to enhance the moment's rejection.

With blind ambition tumbling 'round,
in the stark wilderness of the seas;
I say good-bye with a solemn pledge,
while disappearing from the deep abyss.