Golden brown, a lush trickle
Flows like curly, hanging moss
That tells its own story.

The creepers latch tightly, before two caverns
Black contours surround them
Darkness in the caverns, out flies an angelic flare
Into the wild.

Mountain peak rises, a ridge
It supports a twin fork crown
Down below, it gallantly holds a steed down

Red rivers, a soft powder
Decorates the salient structure
It shines and draws an infectious smile
Raising my ears and lifts my eyes.

There is this gal across the pond …
in and from
a different time than me.

Her words, her spirit
have lifted me up
and given me much to see.

Her views of life
lived and perceived
hold so many things of value.

I hope you read them
sooner than later.
Make a promise, shall you?

From notions and memories
and a precious little girl ...
You will love journeying her magic realm.

Board her ship
and enjoy the sights
resting assured with her at the helm.

Relish in her life
as I have on this moment.
Relish in her words and hold them dear.

Finding a soul such as this
may happen only once
and it makes it all worth being here.

I adore you, sweet Mary.
You've made my life much brighter
and my outlook outshines even this.

I hope on your journey,
all your journey's
you never, ever find
anything but well-deserved bliss.

Godspeed Mary Gay Kearns!

Poems aren't written,
they're found,
Somewhere in your head the words are waiting,
They're sprawled across the floor,
You just need to pick them up,
Make a path with them,
Let your path guide observers,
And if you can't write,
Walk down somebody's else's path first,

If I wrote a book,
you will be my central character.
Million copies later,
I may write through your impeccable knowledge.

If I wrote a poem,
you will be in every word.
A couple of views later,
I may speak through your poetic silence.

If I acted in a play,
you will be my audience.
A few applauses later,
I may act out a monologue of glorious affection.

Say hi,
Say hello,
Say no more,
When words stop,
I will understand,
That we are where we need to be.

If I met you in real life,
you will be my soul mate.
A few decades later,
I may seek a second life with you.

So, meet me now! :)

Penning down the thoughts
Am I not done with the words
Have I used them all?

Round and round
Thoughts and words
In the loop bound

The thoughts have been naughty
Jump off the mind cliff,  doughty
Don’t want to be worded
Flight to nowhere boarded
Off the radar crash land , all spotty

Today I was told a story
Of a little child and her bird
And of how she had a string
That she tied to its leg
Every time she let the bird go
It would start to fly away, thinking it was free
But she would always pull the bird back,

And the bird never learned
So it kept trying to fly away
Hoping one day his wish would come true

I feel like the bird
Always trying to be free
But being pulled back by some force that I have yet to discover

Maybe the bird always knew
That he would die in the child's hands

Just like I know
That I will keep trying,
Trying to fly away
Even if my string is pulling me back

Through the country paths, I lazily loitered,
watching Nature in its changing hue
straying farther into the interiors,
sundry and sublime vistas came into view.

in response to zephyr’s warm embrace,
the silvery leaves joyously fluttered.
the bees busied themselves collecting pollen
and birds on tree tops merrily chattered

it was the *** end of verdant spring.
summer’s sun stood behind my head.
bleat of sheep was heard from far.
‘Good day to you’….. Someone said.

There stood on the hill, a boy around fifteen
obviously he was of tribal breed.
with a beaming smile, he greeted me
but on walking to him, he ran like a steed

I saw him disappear behind the trees
and enter into a hut tiny as a nest
he lived in the lap of Mother Nature,
far from the city and its sooty dust

being coaxed, he hesitantly came out.
my tone of assurance and pleasing smile,
seemed to have won his confidence
as to a friend, he shared his eventful tale.

pointing to the sheep grazing in the *****,
he said, he earned a living caring the flock.
he stayed in the woods all day long,
feeding and tending his master’s sheep.

from dawn to dusk, through woods and meads,
he leads his sheep, calling them by their name.
un vexed, with simple pleasures he is content
and with a nomad’s life, he seems to be tame

he said, at home he has his invalid mother.
bringing her back to health is his mission in life
on referring to his mother, I watched his eyes glitter
nothing other than her illness posed to him a strife

from every utterance, I could sense his filial love.
even in abundance, while shadows line many faces,
on his visage, hope lingered as a dancing flame
to me he seemed above many, rich in other graces!

While parting, I handed him a little money
pausing unbelievably, with moist eyes
he accepted it, when a breeze passed caressing us
as if over a kind gesture, Nature seemed to rejoice!

You dug today
Some mud and clay
With two-year-old hands
And a giant *****.
You dug today
A new place to play
Filthy, muddy wonderlands;
Just the place for an escapade!

Voici que la saison décline,
L'ombre grandit, l'azur décroît,
Le vent fraîchit sur la colline,
L'oiseau frissonne, l'herbe a froid.

Août contre septembre lutte ;
L'océan n'a plus d'alcyon ;
Chaque jour perd une minute,
Chaque aurore pleure un rayon.

La mouche, comme prise au piège,
Est immobile à mon plafond ;
Et comme un blanc flocon de neige,
Petit à petit, l'été fond.

i want to tell you.
i really do.
i'd love to spill my secrets, my issues to you.
yet i can't comprehend it.
i can't communicate it to you.
and the fact you could leave me.
it makes my heart a tearful blue.
you already look at me as if i'm broken.
what do i have to lose?
i want to tell you.
i really do.
yet i can't cope with the fact.
the fact your presence may fade.
vanish without a trace.
except you'd still have that key.
the key that can unlock the darkness in my brain.