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many a december twenty forth gone by,
   whence wisp of carolers ghosts hauntingly adorn
remembrance of sum...
   er things passed along tummy
   from ma late ma alm

   compunction eruption viz:
fruition, gumption interruption
   sans redemption how became re: born
whereby this pop -
   bleary eye lids ready to droop

   with his tired bones snapping
   and popping like jimmy crack corn
an immediate need to succumb to sleep
   found me transfixed how blessings did a dorn
mine attention riveted at shrouded foghorn
echoing...choing...hoing

   never knowing hands of time didst flap
matthew scott harris,
   who yawned avast cingular gap
countless decades swallowed un hap
pulley lost soul within early
   twenty something years

   devoid of inner GPS to help map
and guide this stricken n fore lorn future pap
though the hour
   (at time this got written) nsync kin rap
pa head lee well nigh

   closing in on six in the morn
   way before synapses snap
crackle and pop,
   whereby the sage within mine psyche

   waving a finger - tsk tsk - with mild scorn
for forgoing to bed, yet...
   a powerful tsunami like force arose up
   when viewing the account of how tara - blank -
   became rent asunder and torn
from an terrible accident of fate -
   though a miraculous recovery now worn.

now fast forward to recent past
receding extremely fast
as if powered by remnant cosmic blast
resulting in avast

blurred montage flickr ring
   exercise regimen of running plus lifting weights -
   perhaps so many reps of a curl
finds me applauding, huzzahing,
   and praising daughter's efforts...so you go girl

with all inner strength pell mell into fitness:
   disciplining molding, sculpting- yar body hurl
   testing your limits to the max
   whether across busy urban streets or...
   where landscape offers open space with pearl
jam skies - in outlying less populated tracts -
   giving freedom to dance n twirl.

ye r so lucky tubby alive
cuz immediate family, friends, relatives
   and now...this strange papa gives u high five
without asking anything in return -
   since inspiration courses thru me

   inducing thyself to strive
and/ or if when fate decrees,
   thee will make an awesome counterpart
   who this older papa bloke would envy
   as ye possess inxs of strength to re:vive.
----------------------------------
blessing for sound health

upon waking every morning I offer
silent benediction for the ability
to revel with full faculty of this aging body
still going strong where ability sans,

enjoying the simple pleasures
available thru ****** senses
plus cavorting, flirting,
identifying simple pleasures
in my nonsensical mien "inner child"

Woolworth more than money can buy
yet of course if I did happen
to be a lucky lottery winner
could definitely relief anxiety and allow
me to breathe easy yet,
never do justice pitted against robust
body, mind and spirit triage.
E A Spain Feb 2018
They say the soul can be seen through the eyes.
And maybe each soul is reflected with the stars in the sky.
When my gaze met yours for the first time,
The moment felt so significant to me, like it was meant as a sign.

On that day when Eve came to life,
Adam’s eyes laid upon her and knew she must be his wife.
Their eyes met and their hearts were filled with light.
This must be what they mean by love at first sight.

You are my Adam and I am your Eve.
Naturally we grew acquainted and rapidly began to cleave.
So much so that our love felt all too familiar,
As if we had loved on another plane- something magnificent to consider.

Star-crossed lovers as we meet again,
Somehow I knew we would be more than friends.
God hand-crafted our paths to meet,
And laid us in this garden with fruits ever so sweet.

I wash your back and you’ll wash mine.
You showed me around the Eden and I’ve lost all sense of time.
We partake of the veggies and fruits to their rind,
And we glow in the light because we are divine.

You are my Adam and I - your Eve,
Showing me around so I know truth from make believe.
And God beams down on us from things seen and unseen.
And He urges us to inherit the land like real kings and queens.

In our Eden I’d like to stay,
And spread our love because it was meant this way.
From your rib and God’s hand in clay-
Our love was manifest since that very day.
Written on 2/14/18 for Cody <3 Happy Valentine's Day.
c Jan 2018
Sometimes I want to be held and whispered “beautiful” promises to but
Other times I need no excuses to run streets
caked head to high-heel in low-cut, skin-tight, green-light layers
Each curvature unapologetically weaved
into some savior’s careful bow
These curves were never hers to call home
They dwell under the thumb of some street man or
That sweet man you once called your own, but
Before he strived to own you
Like a toothbrush or a window
These things don't come so easy
For the one they call Eve
Or no, how did it go?
Something about an apple or a tree or
A woman free to live freely without a he
Though she’s meant to bare the root of all being
We
Pinned the scheme
On her

--
c
Lucius Furius Jan 2018
Adam and Eve

Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her,
Alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams
And our desires. Although she strews the leaves
Of sure obliteration on our paths, ...
--from Wallace Stevens' "Sunday Morning"

In Eden fair did Adam and Eve
live in perfect harmony.

"No plant or animal devoureth we,
only ripe fruit as falls from the tree."

By bright-green lily-pads in sphagnum bogs
the herons waded gracefully,
bullfrogs croaked their deep, clear calls;
bluebells, delicate yellow buttercups
were rampant; larks sang in the mulberries.

"No pain or hunger knew we there,
only the sameness of Eden fair."

Even the bounty, the beauty, the civility,
the rich perfection, stretching out like the wall
of the great oval garden, day after day,
year after year to eternity,
grew tiresome.

"No shame in our nakedness knew we ...
nor lust, nor desire, nor carnality."

It's the exogamous, the unfamiliar,
which stirs in us the deepest passion,
the basso continuo of mortality
which gives to desire its piquancy
--of which they knew nothing in deathless Eden.

"We wanted to look outside the wall.
We didn't mean from God's grace to fall."

Their lack of control, their disrespect
invited tragedy....
But to deny what one feels,
to deny what one is
is to risk even greater calamity....

"God expelled us from the Garden.
Now we'll know death and all that's human."

Discord ... despair.... Are you better off?
Coaxing grain from the cracked, parched earth?
Maybe you paid too much for your freedom?...
Maybe you wish you were back in the Garden?...

"There be good inside the Garden;
there be good outside....
There is no perfect Eden."
Hear Jerry/Lucius read this poem (at https://humanist-art.org/old-site/audio/SoF_095_adam_and_eve.MP3 ).    This poem is part of the Scraps of Faith collection of poems ( humanist-art.org/audio/SoF_095_adam_and_eve.MP3 ).
Andreas Simic Jan 2018
Forbidden Foolishness
They were prisoners
not of walls but of words
words of threats and alienation
walls none the less

But destiny would intervene
a chance encounter at a shop
eyes meeting in a fateful dance
unspoken thoughts exchanged

Notes were passed
through clandestine means
hidden from watchful eyes
little by little trysts ensued

At first with conversation
then, that kiss
the one that opened the prison gates
to a world unknown

Of freedom of the heart
hands began to meander
exploring the inner reaches
of parts unknown

He climbing past mountains of doubt
she guiding his hands
to her Garden of Eden
both searching in the shadow of darkness

Like unleashed primal beasts
theirs was a passion in a fertile land
breath taking and breathless
the planting of seeds

Would soon bear fruit
the chains that once held them
now kept them close
the escape complete

Andreas Simic©
On Thursday evening
I pray near a Grave in Kashmir
Incense sticks
And candles
Lit in bundles
Aroma makes me feel
As I kneel

This is land of my forefathers
Where they rest
I too look for a place nearest
I belong to these graves
Here my soul craves
To sleep till eternity
In the Eden of divinity
What else I Should ask
That has more dignity
~
Mirza Sharafat
Mirza Sharafat visits an ancestral graveyard  at Zadibal in Srinagar. On every Thursday evening Shiitte Muslims light candles and incense sticks on graves. This aura relieves poet and he feels his belongingness to graves where his forefathers rest. He looks for a place nearest where his soul craves to sleep for eternity.
Emily Miller Dec 2017
Cracked lips,
starving for just a drop,
running my tongue over them,
hoping that you'll grace me with a few dark clouds,
a rain shower,
no matter how brief.
The crackling lightning and thunder
would be a welcome consequence
to the desperate vying for your attention.
I drag my anguished limbs across the expanse of your sand and clay floor,
wavering between a hope for an end,
and a hope that if I keep going
and prove myself,
that you'll put me out of my misery yourself.
Your sun beats down on me with a hot weight
that I've grown used to.
In the distance,
visions of lush, green-dusted mountains dance,
but I learned long ago that they remain at the same distance,
no matter how far I walk.
I've had fantasies of shimmering lakes
and Edens full of colorful blossoms and succulent fruits,
but despite my hunger,
despite my thirst,
and despite the aches that burden my body,
the most beautiful delusion I've succumbed to,
is one of you,
appearing before me,
and holding out your arms in that perfect, sweet embrace,
knowing that it would relieve my every ailment.
Kume Nov 2017
These heavenly lands,
Where the rain washes away fears,
And leaves the courage that sunset brings.
Where hopes marry belief, and trees are forever green.
Where the shadows come alive, and silhouettes breathe.

Where art is more than expression,
and dreams colour the soul.
Where broken spirits find redemption,
And all pieces are made whole.
Maria Etre Oct 2017
The Garden of Eden
could not match
her beauty
so it blended with it
and merged
her holiness
with
the fruit
of sin to
inject black
and white
in the world
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