My brain pirouettes in realistic shadows;
The sunniest of days have passed;
Here am I in a broken body trapped.
Filled with counts, movements, of time tapping
Until it is only me and the dance;
Out of the shadow and into the bright lights.

"Tell me I am beautiful;
I feel the weight of every line,
crease, and wrinkle, just now.

Laying here in your arms
I could believe anything!"

She said.  Silence . . .her heart broke.
Suddenly a soft purring, snoring rose!
She snuggled and they both slept.

Should an army of emotions
Set up a camp against me
My heart will not fear
Though war break out against me
Even then, I will not fear
My confidence is a stronghold
When you are near.

The silence passed between the two
As a mist encircled like a glove,
Fingers reaching for something.  Love?

One cut through the void with few words.
And a weight fell from off their chests like feathers
Floating down and filling the space between;

As these words broke through, "I love you.  
I love you, Dad."

Inspired by Bulletcookie and William J Donovan

Laborers and bees
Swarm in simple ignorance
Dancing in sun-dreams.
The owner's laugh
Among giant oak shades
Is very bitter.  He sniffs,
"A day off, is barely paid."
Striped to their waists,
Glistening in bright rays
They float like lovers in a bath
Wanting nothing but wages.

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.

Blindingly bright lights pin-point;
And then you touch.

Experiencing love for the 1st time;
Throbbing heart constricting.
A lump in the throat
Caught in a dry strangle, one gasp,
Lightheaded.  Breathe!  
Thick, dense air.
Full sensory at capacity;

And you touch, again.
Then we fall and fall and fall.

Conmen see a greedy need in you
Make you feel it’ll be fulfilled
But they’ll take your diamond
Traded for a big chunk of glass
Leaving you feeling you got a deal
If you need a better medicine
He fills your bottle with snake oil
And for just a million down
He’ll sale you Brooklyn Bride

I'll start with this example of the titles of some of my own poems published here.

(One of 2 new possible titles for the new creation, but neither title from a poem already written.)
What It Becomes / What I Become

Sheltered in A Desert
Moths Like Stars
After The Storm

It Had To Be Said
I am Like a Strong Tree
The Halo of Day

Exercise 2:
Sheltered in A Desert
there were Moths Like Stars
across the sky After The Storm.

It Had To Be Said, afterward,
I am Like a Strong Tree,
like The Halo of Day.

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.

You have made mistakes, and
You've let me down in the past.
At times I have been
Disappointed in you deeply.

But you have made heroic efforts
To change and to grow,
To become a better person.
In time I have come to know

That I can finally trust myself.

When I see you again

I'll choke back the years . . .

of fears
of tears
of needing
of wanting
of not having
of not knowing

And you will explain
What actually happened.

An old and frustrated flower-child asks,
"Where did the love go?"
Peace, love, dope . . .

Why just yesterday, it seems
We were romping through beautiful fields
And reading such lovely poetry.

Where did the love go?  I am asking.

There is no malice
Hidden in my words
Truth be told though
- He is not okay

He is living large
Within his own mind
Back to his heyday
- The 1980s

But he is living it again
Where he was 'kinda' on top
- And

Had the public a bit fooled
- Wildly wealthy
Was the phony claim

He recently explained the
"one rough hour?' needed
- He's not healthy

If friends and family really cared
They would get the poor man help.

Inspired by a comment on Sabrina Benaim  

When you realize
What you didn't know,
You are well and truly
On your own.

You fight alone.

Self-awareness is
A lucid torment of
The cruelest part of anxiety,
Mental unrest.

You are not above the truth,

You cannot wrap it up in lies!
Your lizard brain blisters inside
And you will split and peel soon.

It will be soon too late for you to hid
You’ve fooled yourself to your demise
And almost took us down, too, dude.

But your fools will be there, too,
To keep your insane self company
In da prison 4 da criminally insane.

Either my poems will speak for themselves
Or speak for me, no matter, given voice
Let them fall upon eyes, and ears, and hearts.

Once found,
This tensile strength,

Not much can
Ever get me down.

I look to You with
Steel-rod spine,

But gentleness inside all
Will find as I walk with You.

For You hold the stars
Within Your hands

And with an upward toss
Direct them where to go.

The universe sparkles
With Your truth and power

And through Your spirit glows.

I know it is the natural progression of things.  Certain plants only live for a season then die.  Others wither and retreat into a cover of soil until next year.  Some hold on as long as possible only succumbing to a hard freeze.  Although I hate the heat of summer I love the life it brings to the Balcony Garden which is waning already.

Strong my castle walls!
For it has been so long
Since any hand has touched
Her imposing gates.

Please do, cross this mote
Of my desires, I
The cry within my throat.
And must you wonder why?

What is a queen without any hope?

One thing alone could end my love,
When Time has stopped my Heart,

Though you have left me, here alone
To stumble in the dark.

Then, I heard the Raven say,
"Nevermore!" today.

On the dry and empty ground
Covered in stubble brittle and bleached
Nothing exciting could have ever happened
In this barren place.
 
Yet, there, beneath them lay clues all around
Pointing to the ancient just within reach,
By an inquiring mind who goes out to seek.
They were men of that sort on bended knee.
 
The wastes between the Dead Sea
And beyond the Gulf of Aqaba pleaded,
"I am lost, come find me."
So, they unpacked their shovels, brushes & trowels,
At the foot of sandstone cliffs and started to dig.
 
Together with the Bedouins, the group slept on
A ground covered in their robes.  Strewn about lay
Piles of black ****, byproduct of copper smelting
Beckoning.  So, they ate the unleavened bread,
Just as did the freed Israelites who were fleeing Egypt. 
 
But then, of course.  Nothing ever happened here.

This chapter is now closed.
Relegated to the last vestiges,
Foggy scenes through time's mist.
Memories can become happier,

Now faded and worn.
Time's safe place, fuzzy and warm
Is like a sweater that you only pull out
For a season then pack away until next time.

I stare into supple beauty,
Shudder Sweet Man
And worship Luscious Woman.
Hard feather, smooth pleasure,
Arouse heavy morning,
Tremble breast and glisten full bloom.

I took your DNA in;
It lay around my place.
I wondered, "Will I breathe it in?"
Will part of you become part of me?
I longed for that permanence.

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

He was 3; issued a blanket,
It too was part of the property.
As I move into this thought
Africa becomes a coast.
I do not know it. Sandy or rock?
My mind moves into the forest,
My heart, into a village.
A toddler clings to the robe covering
The dark skin of her mother.
“Africa” the word is read,
“Place of birth: Africa”.

A simple concrete step, a stoop; it is just a step, a stoop
Until it is associated with memories of sitting, watching,
                             and waiting.

Watching life as it parades past; neighbors, strangers, cars,
things that are blown about.

All become associated with that well-worn act, repeated with
                           religious devotion,

Of spending time on a simple neighborhood stoop.

Have we gone from the land of the free
to the land of the fools?
I ask the question.

Have we gone from Camelot  
to the land of Scamalot?
Again, I have asked the question.

Have you?

Among the shadows
Of the darkened room
In a reflecting glance
I see an assemblance
Of me
But it is no longer
A youthful me
That I see
I suspend a sense
Of this reality
In order to see me
The inner me
The real me
The encapsulated self

I smell the damp earth.
The scent rises into my nostrils.
Under this pine rain drips down
Dimpling the ground all about me.

Some distant bird flutters up
Making a whirring, whistling sound.
It echoes across the field of thoughts,
Brings me back to my reality.

That truth is sharp and pain-filled.
It stealthily digs under your skin.
You are gone, but life continues.
Tell me it does.  Your answer, "Life,

It is in the scent of earth,
The whirring of the distant bird,
The dimpling of raindrops on soil.
And in each molecule of the universe."

The dairy devil
Has cold hands
Pray it grabs your throat

Across the street
The heliotrope and roses meet.
Entwined they gather sweetly
Lovingly clinging in embrace.
Sigh.  I watch them.  I slow my pace.
If flowers can love as in this case,
Why cannot men of every race?

Different moments throughout our lives,
The passing of time, who we are changing
Throughout the years, evolving, letting go 
Are not unlike the participating self-evolvement
Over the course of living. Yet, disease takes away
These basic anchors of reality, time, and place,
And all the coordinates that we rely on
In every moment of our lives are suddenly lost.

I will look upon your face
And I will love it, Sweet Gentle.
I will love it, soft and tender,
Wrinkle by wrinkle.

We never know where to draw the line.  Do we?
Nor do we know when to expunge the mark.

And, when do we stick a foot into that closing opened door
Or withdraw it to allow its closing?

I say that lines are actually made of dots and dashes.  
Make your mark boldly, underline the stroke.

Grab the handle of the door
And pull it open with all of your might!

I can smell the rain coming
As the Texas heat and humidity
That had me held like plastic wrap
Around my face and body loosens;
And the cooler air sinks down to fold us.
I can breathe, feel exhilarated, want life!
Then the downburst!  Like a cow relieving itself
On a flat rock, large drops scatter, loudly, until
The tin on the roof tinkles a melodious song.
In a Texas summer, we live for days like these.

If a thought is as good as a prayer

Then I pray for you often
Throughout the day.

You are in my heart and mind
In so many ways.

If a thought is as good as a prayer
Then you should be very blessed.

Thoughts of you, dear friend,
Ascend from me to the heavens, themselves.

Thoughts are as good as a prayer, aren't they?

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.

Crow at my window
Cawing, calling:
Come into the richness
Of the forest.

His call is tempting.

Somewhere, I may never have traveled,
Haunts my memory in foggy dreams

I smell the fire in the fireplace burning
I see the cabin door swinging

Outside the snow that had fallen
Lies melting, hardening to ice

Mountain air fills my lungs and exhilarates
With the smell of pine and of juniper and cedar

A distant crow's caw brings me back to reality
And I am suddenly in the snow at the door of a cabin

Somewhere I may never have traveled to

Water, the same color as the sky,
Completely filled the pools of light.

The rays of Sun are want to try
And push to break through the bright.

Yet, languidly our time we bide
Until the pools are full of night.

(Throat-clear)
Um, me-me-me-me
Take that face off
Put it in the drawer
Tucker, you ain't gonna
Need it no more
They done booted you ****
Out the door,
La-tra-la-la-la

Who has agency to guide?
The one with the most likes
Can be used to divide.

Wealth makes you elite
Favoring blind submission.
Your charisma is highly valued.

Now we live underneath
A flinty harsh heavy-handedness.
Ram your authoritarianism

Somewhere else.
Concentration of only your power
Is called a cult, a regime.

Constitutionally respond to the people.

Into mellow fields, all manner of beings go.
The bird to gather bug or seed,
The workers with their hoes;
And, maidens who gather stands of wheat
In dresses that are blown.

To smell the lilacs in first morning light
Dew descending and shaking free from the tree
Splashing sweet infusions and splattering on me.

Even the fog rising is perfumed.
Fists full, I make my way back inside to find a vase.
A home perfumed by wafts of flowers is a heavenly abode.

It is a beautiful notion, but lilacs don't actually grow here.

You wild thing,
You spread your wings,
As you flutteringly fly away

Sunlight strikes your feathers.
And in such lovely weather
You shine like day.

I hear the little pitter-patter of raindrops
And listen for the sound of ice as it falls.
Raindrops manifested as ice crystals
With its delicate but distinctive sound
As the tiny bits ****** softly down
Like seeds scattered on the ground.

They glisten like slivered splinters of glass
Amid the fallen autumn leaves on grass
And magnify the beauty with shards of color
Glinting through accumulating gathered ice.
A foundation for a Crystal Palace in miniature
The beauty captivates within a time capsule

Of only one wintery day.

Bright tambourine shaker, where are you?
Shake over me, shake.  Fill this desert!

Sift the sands around my lonely oasis.
Dig up all its well-hidden treasures.

Come into me unfurled, unfettered.
Find the delights, measure by measure.

Searching hands seek to interlace
As vines, among a secret grove, this garden.

The arms of a mighty cedar, you 
Are still strong, though grown old.

Never mind that.  Come home.
Dwell here and stay forever. O, stay!

My nomad, become the vine that wraps me
By the heat of day and cold of night, stay.

Become my incidental canopy of full cover 
For your every whim and unspent pleasure.

I make the music, give the bursting springs
Within this isolated place of treasures.

She is new mown grass,
A butterfly’s gentle caress
On a blushing rose bud.

She is the scent of fresh pine
Wafting through warmer climes,
As refreshing as morning dew.

She is like the yellow-green shaft,
Blades of picked sweet grass
Held within one’s teeth.

Sweeter than a baby's breath,
She is the sparkle in lovers’ eyes,
The essence of every beautiful song.