Its the age between petal and
leaves
In the air that the woodland
breathes
From the darkness of the night
To the linen mornings wear
From a kingdom underwater
To being masters of the air

Genuinely a human being
is suppose to listen to bees

Bees are little bumblebees
Dalai Lama is the
Cutest of them
All

Beings
Endure good~ness
Bye

With a mission
Working sweetly
Wonderfully unselfish

Unending
For a greater  cause
Forgetting about the fame and the flattery laurels
Achievements and Archibalds

Focusing on liveliness of a recent call n
Frivolous flattering sounds
Are gentle blessings

You'd recon that I adore your
Intense passion for
Poetry
By the looks
By shut eyes  eager to be soon open for a glimpse of
Outerness

The listeners are performing
With slightest ****** mimics
With crossed legs open
Changing a position
Scrathes on head
Winking
Nodding
Inwardly borne self dialogues

Your soliloquy
Is the sea of
Love, life
Loving

Me

By the memory
Reciting
Bits of your heart beats

When the tin noise  
Of your crying
Tears tears
Apart
Interrupted
Rumbles

When you dream of the mortal coils descendant
As a halflings brought together through
Dissolving into the golden
Cocoons

You've seen two
Butterflies

I've seen one amongst many

Each a divine gift

Within wholeness

You

There's
No peace
When you dissapear

And I yearn to visit a cultural event
In total darkness (if i shut my poetic eyelids and cover them with both palms) then maybe only the blood's tiniest brooks within my fingers may start the signal for the motion pictures inside the ideal world

The World's Spinning
In a  Absolutely Poetic

Manner
Kirchenblau
Let me embrace peacfulness
Within the secret garden

Let me taste of your
Nectary thoughts

Let me lead you through
Thundery waters

Silk veils and lyricism

Let me lead you through
Fire and ice n'all that is
Nice

Let me . . . oh . . . Let me

Suffice

Dark is the night, by the light of day

Harsh are the words, which some people say

Grievous the malaise, which we often feel

Deep are the wounds, of a hurt that won’t heal

Lasting the wrong, to whom it is done

Fleeting the moment, when praises are won

Tragic the loss, of someone we love

Empty the feeling, when they are thought of
WIZDUMBs BY JA 619

She’s brewing like rich wine
the older she gets
her each added faceline
my eyes satiates.

She’s huing like violets
purpling is her soul
tho older she gets
she's never too ole.

She’s frothing like nectar
honeying in core
feels endless this affair

I’m loving her more.