It beats, and rumbles, and breathes;
like the roar of an irrepressible beast
our lust and desires shake the earth below,
fracturing the dusted dirt of our hearts.
Cherished hopes become slow dancing trees
we burn to feel warmth
as we chase after an unsustainable beauty.

Then with an abrupt ebb,
our intrepid recklessness sobers,
So we turn to jesters and alleyway fools
to learn how to quit.

Forgive me
for never saying
what your heart as longed to hear
it's not that I cannot
but more
that I dare not

for what
words could I

a humble Poet speak...

to make
your heart mine own

as your heart

owns

mine.

On silken wings and silken strings
the garden doth awake
and from their beds those sleepy heads
their petals gently shake
a snail or two say how are you
as bumblebees take wing
to nectar sweet with sticky feet
as skylarks start to sing
a ladybug sleeps yet so snug
beneath a quilted leaf
her dreams untold as wings unfold
as earthworms crawl beneath
the ants at work refuse to shirk
they have no time to play
and cabbage whites like stars at night
take flight and fly away
the field mouse and wooded louse
attract the watchful eye
of tawny owl and feathered fowl
that own the morning sky
a homeward cat puts pay to that
no bird is fool enough
to try to land where danger stands
All teeth and claws called Fluff
so morrow breaks and nature wakes
and soon enough will we
but until then this land of men
is theirs so naturally

In my mind I see beauty,
Priceless imaginations and fantasies,
Still so many pass by,
Never to have truly lived;

A Spalsh of water,
Dozens of droplets left
To hang in suspension,
Temporarily weightless;

A hillside ablaze, tragic
As it might be, as the tress
A hundred feet tall fall,
Yet life will renew one day;

Two bodies lie together,
One wrapped by the arms
Of another, in silence,
Motionless, in love;

Standing on the shore,
Waves thrashing about ankles,
The sunset so still,
Sleepy above the horizon;

Summer rains
Drench our clothes,
As thunder and lightning
Storm and rumble our hearts;

Laying in the grass,
Warm and dry and green,
Watching from above,
As clouds pass below;

Lengthy moments, with
Another, and you see
Behind those eyes,
The discorded truth;

The capricious life,
Led when one finds
Adventure - finally,
Air that gives breath;

Trees in a forest,
Shuddering in wind
Prepared to die,
To serve others always;

The dance of a flame,
Lit upon a candle,
As if it was such a stage,
Of respect and acclimation,

The embrace of friends,
Love, new and old,
Kinship undying,
Future unnerving;

An infant child,
Held in arms built of
Love and other fine things,
Spoken to in honest tongue;

An evening in the yard,
A ball tossed about,
Suns set each time,
Times long since past;

The will to live,
Truly a special gift,
That which not all ascertain,
Not granted to all alive;

The symphony made up,
From tiny noises does it emanate,
Strong, resolute, with finesse
Collectively, in cooperation;

From atop the highest peaks,
On mountain tops abroad,
The world sprawled out
In utterly perfect disarray;

Passion for Love and Living,
For oneself and for others,
For the tradition and routine,
For the surprise and serendipitous;

Crystal clear waters,
Amply temperate air,
Sunlight broken intermittently,
By green trees and foliage abound;

The propensity to change,
To mold, shape, to evolve,
In fear out of the light,
Found within everything.