Heart tissue in space
After just one month
Shows signs of aging.

Perhaps, this indicates
That we humans should
Keep our feet on the ground.

At least metaphorically.

Classical Dictionary:
Scrapbook
Peaceful
Lady
Adore
Ballet
Embellish
Fondness
Balloon
Ephemeral
Love

Scrapbook, a Poem
The Peaceful Lady Adored Ballet
She often Embellished her Fondness
For Balloons for they were as Ephemeral
As Love

I dialed your number
Let it ring

Once, twice
Quickly hung up

Why would fear seize me
Dear old friend

Perhaps it is because
We occupied a place
Best forgotten

Her lips, like cherries,
Strawberry is spread
throughout her hair.
Pools of Saphire
Sparkle in her large eyes.
She is budding
From childhood into beauty.
Her ******* are blooming,
Fragrant roses.
She will walk on strong legs
With widening hips
Into the domain of men,
Where they will sigh
Quietly inside, and
She will hold every gaze
As she becomes queen
To some king.

It was so nice to see that honeyed-sky
Back from days of the cloudy tides
To watch the cherry, apricot, marmalade
Flowing now wide for many sunny days
I could if I were a mighty celestial hand
Dip and spread it on toast in every land.

The poignancy of grief
Reaches deep
Down into a soul
Seeking answers to understand,

The search to know.

This fondness for 'lonely',
Desired desolate places, in grief,
Become a symbol of utter desolation
Of a soul so hurt it resides in total ruin

Absent of humankind.

The bunny rabbit
would climb from her pocket
and hop around on her lap,
And we would all laugh.

Joy at seeing a remarkable sight,
She had a tiny little rabbit
Which lived in her apron pocket.
We believed it to be true.

For we had seen the tiny babies
That she would often save from dogs.
She kept them warm and fed
Until strong enough to be set free.

But this little one was always there
Living in her apron pocket and never grew.
Only as we grew did we come to understand.
She always had a hanky or tissue.

It magically transformed into the creature.

One set of blue eyes
Were crazy and to be feared
The other set of blue eyes
Were loved and revered

Beneath the one set
Was a mouth that screamed
Beneath the other set
Was a mouth with gentle smile

For all that has been taken
I am receiving much more
The hope that has been delivered
I take it, but I give some to you

The beautiful thing with hope
Is as it is divided and given
It regenerates and becomes whole
Until the original hope grows

And doubles again and again
Like a cell as it creates its own copies
And doubles again and again
So just like cells, hope will divide until

There is more than enough to share

We strut up and down the page.
Our poems are all the rage.
Our advice is more than sage
As we prance on poetry's stage.

Everyone reads our words, now.
Parades are given in city and town
To make our offspring proud.
Such a thing could happen.  How?

Yet, everybody surely knows
For neither fancy poems nor proses
Was such glory never shown!
When with a **** I am shaken.  O, woe,

For I suddenly am awakened.

Mother comes to where she is most needed
Her gibbering womb speaks healing words
She tells of times when she was barren
She recalls the times when she gave birth
She speaks of pain in the blood of children
Written in red on black hearts of evil men
She gathers children birthed by others to her
Covers them with the volume of her skirt
Though she had not born them she nurtures
Calls them hers and continue to give them life
Her womb speaks of each one as equaled in love
She is eternally Mother and the world is her child

breath
life
color
elements

you
me
the sea
a thousand shades of blue & green

Stealthily moving through the forest,
Slinking in and out of trees, weeds, wildflowers, is the fox.
Red deer appear in an open meadow grazing.  Dusk is near,
The yawning day begins to close its bleary heavy eyes.  And
A distant raven caws a warning that he knows you are there.
Nature is not fooled by the games we play.

Our ancient genes carried us forwards, theirs, and ours.
Millenniums have passed by, and we each have stood
In one another’s presence.  The forest, the field,
**** and wildflower, the fox, the deer, the ravens.  
Not by pure magic, not by happenstance, but by design.
And we are so very blessed to be among one another.
  
A rich tapestry weaves like a comforting blanket around us.

We are revived
We are made new
We have become
Part of the young
Standing on shoulders
Who stood on the old
Solid foundations
Of so many others
Past and present
We become one
And tower above
Until we can all see

I have a monkey on my back!
I pour it into my coffee cup
I give it a sip and a smack.
It is white and dreamy,
Oh, so thick and creamy
And yummy fluffed up.
I simply cannot get enough.
I'm up to at least 2 cartons a week
Do you think they have an Anonymous
For that?

Summer rushes heavy with rain
When it was dry we cried
- "Let it rain!"
In sudden bursts after wildfires
The ground was churning out
- Wildflowers!

Autumn gently poured color
On leaves clinging to trees
That drop.  We rake them into piles
For into these we must jump
With faces broad with smiles, until
Then winter snow starts to fall

And begins to cover all
- Down-like
Dressing the land in winter-white
Among the young
And the very young at heart
The cry goes out

"Snow angels!"  Before the spring.

Honeysuckle weeks
Filled with humid heat
Where the hot Texas sun plays
And I know where to seek
What it is that hang, unsung,
On an old broken fence rung.

I, in my bare feet,
Reach in, pluck a vine to retreat
Into the cool dense shade
Among the pecan grove, hid away
To sit and harvest drops
Of the sweet liquid inside.

As skilled child harvester, I sit,
Slightly pinch the blossom, then stop,
Free the flower from stamen with a slide
For Summer’s ephemeral gold drops
Unseen treats one only can get
During honeysuckle weeks.

There are broken minds
In the world
Some that can be healed
We hope and feel.

But among these are still
The unfixable.
Humanity cries for better care.

I believe doctors should
Put the severely addicted
Into medical comas.

They do it for the traumatized.
What could be trauma
More than the soul-deep injury
Of addiction?

I will come that day to you
When you do call me out
And I leave my father’s house.

When you to me do call
I will give to you my all,
For a house you build I long.

And I will sing a special song
Which only you will hear
When no one else is near.

Sprouts will grow in our fields
And 'round our table, here,
Where all feel safe from fear.

As our children spring up like buds.

In human relationships we start out on the teeter-totter of a fulcrum.  When one side of the relationship does something painful that affects the person at the opposite end of this balancing act the tetter-totter can become a slide.  At which point you must choose either to jump off or work harder to keep your balance so as to not go down the slide into anger and bitterness.  You may need to remove a harmful person from your life, jumping off the slide, as it were.  However, in life few things, if any, are worth punishing yourself with bitterness.  Yes, I said punishing yourself, because when a person spirals into anger and bitterness it is self-harm.

We strut up and down the page.
Our poems are all the rage.
Our advice is more than sage
As we prance on poetry's stage.

Everyone reads our words, now.
Parades are given in city and town
To make our offspring proud.
Such a thing could happen.  How?

Yet, everybody surely knows
For neither fancy poems nor proses
Was such glory never shown!
When with a **** I am shaken.  Woe,

For I suddenly am awakened.

It is love that makes one remember.
If no love, then what?  Then what?
No memory-

An ocean sonata washes over me
When I remember, remember you.
Devine Music-

It is love that erases pain from memory
As we dance through life.  Remember?
Soul seeking-

And, I will always have you, my love.

What is race?
A construct of bigotry.

I am part Scottish
I am part German
I am part English and more.

I am not ashamed of these.
I am not expected to be
Nor to explain that heritage.

My blood is mixed
With African, with Native American
Why can't I claim it?  Why must I explain it?

Why should I disown any part?
To make you more comfortable?

I must admit, however,
That I am often ashamed
To claim "human."

Her little belly glows.
It pulsates with anticipation
Waiting, listening for my voice.
Eager to please should have need.
When I am at rest she hears my breath,
And waits for me to speak so she can please.
Her little light interrupts my sleep at times
But she is there bright and early
To make sure that everything is fine.  I say,
Well, thanks to you need to go back to sleep,
You little busybody creep!

We were beautiful once.
Beautiful mom, handsome dad.
Such beautiful children produced.

But what is the use when scattered
From pillar to post all around this earth
And cannot find our way back to our home.

Butterflies makes themselves beautiful
From an ugly worm inside a strange case.
They are always able to find their way home.

He is off the tracks,
Wracked!
He is an utter
******!

A hateful
Hater!
Crazier than
Crazy!

I hear the refrain
Of a distant train
Taking him to the loony-bin.
Toot that horn buddy!

I want to hear it again and again!

There's a little frog
In the garden beds
Beneath my balcony.
Each morning, he greets
With his peep, peep, peep.
A spoonbill crane,
In its rose-colored cloak,
Swoops down to steal
A tasty meal.
But my little frog
Will sing its morning song,
On and on, still.

I see you're a bit damaged.
I'm a bit damaged, true.
After all we all at times fall.
Are we not human
With imperfect flesh?
Yes, at times, our lives
And our minds are a mess,
Yes, a big old ****** wreck,
Which others cannot seem
To avert their eyes away from.
Yet, they should look inward instead
Because they are damaged, too.
So, what is a human to do
But to make a tent of love
And protect all from
The damaging rains of hate.

The spirit of the snow is in the waters
Trickling down the mighty mountains
Flowing into streams, becoming waterfalls.

The spirit of the snow rushes to the sea.
It goes forward to waters bright and shining
To be taken up for next season's snowfall.

Turtles in vast oceans eats fish from waters.
Other creatures snack on remnants of flesh.
They in turn will be eaten by larger fish.

That same ancient spirit is in all.

Look, listen, strive, and grasp at the depth of all things.

There is a depth of sadness in you that hurts my heart,
And the lack of desire therein to seek and to find pains me.

Where there are shadows there has to be light illuminating.
Even in those depths of darkness, there are degrees of dark
Light plays with light and darkness, layer upon layer.

In music there are highs and there are lows as it flows.
Crescendos and decrescendos.  Adagio and allegro.

Fortississimo and diminuendo.  By degree pianissimo
Largo and on and on and on it goes.  Life is the same.
As all this wonder comes together there is harmony.

Plumb the unfathomable depths of the art and song of life.

Remember the adoring eyes
Of some little boy or girl
Who looked up to you?

How'd that feel now that it's gone?
Knowledge is like a time machine.
With it you can change your history.

You can go back, you can get it, again.

I watch him from afar
From across the bayou
He lies and sits next to
The building on a ledge
It is not his true home
It is his summer home
I guess as I watch him
Sleep all day, lie, and sit
Lie and sit, and stare
It appears that he sees me
As I see him seeing me there
On his roost, day after day
What is he thinking
When he sees me watching
Does he envy my comfy space
Does he wonder about my life
As I wonder about his life
When he is not there I worry
Has something happened
On rainy days he's not there
And I hope he has a dry place
Is as safe as the homeless can be
Does he panhandle nearby
Does he make enough to eat
Are others kind to him
Is he a ******* or insane
How can he sleep on cement
Long hours go by, he sleeps
Where will he go when it's cold
I wish that he would just go
Out of sight out of mind
But he will haunt me a while
Even when he's no longer there
But I wish that he would leave
My heart can't take in his pain
He has already filled it up

The gabber-jaws
Come for us all
Peeking through curtains
Watching us as we live
Wanting something
Juicy for certain
Something to give
And to give
Gabber-jaws seek
Anything clean
They can turn *****
To use in elevating of self
Looking for your secrets
Big or the small
The good or the bad
They do not care a wit
They'll proclaim all
Just waiting for your fall
To climb your body
And be seen by all

1: steadfast in affection or allegiance: Loyal//a faithful friend
2: firm in adherence to promises or in observance of duty
3: given with strong assurance: Binding//a faithful promise
4: true to the facts, to a standard, or to an original// a faithful copy

Choose the quality for yourself and in others.

What do I do
When what I suspect
Is true, really is true?
Do I cut all ties with you?
Will I peer through the fog
To peek at the truth?
Or pretend through blurry eyes?

Life with them is as though
We are playing the Hokey Pokey.

You put your whole self in
But they stop playing after an arm,
A leg, or simply, perhaps, a pinky.

They think they are the gateway
To all happiness.  They deeply believe this!
Without their presence there can be nothing.

It's like waiting for Santa Clause to arrive
In the parade or at the party.

Until they grace us with their appearance
Nothing can begin.

Empathic failure does not exist in them.
They are an unfinished puzzle and one
That can never finish,

Although they feel perfect while still in box.
Life with them is like some crazy dance
Which they lead but we will never learn.