What is this quiet soul to do?
My voice and fingers are stuck like glue
The boredom overwhelming my senses very alive
For hours and hours I dare strive
The silence is drowning me inside
I stammer and suffer begging for words to come to my sight
Sometimes I wonder if I should just give up this fight
Oh hearts of hearts please break these ties
So my soul may once again take flight

It is dull and barren
A Melancholy, listless day

Nature had sent the sinless spring
Into momentary silence, as if to shame

There are millions of nature’s mysteries
That I do not understand nor lay claim

The harsh now billowing west wind’s eyes
Engulf white-tipped frothy waves  

The midnight storm showers and lightning did mate
The fresh rain melts lavender petals in my wake

I was entranced by its walls of gloom, dark and dim
Manhood beats gallantly finally ridden of their sin

Childhood eternal biding silently
The lovely lulling sea almost swept me away

If not for the hypnotizing dance of the sea
It slapped a salty soul mist across my cheeks

My kindred spring soulfully awoke from slumber
To dancing clouds of joy that sliced the thunder

The sweet art of marmalade skies
Smiled back at me with June eyes

Water of praise
Fiercely echoes
In dappled twilight
God finger paints
Upon a sordid soul
A graceful eclipse
Sunlight dawns
Beckons my heart
Luscious crystal nectar
Sunbeams I swallow
Purple rainbows fly
In the morning bliss
I want the sky to kiss
The dawn is now paradise
No longer in somber
Spring rejoices and reflects
My arms wide and naked
I soar with the air
Spring pulsing evermore

Sunshine is a reflection of her soul
Feeling to the depths of her being
She feels the heat of the sun
Her dimples shine as she smiles genuinely
She remembers all those who love her
Those who called her sunshine
She climbs out of her shell
Into the world born again
She grows stronger as the sun rises
She will always remember her name

Is it a dream or distant memory?

An Italian Concerto begins

The alto singer bellows

A passionate tale

Proud and stout

He commands attention

                                                      ­      A classic narcissistic symphony


Balancing a tight-rope

A thunderous crescendo begins

Drums rattle and roll

Strumming your violin

You tip, waddle and fall

Boom, Bang, Ting, Tang

                                                          A­ symphony of broken things


Your white walls marred

Sheet-Rock littered floors

By years of crimson scarlet

You know this scene by heart

This is your life

A dramatic melody

                                                         ­   A symphony of broken things


You muster your courage

Hit your knees and pray

Picking up the pieces

Hoping his tune will change

You begin an ensemble

Piecing remnants together again

                                                          ­      A symphony of broken things

The indelible Ink flows from the pen
Gives life, hope and peace within

Or opens wounds and old scars
to tear down the spirit, behind the bars.

The Ink flows on to meet the eye
Fills the thirst to live or die.

It finds a path beyond emotion
Directs the heart, spirit, devotion.

The Ink can flow to encourage
or ravage the page to discourage

The ink brings tears of joy tomorrow
Or tears of grief and great sorrow

The ink will rise where it flows
Or it will fall where no one knows.

The heart of the Ink is yours and mine
When it touches the paper, it is divine

She whispers to heaven
No rainbows dampened
Young souls tossing
Pearl birds
Planet full of color
A purple myriad
Rejoicing iridescence
Whisper tears
Rustic turquoise
Revived sunlight
Fountain of harvest
Seas hypnotize
Goodbye twilight bliss

In the softest night
Free winter rises
Maiden blossoms sincere
Weary blossoms adhere
Winter grass is near
Naked tenderness is here
With tired kisses in the air
Goodnight springtime with care