My memories, like lightning bugs,
flash then disappear from my imagery.
Redundancies of an aging mind; an hourglass
with only inches left.
“We become contemporaries with our own ancestors”
and taking a close seat,
We listen for lessons, for understanding and,
perhaps, forgiveness both ways.
Time like a sunflower, which slowly dries,
blown by winds singularly drops seed.
Birds flock, open-beaked, break open substance,
leaving random survivors to sprout.
In a dark field clouded by time my eyes try to focus
to read the code flashing
As grains drop among this tall stand of acres
and acres of glowing sunflowers.

This is the true format which gets truncated on this site.  Drives me crazy, LOL!

Secret-sharers
My memories, like lightning bugs, flash then disappear from my imagery;
Redundancies of an aging mind; an hourglass with only inches left.
“We become contemporaries with our own ancestors” and taking a close seat,
We listen for lessons, for understanding and, perhaps, forgiveness both ways.

Time like a sunflower, which slowly dries, blown by winds singularly drops seed.
Birds flock, open-beaked, break open substance, leaving random survivors to sprout.
In a dark field clouded by time my eyes try to focus to read the code flashing
As grains drop among this tall stand of acres and acres of glowing sunflowers.

With the tide, coming in, going out
The boat rises and falls
Like our gentle rocking.
Rising and falling
Like your chest does now.
I lay my heard on you,
Listen to a heart that pounds
Afterwards.  You cradle me
In the warm ocean of love.

I grew and it made more room for me
But it also made more room for you.

Did you actually think you found love
After me? You left for her, after all.

If I could I would tell you what I know:
Love expands, it lifts up, it wants the best,

It guides our paths through darkness.
Love illuminates the way as it opens up.

It does not implode after you have died.
True love never dies no matter how one tried.

We climb the stars
Make honey in our hearts
Mad as a jack rabbit
We leap into dark holes
Walk among winged creatures
Quiver in our skins
And swear that we can fly
Feather light on love alone

My trust is left as fragile as a spider web,
Yet, my love was as strong as a single thread,
As strong as a steel girder in one of your buildings.
When you hurt me, it seemed that the dark night
Would never stop trembling within me.
I was left to sleep outdoors with our children.

My heart lay in my chest bruised and wounded.
For a while it was black and putrid with hatred.
This was not the man that I knew so well,
Fell in love with, happily married.  No, some
Evil "other" put poison into the vein to overpower.
As the fang bites deeper and they secure the grip.

The bite perfected with each attempt, at first
That which was only a snag of a fang held until
Both fangs could drip a poisonous brew into you.
Threads of the web slowly broken by her design
To envenomate and poison a "forever-bound" love.
She said, "Let me free you from the web.  

Here, taste this."

Through lessons learning, at times hard,
The young man makes note within his personality,
Files it away for later days to work on.
And he continues with life with only a flicker of recall.

Sometime during his 60s he flips through the files
Seeking to amend some deficiency there in
And finds the file on his lack of patience, his lack
Of understanding, his deep-seated prejudices.

Thus, he sets to work.  By the end of his lifespan
He is at long last a decent enough human being.
So late.  But too late?  Those who come to know this man
Think only of the loving, patient, and open-minded man
Which they see before them.  Redemption is sweeter than pride.

Rain-scented perfume, this
Aromatic smell of rain-soaked earth
Monsoon-infused, centuries-old.

A man turns his head towards the laughter
As he crushes a batch of ancient clay.
Knowingly his attention returns to his family.

It is the smell of the baked, parched soil
When the first rains arrive after the drought
Which concerns the artisan of scented oils.

The enticing fragrance fills the air
With each precious drop of heavy syrup
Eked from the ages, eked from eternity.

Captured in the tiny bottle, power-filled.
The process has survived the fall of civilizations
And empires and conquerors.

It is said to have healing powers.
Aged like the land and its ancient people,
Deep and rich, the liquor of the essence of time.

It must come from this land, this people.