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Surrounded by natural forces that bring,
the sensitive, lonely stars to sing;
Erasing all the boundaries of shame,
promoting cosmic energy's hefty gain.

In universal power's reeling stance,
the shadows of the moon in vibrant dance;
Permitting the many galaxies to wander,
in ruminating voices' endless wonder.

Beyond the expanse of purple skies,
are mysteries and miracles that gently lie;
Above random dreams of mere desire,
which penetrate clouds in lightning's fire.

A clear cosmic moment can unveil,
a pathway to the skyline we assail;
And arriving at the steps of heaven's grace,
those singing stars will glow in space.
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.
Pain and hurt beyond the scale,
hearts that linger cold and bare;
Tendencies to grasp the chance,
to seal our fate without a glance.

We can't revive the soul's true will,
by wandering off among the chill;
Which clears emotions from the shelf,
in frozen thoughts of nature's wealth.

When we can't see what lies ahead,
still humbled by our daily bread;
We find a place where fiery stands,
can take the horror from our hands.

God bless the sad and lonely child,
whose face reflects the meek and mild;
When glorious spirits break the ties,
those afflicted fade away and die.
Courageous battles lost and won,
soldiers marching toward the sun;
Jagged rocks lay in their wake,
sandcastles blown beyond the gate.

Tears of joy and tears of pain,
warlike monsters come to reign;
****** trails from naked skin,
campfires burning away the sin.

Crushed by fools who didn't think,
the warriors' place was on the brink;
Of sheer disaster growing wild,
for every woman, man and child.

And now it's just a wayward cause,
too many lives destroyed and lost;
Please let the children's safety gain,
a place amidst the cleansing rain.
The stellar light illuminates the galaxy,
in sparkling flashes of silver and gold;
Like a child's painting awash in splattered hues,
with the angel-moon as guardian bright and bold.

An eclectic design by a superior soul,
inescapably translucent and chaste;
Its composition surpasses all boundaries,
a breathtaking canvas sketched by providence.

While here we view from our temporal plane,
this dance of saints at divine elevation;
Enthralled by the image we're witnessing,
as it defies our worldly imagination.

All around us earthly miracles lie,
within nature's triumphant show;
Yet untouched beauty magnified above,
reaffirms what we already know !
His eyes were moist after many tears,
and his shallow breathing gave me a start;
This lonely sir who had nothing left,
but the dull dreary beat of a broken heart.

Embracing him now I could feel the chill,
his body so lean and limp with despair;
The grief unspoken was worse than his tears,
and the night lingered on forever.

We sat on the bench which he called 'home',
this vulnerable man of little means;
I found him after the storm had passed,
lying alone with his faded dreams.

I took his hand so gently then,
and wiped his face with my scarf;
I knew not his name but still I cared,
and couldn't leave him alone in the dark.

As we walked through the night side by side,
he spoke of his world gone astray;
A sweet lady once loved him with all her soul,
and had promised always to stay.

But when her spirit left this temporal plane,
going back to the Lord who'd created;
Such a beautiful spouse he cherished still,
suddenly his choking sobs abated.

We strolled to the church on the River Road,
to offer heartfelt prayers of peace;
As he paused with grace and gratitude,
an angelic smile crossed his face.
How many lonely people who've suffered in life have no one with which to share their pain ?? Too many !
Come to where heather-strewn meadows lie,
and valleys deep with lake-water sigh--
Villages filled with bonny lads and lasses,
where church bells ring out to soothe the masses.

Climbing over steep hills of mossy green,
watching a rugged horseman gather his team--
Winding down earthen paths of beauty foreseen,
where crisp rains fall softly--swift and clean.

Stone cottages built for the sturdy life,
flower-boxes under windows settling strife--
Of careworn faces in the kitchens and fields,
who bring crops of fruit which generously yield.

It's just a small sample of what I know,
about Scotland, its castles, and legends of old--
One day I'll be sailing across the sea,
where ancestors' spirits run wild and free !
My husband is of Scottish descent, as is one of my favorite authors,
A. J. Cronin, who wrote so lovingly about his homeland. A brief tribute, nonetheless, sincere !
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.
Look to the sky where blue birds fly,
it's such a sight to behold;
On a summer's night they still take flight,
and wander far to lands of old.

The screeching owl sits in his tree,
awaiting his mate for life;
Neither worry about food or famine,
nor do they care for strife.

Each touch of nature holds secrets,
of how they view the world;
And what they say to one another,
about the troubles that unfurl.

We can never know that holy spot,
which reveals the peasant or king;
It's just the way our minds evolve,
from winter to the birth of spring.

Each vision sparks a spirit's tale,
with words that we should know;
And heaven's blessings sending hope,
to every friend and every foe.
Sitting alone in a nearby church,
pondering the life around me;
Wondering why we all seem lost,
in this truly complex society.

Surely I'm not the only one,
who questions the role of man;
Determining how to make amends,
and love one another the best we can.

Lighted candles glow on the altar,
as white roses lay at Mary's feet;
The mother of Christ whose son sacrificed,
His earthly life without defeat.

This lovely place I often visit,
where peace and calm take my hand;
Inspiring visions of a world that's whole,
as we interpret our Lord's own plan.

One moment of grace is all we need,
to give of our hearts each day;
This humble gesture can only prove,
our blessed mission is here to stay.
The hallway echoed sounds of lonesome tears,
while heavy rain pounded the roof;
A mysterious voice--soft and solemn--spoke,
through the wide open windows of truth.

Among the hushed sense of breathless fear,
an apparition whirled into view;
Unsettled yet somehow peaceful,.
its presence prompted a hopeful clue.

A misty haze gathered 'round the wraith,
its voice became halting and slow;
The crying then ceased as did the rain,
leaving a ghost with nowhere to go.

Its earthly mission having been resolved,
a stairway appeared straight ahead;
Floating down steps to the mirrored wall,
reflecting a vision so genuinely sad.

Suddenly those sounds of anguished tears,
could be heard again from the hall;
Our ghost was perplexed about this event,
for which it had previously answered the call.

With its supernatural power and strength,
and a wave of gossamer charm;
The tears were stilled and the house grew light,
no longer a cause for alarm.

This tale is one of quaint mystery,
of a world filled with hurt and sorrow;
But our magical friend put up a fight;
then vanished into the new fallen snow.
I wrote this a long time ago when first attempting to create worthy visions, to make myself comfortable with the art of writing poetry. It's kind of bland, but one has to start somewhere ! Enjoy (I hope).   Frances
While mired in a world of fantasy elite,
reacting to the sound of running feet;
Bewitched by clowns whose faces white,
become an awkward refuge from the night.

I've traveled along this crowded path,
where sensibility is gobbled up by wrath;
By echoing words which others claim,
to preserve each sound of harsh refrain.

How comical to see the road diverge,
where laughs will follow a lonely dirge;
Left behind is the stigma of waging wars,
and nothing ends 'till we know the score.

Each colorless emotion soon gravitates,
with an emptiness no one can erase;
While fantasies evolve toward dissolution,
each beating heart finds its own solution.
Recalling how the world evolved,
in strains of aging melodies;
Resigned once more to waters' edge,
aligned with ancient harmonies.

In books are answers fully formed,
but life never seems the same;
As what's described in honored texts,
with words that shelter shame.

I suppose we tried our very best,
to make right the awful wrongs;
And reach beyond the sinful ways,
while meandering through the fog.

And forcing us to readily accept,
our lack of conscience in the past;
Change will revive the newest plan,
when common ground arrives at last.

And with such change the music thrives,
through frothy ocean waves;
Inspiring love from spirits' sounds,
reflecting all that we have saved.
History tends to repeat itself, and society must learn from its mistakes !
Monday mornings bring a new start,
to focus on the most important things;
Looking toward a spirit of renewal,
seeing the path before us begin.

It's in the light of one's own heart,
the love flowing within the soul;
That reaches out to those who need,
to share their trials and their goals.

Hearts beat with a single promise,
one that will show the proper way;
To treat one another with respect,
trying to learn the lessons at play.

Humanity is such a stunning force,
the gift of tomorrows surely resides;
In a world which we can seek to create,
despite temptations to run and hide.
In morning's light a souls awakens,
with its senses full and keen;
Yet often fearful themes arise,
projecting doubts upon the scene.

As veils of shadows soon appear,
with dark and furious might;
Perplexing thoughts run wild and free,
like phantoms of the night.

Within the heart one can detect,
the torment which assails;
Despite arrival of the dawn,
and the wonders that prevail.

Then suddenly a gust of wind,
erupts in raging force;
And through the room an icy blast,
eases worrisome discourse.

With an eerie calm that follows,
one finds a peaceful claim;
Laid out by angels from above,
whose work was not in vain.

The grace of these holy messengers,
and true faith that still abides;
We can conquer troubles of the heart,
with the Good Lord at our side.
Walking along the silent road,
thinking of where I've been;
Taking the time to set to rhyme,
all the music flowing within.

Questions have always haunted me,
the answers never seemed to come;
But in the melodies of the night,
I hear the beating of a drum.

Or is it just my lonely heart,
that thumps inside my chest ?
And when the darkness rises full,
will life's purpose come to rest ?

Yet in the moonlit skies above,
my quest seems small and meek;
For soon the rains of autumn fall,
laying kisses upon my cheeks.
Breezes from the sea-tides relay,
songs of wistful longing near the bay;
Harsh winds shape each mellow mood,
landing at the shore where lovers stood.

Against a backdrop of turquoise skies,
the lovers kiss and share sad goodbyes;
Still recalling how whispers in the night,
enhanced each precious moment of delight.

And on the beach where romance grew,
entwined in hearts that always knew;
Forever was a distant thought to bear,
within their brief and passionate affair.

But watching the sun set in the West,
the cool air blew gently as if blessed;
By answers found from the mysteries,
of hopeful visions carried 'cross the sea.
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.
for my sister, Marie Antonia, a daughter of February !
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.
For the Lenten Season
It hardly seems a day has passed,
when berries ripened on the vine;
The sunshine came in mystic flair,
while we poured out the finest wine.

During our celebration we sang,
of the past and present joys;
Although our feast was jubilant,
today it seemed more like noise.

Neighbors and friends toasted the vines,
which put forth the sweetest grapes;
Then the sky turned dark and stormy,
with a cloudburst in our wake.

Heads pounding from the thunder sent,
to arouse our deep suspicions;
Of phantoms scouring our timely event,
bringing mystery and mass confusion.

My body shook with jolts of lightning,
my face feverish from the heat;
The wine was captured by the wraiths,
which had envied this glorious meeting.

As children we often read fairy tales,
those lovely stories to ease our minds;
But now the days are like the mist,
which still cover the purple vines.
A party disrupted by a storm can be loathsome, esp.when the 'prize' is stolen by wicked ghosts !
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.
This is based on true events. People no longer 'preserve' when something's destroyed. Our streets need much more 'nurturing' to salvage anything of value, for history, and for pride's sake !
The cherry trees dance while blossoms fall,
as if heavenly angels have come to call;
And willing winds fly through dogwood trees,
their leaves dotting landscapes from the breeze.

All this occurring in a dream-filled land,
of poets and prophets in glory's stand;
And gardens overflowing with daffodils,
waving yellow flags from giant hills.

The glancing birds fly off to greet,
in sunbursts' skies of colorful treat;
And rainbows curve their way to gold,
a cherished gift for both young and old.

Delicate as the blossoms may be,
their worth is greater than that of the sea;
While continuing to shed fragrant melodies,
and reviving sweet springtime's reverie.
We sat on the porch watching stars,
the night was supple and warm;
Into the sky we sent our dreams,
being mesmerized by its charms.

Next door a record played aloud,
a song we'd never known;
While holding hands we hummed along,
and the music became our own.

A blissful evening of deepest love,
began with just one kiss;
It seemed our dreams had come alive,
with heartfelt joy we dare not miss.

And as the notes floated through the air,
we exchanged a solemn vow;
To dance through life as husband and wife,
while remembering the 'here and now'.
Once in awhile you sense a mystery,
from all that swirls within the night;
It carries your heart to an open door,
where you can discover a softer light.

This shine will greet your heavy heart,
with shades of golden warmth;
It covers you with twinkling stars,
and elevates your ebbing worth.

This journey brings a certain peace,
which quietly lives inside your soul;
The sparkling heavens then illuminate,
the truest path to your lifelong goal.

It seems the darkness of each night,
inspires that yearning feeling;
A loss of control so frightening,
it sends our emotions reeling.

But if you walk beyond that sunny door,
and bask in its wealth of honor;
Your life will improve with every step,
as dawn arrives in glorious wonder !
The eerie and soulful night can reveal a starlight's wonder,
if you open up that golden door and see what's waiting yonder !
The gripping storm relishes its moments,
of creating shadows across our land;
They're wide and high with darkness,
and never let go of the journey planned.

We feel them in the weary night,
as the storm gathers them together;
A harrowing sight looming over us,
as we pray for a break in the weather.

Will we be gobbled up by phantoms,
wandering through our nightly pose ?
Or will we escape the nameless horror,
and settle in for a calming repose ?

Cry for angels who'll tell the tale,
of whirling visions that spread their wings;
Apparitions are cursed to dull the pain,
which relieves the shadows' sting.

As they soon fall in the faded night,
and the raging storm relents;
A faithful choir of heavenly hosts,
will rise up as the shadows repent.
Reading between the lines of love,
I recognized this tale of woe;
It sizzled with a panicky voice,
and growled with anger rising slow.

The parchment pages rustled handily,
my fingers framed each word;
Perspiring now my hands were soaked,
in images which propelled the sword.

But no tears arose from mockery or shame,
while reading the familiar flow;
Of my gallant efforts to show the world,
there was more to my work than show.

Yet somehow in the gruesome night,
a thief had coveted my manuscript;
As I stood aghast in the bookstore,
each stolen page I hastily began to rip.

Can anyone else ever possibly know,
how very startling it is to see;
A literary fraud which breaks apart,
the inspiration for a writer's purity.
Growing in the side yard of our old house,
were mint leaves basking in the summer sun--
Sitting in the kitchen with windows opened wide,
the ruffled curtains fluttering in the warm breeze--
I could taste the scented air as I drank my lemonade,
from grandma's crystal pitcher with floral etchings.

A porcelain cookie jar shaped like a happy homemaker,
sat quaintly in the corner of our green kitchen counter--
The cotton tablecloth swirled with bright colored birds,
partially shaded by the lowering of the evening sun--
Kneeling at the window I saw a bounty of honeysuckles,
which added to the sweetness of summer's breath.

Mom would dish out bowls of butter pecan ice cream,
a promise she made if we finished our supper--
And often we'd play Scrabble long into the night,
(she was the brightest of us all, a winner in every way)--
Then we'd go outside by the pool and watch lightning bugs,
as they flitted around the giant maple tree in delight.

From my room I'd hear the humming of the pool's filter,
and Daddy's reassuring voice in rhythm with the sound--
My younger sister and brother would grab hold of me,
as we chased our dog down the stairs toward the porch--
And sat in the twilight with love surrounding us,
before bed-time arrived and engulfed us in peaceful sleep.
Dedicated to my parents, Nicolina and Peter, who made the glory days of summer more joyful with their presence ! RIP !
Climbing up the tree of sanity,
forgetting how I came to be;
A beginning or an ending calls,
between the fanciful purple walls.

Moving onward to reach the top,
looking forward to where I'd stop;
I've seen the mischief behind the walls,
where squabbles twist like little squalls.

Now where could I find my own place,
to start and end this boundless race ?
A step toward home is what I need,
yet wanderlust has been my creed.

It's all a fantasy that sweeps away,
the musky scent of battles at play;
On awakening from this hapless dream,
the world arranges another scheme.

And purple walls come tumbling down,
like violets torn from the underground;
But with the colors they have shown,
at last I've reached my sacred home.
The mood seems desolate at dusk,
a time when emotions are on the rise;
The shining hours of day are gone,
and mystical images confront our eyes.

Not quite sure of what we see,
in the vastness of the indigo skies;
'Round about the glowing lamps of light,
keenly focused upon iridescent sights.

Are we witnessing life's mysteries unfold,
the way our elders' stories told ?
Yet darker still our evening grows,
shivering, shaking in the windless cold.

Sitting close on our front porch swing,
seeking wonders of imagining;
There they go--the ghosts of our youth,
which beckon still despite the sting.

We're not alone as visions float by,
and dawn reveals what the future may bring.

Frances McClelland
July 17, 2016
Meandering minds recall their place,
with fraught emotions tangled;
Appearing in a shadowy world,
where words are torn and mangled.

In recesses of profound desire,
when fiery images lose their way;
Through many doors they've wandered,
yet their souls are tossed and frayed.

Again and again this fire deploys,
a fiercely bound intention;
To rise among the smoke and ash,
lifting hope for mass redemption.

So many doors from which to choose,
for the fractured shells of every man;
Laying undisturbed to diffuse the flames,
in the wild and wind-swept rain.
There's another time before this time,
frequently lost in space;
A kaleidoscope of fears and doubts,
desperately longing to escape.

But in that world of inexplicable time,
worry dominates thought;
The needless, mindless misery,
from a heart that can't be bought.

Wherein lies the answer still,
for moments tossed aside ?
As torment and grief curve into waves,
roaming aimlessly through the tides.

We may never know from where it comes,
the substantive relief;
But perhaps one day the ebb and flow,
will rescue our beliefs !
"Hope Springs Eternal" as the old adage says !
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.
An old-fashioned fantasy romance from back-in-the day brings treasured memories to mind !
Clinging to the words of inspiration,
marking every moment of elation;
Seeking to propel this last creation,
into avenues of thought and admiration.

Crowded paths of overflowing minds,
convey messages of life in clever rhymes;
Mystic images might often seem sublime,
denoting worthiness of our substantial time.

We go about the day as wonders grow,
and fill the void of empty-headed show;
Words appearing magically in streaming flow,
awakening like blossoms under the snow.

And with the latest work at fingers' touch,
we let the public share in curious watch;
With hope--ideas stir toward faithful trust,
of connections made by willing poets' ******.
The intoxicating freshness of autumn,
with trees swaying in defiance of nature's change;
And the singed dusk crackling in fiery red,
competes with final scents of summer's claim...

A profound sense of possibility lingers still,
fulfilling hopeful views released by fate;
While love's luminous lantern's constant burn,
arises in aromatic lushness at the gate.

Triumphant in the numinous effects,
that brings humanity falling to its knees;
Watching leaves drift softly by in random,
as stars align like ships upon the sea.

Impulsive winds begin their haunting play,
to sounds of aimless footsteps from the stairs;
And in the garden's fading wisp of flowers,
soulful mysteries dissolve in varnished air.
Escape is not the way toward resolution,
a runaway soul needs more than quick solutions;
While mindless measures trample every chance,
to see the changes wrought in tactless glance.

Despite new moves that carry you along,
those shattered scenes create a mellow song;
And when each word of comfort goes awry,
the heart grows restless for sweet lullabies.

In haste the mind's uneasy sense of fate,
renews sad memories than can never wait;
And the lonely waning hours of the evening,
foment all wretched fears upon the grieving.

Reflecting now on visions fraught with terror,
encircling the outer edge of 'now or never';
A sudden burst of life reclaims the soul,
as wisdom takes its place in honor's role.
I stroll along the plateaus of deception,
beneath me lies the valley of rejection;
I can see the distant vistas that proclaim,
their forces which reflect life's secret shame.

The path to righteous ways becomes a myth,
and souls refute each argument that shifts;
To swollen skies of ghosts which envy saints,
then fall into the chasm of their fate.

The dangling stars project ethereal light,
in universal swoon of sheer delight;
From awestruck signals demonstrating power,
rolling thunder throughout each waking hour.

My shadow leaves me all alone to ponder,
this eerie sense of apocalyptic wonder;
And even if one soul evolves toward sanity,
it's quite enough to salvage all humanity.
To and from the bar in a drunken stupor,
not knowing or caring if I live or die;
My self-worth descends to the lowest level,
while obsessing on the tears I've yet to cry.

Back home again I face an empty page,
no words but my own name and a silly title;
Exhaustion peaks at noon while coffee perks,
but maybe just a touch of scotch to settle .

I feel as If I'm crawling deep within,
an abyss of more self-pity and endless fears;
My senses dulled by alcohol won't revive,
until the soulless spirits disappear.

Looking out the window to the night,
as the harvest moon glows gently in the sky;
And pour my cup of coffee as I gaze,
at this cosmic miracle shining before my eyes.

The darkness seems to halt then dissipate,
bringing hope this stardust scene would last forever;
Then facing scrawls of words which lay before me,
I'm aware the time for change is now or never.
I saw the film "The Lost Weekend" with Ray Milland, an "oldie but goody" on Turner Classics, and I wrote this based on the character's personal struggles with the demons of alcoholism. Mr. Milland won an Academy Award for his performance which was, indeed, mesmerizing.
Wherever light dispels the hate,
our poems rhyme at heaven's gate;
We seek the spirit of the night,
to cast away our painful plight.

With Jesus dying for our sins,
His holy wounds a sacred glimpse;
Of fateful death upon the Cross,
to build up hopes despite our loss.

Yet frightened notions may exist,
in minds and souls that still persist;
To turn away from sacrificial love,
and angels flying with the Dove.

Surrender toward the saintly sphere,
where songs are sung and lilies appear;
The glow of light shines into hearts,
which Christ will never tear apart.
A brief Easter blessing !
At first there was a gust of wind,
that shattered meager minds;
Forever gone those broken dreams,
now replaced by curious rhymes.

From the essence of a spirit's voice,
the flowing breezes contemplate;
Each thought diminished by the cold,
which freezing rains soon dissipate.

In countless times of pondering,
where a moment starts and ends;
Left demolished in a whirl of smoke,
that shrouds what words intend.

As emptiness creeps within a heart,
which once was filled with bliss;
A stranger walks upon the earth,
to find what he has missed.

With mighty forces at his side,
an icy blast is blown apart;
And destiny arrives to save,
secrets held right from the start.
Persuasive notions locked away,
in many minds that go astray;
When working along cryptic lines,
which falter during chaotic times.

While hidden in a separate space,
these musings tend to be erased;
Forgotten now in empty spheres,
dissolve as echoes of chronic fears.

Perhaps society has been foretold,
of magic tales so brave and bold;
Yet through the mastery of lies,
they disappear before our eyes.

Inside the quaintly shuttered room,
the words seem subtle but still in tune;
When wanton tales aroused before,
a complex world of closing doors.
Suddenly awakening before the dawn,
with emotions spinning like a wheel;
Gray skies misty with drizzled tears,
make suffocated voices strong and real.

The room still dreary from the night,
which is engulfed by the sullen sphere;
As hearts beat with strange imaginings,
through words one can barely hear.

Then sitting up promptly in my bed,
with lightning shattering in beams;
Shooting along the walls like comets,
which have appeared in cosmic dreams.

Wildly unsettled by a fevered pitch,
are the loosely painted faces;
Strung along the many mirrored walls,
forming shadows that time erases.

Behind the mask of violent rage,
there still resides a saintly cause;
As terror strikes within the soul,
God's angels seek a silent pause.

Bringing daylight with its welcome shine,
ridding the world of all its pain;
With their holy forces striking out,
delivering hope from Heaven's domain.
My heart surrenders its shadow to you,
the guardian of all that's warm, good, and real--
Forever my soul's bountiful gift.

I walk in grace--
For you are my honor, my restful sleep of peace,
My fortune, my future.

Now is our time--there is no waiting,
the hunger fed, the thirst quenched--
Hope revived beyond solitude,
Love lingering amidst the clouds--
No longer hidden,
               behind the sun.
Lingering in the heavy mist of shadows,
a blinding light from underneath the waters;
Piercing the cobalt sky with knife-like prongs,
against the rippling tides of ocean's tatters.

Then as the sea rages on with lightning flashes,
its waves rambling far from sandy shores;
And down below all creatures cling to life,
while trapped within its consecrated lure.

The wayward shells now strewn across the beach,
pretending they are safe when sunset glows;
Yet even as the winds turn soft and breezy,
a wounded bird is caught in frantic blows.

As glittering waves embrace the darkest night,
and seagulls thrash about in ocean's depth;
Beneath them shines a bolt of secret light,
where all the lowly creatures quietly wept.
The church was crowded with lonely souls,
while winds swept through its stained-glass windows;
An uneasy fog seemed to engulf the faithful,
as flickering candles emitted an eerie glow.

The altar dressed entirely in sacred white,
now completely enveloped in the misty haze;
Each penitent watched as outside grew dark,
an oncoming sign of the near-evening's phase.

While asking the Lord in His generosity,
to bless everyone and keep them safe;
The carillons began ringing a holy chime,
emanating peace throughout this saintly place.

Each person then felt like a child of God,
songs of angels flowed through the room;
When the whole congregation joyfully joined,
reaffirming their vows as sweet voices in tune.

What a gift to share in the mystical ways,
of the blessed Lord and His most humble flock;
Each soulful connection between God and mankind,
will remain strong and steadfast as a ticking clock.

We seek benediction when our hope seems lost,
yet we're promised the world won't implode;
The path to heaven shall awaken our hearts,
with new-found courage to travel His honored road.
Where devils dance within the storm,
of caustic rage and sin;
A horror dwells inside each heart,
and soon the sky turns grim.

The trees of knowledge fall to the ground,
in wind-swept whirls of leaves;
And only love can cure the souls,
of the curious and bereaved.

Beware of lasting gusts that fly,
through hollowed arcs defined;
For in the stone-cold solitude,
these images are realigned.

The caution taken then is blessed,
by the calm after the storm;
And by the fire we'll rest our heads,
to keep us safe and warm.
Forgive me for prying into your world,
all I have to say for now...
I'm settling scores from years ago,
within a sphere of wondering how.

The rattled brains have long dissolved,
their words painted a tired obsession;
I've run far away from tragic claims,
and fake magnanimous confessions.

As I raise the lantern above my head,
where freedom finds its holy name;
A phantom cry explodes out loud,
impervious to the acid rain.

Now don't bewitch me with your spell,
bewildered promises from the past;
Pushing against your own reality,
eventually surface from the blast.

Good night is all I have to say,
goodbyes can be reckless and harsh;
But soon you'll find me disappeared,
wading slowly through the devil's marsh.
At first glance a light appears,
which no one dares to follow;
A tingling feeling through our bones,
and breathing becomes shallow.

One step coaxed along the road,
as words float through the wind;
With clarity of prevailing wonder,
they ignite our hearts within.

While overcoming fearful thoughts,
we're propelled into the void;
In a magnitude of sweeping energy,
our mortal souls could be destroyed.

Yet the boundless reach of eternal life,
can color our hearts' passions;
In surrender to their potent dreams,
then dispersed among the ashes.

But sounds reverberate in golden tones,
from the towering strength of light;
And magically we can touch the clouds,
while melting peacefully into the night.
Dreams can take us all to many places,
traveling to whereabouts unknown;
Imagination stirs our inner desires,
as elements of mind are tossed and blown.

Magnetic energy pulls our deepest thoughts,
into a maze of magical creation;
Vibrant colors shape our infinite view,
and lighten our hearts with sweet elation.

We're set amidst a huge cornucopia,
of comets, stars, pixie dust and meteors;
A cavalcade of grandeur and wonder,
like confetti falling delicately to the floor.

At dawn we'll awaken with inspired visions,
of future worlds with endless possibilities;
From the elaborate journey far beyond the rainbow,
which has lovingly shaped our sense of reality.
Vacant sounds of emptiness,
fuels within a deep desire;
To reach beyond the galaxy,
and seek what we require.

Silence stems from raging storms,
with lightning bolts of terror;
Confusion reigns until they end,
in thunderous claps of wonder.

Then all is quiet as we take,
a chance to capture grace;
Within the confines of new worlds,
transcending time and space.

Glory showered from the sky,
renews our faithful journey;
And solitary as the moon,
brave hearts beat with purity.
this is an older poem I wrote some years ago. I think it has potential to grow into something more profound but for now, just re-typing it, I've discovered what I meant when it was first conceived. Thanks for reading it !
The sky lights up with sunny smiles,
that shower rays for many miles;
And Nature prospers from its powers,
as gardens bloom with fragrant flowers.

But what still waits in the world beyond ?
a sun that glows can't be undone;
Yet in the darkest hours we see,
the moon replace day's reverie.

In galaxies across the universe,
expanding time repeats its verse;
Of words that gently touch the soul,
while finding truth's commanding role.

So in the space that guides our way,
we seek to live another day;
Beyond the sun where heaven shines,
we'll sit and wait for dreams divine.
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