Stay-

Large white wings flapping
Carried the creature away
Into the bright mist of morning.

A thousand feelings rush in.
Summer rains have faded
To autumn, then winter.

A thousand feelings
Flung like cards being played
Some hard, some soft.

Was the bird soft or hard?
The mist was soft hanging there.
The morning, like many, was hard.

The weight of things, so like life.

Words mean what they mean, I ask?
But, ah, they can be nuanced or veiled.
They can be soft as cotton, feather-light,
Or hit like the proverbial ton of bricks
Dead on the nail head hammering
Their impact home.  That's the power
Of the weight of words.  Weigh them carefully.

Reality should soon set in, I warn you.
We are coming into that time of the year,
When temperatures rise and energy is too costly
As wages go down and prices climb higher.

Yes, we have failed ourselves and one another.
You will see those hungry faces looking for a crust.
While you are grateful for a roof and a bed
Hunger will continue to spread even to you.

As the insurance they paid into is cut off
The elderly will swelter and die in the heat.
As others look on, unable to sustain themselves
Or save precious others.

I feel like a dragonfly who’s lost its wing;
No! I feel like the dragonfly’s wing, lost;

Left to flutter down slowly in the wind,
To dwell, an iridescent gossamer thing,
Amidst a muddy range of things that ****

Dragonflies, and collect dragonfly wings.

Things I have learned as I am aging:
I am still learning

The thirsty bulbs in jars on the windowsill greedily stretch for water;
The little avocado tree, from last season that I potted, droops next to them.

Like me it too is tired of the cold.  I have an aching in my bones.
For spring?  For change?  For what?

The small sounds of the house, the rock of a cradle of trees nearby
Blend with the cold patter of raindrops which, on the roof evaporate

Into steamy dreams and into the night.

Inspired by Marc Morais' comments on his poem, Lily and Moon

The night hovered, a dark sheet of a night.
The moon spotlit my terrace despite.

One flower-face exceptionally bright
Turns upwards towards the light.

Shyly glancing up at such a great height
We in glorious slender stay in our respite,

And wrap this memory like a cloak of beauty
About us forever, so very tightly.

To change an opinion
it is not disingenuous.
Life and opinions
are situational.

As we grow as a person,
hopefully, our opinions
grow and become
more nuanced.

It is a sign of maturity.

Of the heart, I ask:
"What is wrong with you?"
I asked you a question.

"Why aren't you looking
at yourselves in the mirror?"
You do not look well!
"You idiot!"

The sick heart,
This heart, our heart,
Look at it, my love.

Du coeur je demande:
Of the heart, I ask
"Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas chez toi:
What is wrong with you?

Du als Objekt:
I asked you a question.
Du als Reflexivpronomen:
"Why aren’t you looking
at yourselves in the mirror?"
Pourquoi ne vous
regardez-vous pas dans le miroir?

"Vous n'avez pas l'air bien!"
You do not look well!
Du mit einem Nomen: "You idiot!"
"Les malades du cœur"
The sick heart,

"Ce cœur, notre cœur"
This heart, our heart,
de la regarder:
Look at it,
mon Coeur: my love.

A mist is rising, collecting in a fog which wraps all.
Reflected in the tall highway lights, shadow-like.
Obscured from full vision the traffic whizzes past.
Day will soon be dawning, and the fog will not last.
For now, I sit in the veiled cloud of humidity rising.

Whatever the wounds of heart
Regardless of the pains
Whatever heart-wound felt
Whether bruised and purple
Again, and again

Though it can be likened to
Walking a mile
With a pebble in our shoe
And a burden on our backs
We are assured we can rely on you

A thread like a river leads,
I follow its course in this weave.

My garment is woven to hold you
In my heart like a precious gem.

I open the bag as I open my heart
And see love gleaming within both.

You are the thread woven through
The warp and weft of my life.

What a beautiful fabric-

You cannot survive on dreams of hope
You must have hopes to dream,
Dreams to survive.

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.

I see your beauty through cables and wires,
Lines that marked "progress" in other ages.
I watch and wait for you to be wire free,

When suddenly it occurs to me,
You move like musical notes up a scale.
O, play your glorious symphony for me!

As I watch you rise in my sky, shaking free, so bright
Your image is superimposed behind lids closed tight
I may go blind from your splendored beauty.

And see a million suns for all eternity.

Wrapped in a gossamer bag
Translucent and light
Shimmering with many threads

Finely woven together.
Your gold to my silver
Will forever hold our love.

Time cannot accumulate
It can only be spent

Time cannot go backward
It can only move forward

Time should be treasured
Like the gifted jewel that it is

Cherish every second
For it cannot be relived

Time does not shape her,
For she holds it like threads in her hands,
Weaving moments, stitching hours,
Gathering days, weeks, months, years
Into centuries to be rolled out like fabric.

She makes her cloaks from the substance
Of time and wears ancient stardust in her hair.
She is old and she is new; time does not shape her.
Never allow it to shape you, folding you
Like some worn-out garment to be discarded.

While it is in your hands to do so, you shape time.

Believe me, I was once vibrant and young,
Strong but lithe and slight of frame, and pretty.
Filled with love of life and with hope,
I felt nothing could match my strength,
And throughout much of my life, few things did.
There was this whole world that was for the taking!

I strove with gusto to grasp much knowledge.
And flitted like a butterfly amongst it at my will.
Trees and fields were my currency, and
I felt rich in nature, which surrounded me.
It was what I valued, wealth spent judiciously.

I renewed and burned through storehouses of energy.
I wrapped myself in cloaks of green, wore flowers
Like talismans, encircled charms about the head and neck.
And I walked carpets of wildflowers as my path.
Nature, treasured, is imprinted on my soul to this day.
It is where I long to be, here and now, aging.

To my beloved family, I ask, only this request:
When life is done, sprinkle me among the pecan orchards,
Which was my first school, filled with many teachers, where
I, in studious quietude, spent my formative years. Remember
What shapes a person carries a person forward in life, yet,
Time, which we cannot alter, has its way with us, after all.

It takes time, little elephant, so try
It takes time, tiny baby, you'll crawl
It takes time to build a relationship
It takes time for one to dissipate

It takes time, my heart, so break
It takes time, You broken heart, now heal
It takes time, so dream, realize and feel
It all takes time

I see your beautiful mouth as you edge forward.
Your lips open, almost caressing the mic
And then honey pours out.

Your lyrics curl around those sitting here
Like smoke from a lone cigarette in a tray
And bind us all together.

Eyes close with tender inflection
Dragging us into his pain, again and again.
The music ends and his pain is gone

But will resurface the next time he sings.

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.

We deserve an answer,
We are not just prancers

In your dance.
We have the right

To have a chance,
And equal might.

No, we are not the dancers
For perverted glancers.

We too have free-will
Not solely for your thrill.

We too are people
And our pains are real.

We hurt, we cry, we feel.
So I am fighting with the quill!

We are all your equals!
Listen up you creep-os!

Stop strangling me
With marionette strings!

"How strange it is to be nothing at all,"
He thought, looking down to see
If there was actual flesh and bones.

Bad childhood memories have fathers
Who caused their births
And mothers who allowed them.

Light, perfect light,
You cannot scoop it up,
Get a sponge to absorb,
Collect it in jars.

Beautiful, just right
Light, it is ethereal
And cannot be captured
Nor contained.

But be assured that
With each new day
It will glow again
In its perfection

Across the morning sky.

“Often the Muse will not respond to direct and logical requests.
She must be lured in with the playful and gentle.” – Jill Badonsky

Step one: the lure

O, muse, love so true,
You Precursor,
You appear as prelude
In all that I do.

Where are you now?
Why have you flew
To unknown places,
Strangers you never knew?

Do you, come back, live here!
Remain, here, forever friend.
I will create a safe place for you
And it will be just you and me.

You, you, you!
You, like a box full of Paris in springtime
Blossoms blowing in the gentle breeze,
A spicy dance of can-can at Moulin Rouge,
Or meandering along the banks of the Seine,
And a stroll down the Champs-Elysee
As far as the Arc de Triomphe along the way.

You, a luxuriant lounge on The French Riviera
And traveling in Provence-Alpes-Cote d'Azur.
You are delicious clean air that fills the lungs
When the smell of lavender is everywhere.
Come! Float along the course of the Roia River.
Un titre tu es mon Jardin de délices!
Toi, toi, toi!

Tu es mon seul désir. You are my one desire.

A couple of stars wink at me
Amid the clouds of the night sky.
Amid a cloudy and dark night's sky
I see your glow . . .

Amid the clouds of the night sky
A gentle wind whispers, and it calls to me
"Come live among the stars."
A tempting offer . . .

But I will stand and dream of heavenly things
And dream and dream of other things
Watching you amid the clouds of the night sky
As I wink back and sigh.

Eons and generations
Come and go.  You remained,
Standing in freezing cold,
Through withering heat.
Sunrises and sunsets
Marked the days and nights.
Comets streamed past,
You, looking skyward to witness.
You became a beautiful green meteor
Falling to earth.

Oooo, oooo, the wind has a sudden voice
Ice crystals like trinkets hanging in the trees ******
As the stiff wind blows and mourns, we mourn

Banks of snow are built, torn down, rebuilt
The howl is haunting as it cries in distress, and we cry
New snow atop hard-pack crunches beneath bare feet

We have walked the soles off our moccasined feet,
No water can quench our thirst, for no water is given
We have dried up, blown away, like the husks of corn

Oooo, oooo, the wind has a sudden voice, we do not

Moaning, aching, memory
Exquisitely painful to touch.
Why do I reach for that place?
Cease, hear my command
O, ears open! Tormented mind!
Comfort I seek but do not find
Each time.

The weight of a dragonfly does not break the stem of a flower.

I love words that make you visualize
The intent of what the writer desires.
What the writer sees within the mind
Conveys what I can see in mine.

You said, "I love you."
I hear your echoes even now;

Although our love has fallen.  Down
With the trappings of human sentiment.

Who needs LOVE, anyway?  Not
I.

Love chooses you
She does not care for sensibilities
But sneaks up from behind
And places hands over your eyes
Then leads you with a smile
To where she wills you

the truth is a modest little flower

- be not content with one flower of truth
- had one been sufficient there would have been no more

gather each with all earnest effort
gather, ever seek for more

until every nook and cranny overflows
within your strong mind’s vessels

Try JW dot Org

Have you wondered about the meaning of life?
Is God to blame for our trouble and strife?
Do you have unanswered questions that make you sigh?
Do you ever wonder what happens when you die?

Yes - Life may trouble you
Bad news may trouble you
Questions trouble you as well they might.
If life troubles you - questions trouble you, try JW.org website.

Have you wondered; "Does God really care?"
“Does He listen when we pray - is He there?”
“Will war and suffering ever cease?”
“How can we find inner happiness and peace?”

Yes - Life may trouble you
Crime may trouble you
Questions trouble you as well they might.
If life troubles you - questions trouble you, try JW.org website.

The reasoning is clear - the answers are viable
They always adhere to God's word in the Bible

Yes - Life may trouble you
Doubt may trouble you
Questions trouble you as well they might.
If life troubles you - questions trouble you, try JW.org website.

Life may trouble you
Doubt may trouble you
So try JW.org website.

Try J W dot Org Website Try J W dot Org
Try J W dot Org Website Try J W dot Org
- Brendan Vincent Owens


Have you wondered about the meaning of life?
Is God to blame for our trouble and strife?
Do you have unanswered questions that make you sigh?
Do you ever wonder what happens when you die?

Yes - Life may trouble you
Bad news may trouble you
Questions trouble you as well they might.
If life troubles you - questions trouble you, try JW.org website.

Have you wondered; "Does God really care?"
“Does He listen when we pray - is He there?”
“Will war and suffering ever cease?”
“How can we find inner happiness and peace?”

Yes - Life may trouble you
Crime may trouble you
Questions trouble you as well they might.
If life troubles you - questions trouble you, try JW.org website.

The reasoning is clear - the answers are viable
They always adhere to God's word in the Bible

Yes - Life may trouble you
Doubt may trouble you
Questions trouble you as well they might.
If life troubles you - questions trouble you, try JW.org website.

Life may trouble you
Doubt may trouble you
So try JW.org website.

Try J W dot Org Website Try J W dot Org
Try J W dot Org Website Try J W dot Org
- Brendan Vincent Owens

Tumultuous beauty
Like raging waters
Falling over vast cliffs
Into basins of whirlpools

And billowing monoliths
Of dark clouds rushing past
All within a container
Of your human flesh

Twisted together an intertwined weave
Encircle, enfold, stretch to move in a sinuous manner

Coils support meandering threads, two twined in interlacing part
Interwoven and embracing curls cleave unto themselves

You are part of me

"Oh, Harry!  Harry is that you?"
The old lady calls to the young man passing by.

"I have looked for you everywhere, but could not find you.  
Why are they keeping me here, Harry?"

And when he pats her hand and bids her goodbye,
his heart is breaking;

For he wishes with all his being to have had her same recognition.

Two lives fusing
      as one
Intertwined
“Ieo vos tien foi tenes le moy,”-
“I hold your faith, hold mine.”

Here,
In this womby-tomby

Safety of my coverings
I begin to realize,

I don't want to remain unborn.

Ah.  There is so much uncertainty in life.
Jobs come and go. Kids grow up and leave.
Friendships form and fade,
As we all walk towards the grave.

Yet, you are here, now, and
I can count on your presence tomorrow, also.
When you are here, I know everything is in its right place.
At least at the end of day we will share this space.

My love and I would bask in the sun.
And we would make love out of doors.
We would, under the grape arbor.

Love’s knot loosened, my gossamer bow,
In a sea of light our love voyage would flow.
It would begin and end under the grape arbor.

There were stories about frangipani blossoms
and monsoon rains and teatime and English gardens,
the smell of mandarin oranges being pealed.

These beautiful, poetic reminiscences fill my soul
just as the humidity wraps around me, now,
as frog croaks filling the moist night air.

Looking back we tend to forget . . .

The lament of a maiden
Cried to the night sky
"Sweet lover,
I will pluck your heartstrings
And sing my call out to you
Hear that my heart is true:

May the mist carry
My words of love
Swiftly to you
On its vaporous hue
Causing it to arrive
With the morning dew

As I look out on my morn
My lonely heart is torn
If I could send you my arms
Across this large divide
I would embrace you
To be your guide

What starts as a mere mist
Will soon envelop you with
A thread-woven protective bag
Filled with this song.  So,
You can trace your way back
It is on its way to you

Let our love be the compass
That guides you home to me
Following the many lines
Of our love and life on our map
The lines of which can be seen
By only you and only me

Follow the line leads you straight
Across this distance home to me
Across these vast seas remember
Our life is more than a mist,
More than a mere song
Our love will continue on and on

The union of the sun and moon
Brief embrace, a kiss, departing too soon

A coming together, energy exchanged
Infusing us all, causing eloquent reframes

A phenomenal show eclipsing us all