Ambitious as love may be,
integrity has lost sanctity.
As silver train follows slug,
bride or groom or just garden ****?

Not easy to tell, these rapid days.
In any case, I'm not amazed.
For in a place of paradise,
would not all exist, is my surmise.

Yet, within that Eden a serpent lied,
but question still, who let it inside?
Eve forever blamed, an original sin,
much too played out, over and over again.

Find new fault within this thought,
for has not all men bought his wrought?
How original can it be,
when been repeated sea to sea?
Let not these troubles worry thee,
for only furthers society's anxiety.

Sara L Russell, 27th Oct 2015, 00:50am*

I send you out into the world my dear ones.
Here is light and shade; and I see that it is good.
Here are the waters of life poured forth in shimmering splendour
all for your delight and to nurture your thirst;
behold, here is a paradise of sunlight scattering
diamonds of fire on the ocean,
sunlight filtering through the leaves of tall palms and little olive trees
in splinters of dappled emerald light and shade;
here are dazzling white sands and shady mangroves
it is all for you, for I love you, my children;
you belong to me
and to all of the earth.

I send you out, dear ones, amid the steamy jungles,
out to swim free in the dancing liquid light of rivers and streams,
I set you free in a garden of plenty.
Here are fountains and waterfalls overhung with intoxicating
  swags of white jasmine and scarlet hibiscus
entwining with vines heavy with ripened grapes.
Flamingoes and bright parakeets fly out of the
greenery before you, in a flurry of rainbow fire.
Rejoice in this life I give you
and take care of this beautiful domain.
Keep it safe; make it last
and you in turn will last;
safe in an infinity of peace.

I send you out into the world my treasured ones,
free to walk naked, resplendent in the satin of your skin;
needing to conceal nothing from the sun's nurturing rays
or the eyes of beasts, or each other's loving gaze.
Behold, you are pure and untainted with shame;
you have the freedom of earth's bountiful beauty
and you are lovely as the flowers that carpet the forest floor.
Taste freely of the berries and the sweet delight of earth's nectar,
Let the pollen of the lotus bring you dreams of deep serenity.
Only touch not the fruit of the tree by the dark
fountain sealed. The Tree of Knowledge
is mine to know and yours only
to behold in silent wonder.
Mark this well, my children,
for it is my only rule.

A man and a woman in an exotic garden
Plucking mellow fruits and musky flowers,
In the crystal clear waterfall of infinity
Hand in hand they are taking shower.

At night he weaves blue dreams in his eyes
She wears crimson shyness on her cheeks,
While innocence and experience starts to play
The most secretive game of hide and seek.

They don't know how to ignite fire of desire
Though firewood of passion is surely ready,
He has the magnetism of a majestic lion
Her voice is sweet like nightingale's melody.

Their togetherness is unaware of any science
Only throbbing heart is filled with chemistry,
Both of them always feel curious to discover
The tree of knowledge's hidden mystery.

Soon Satan with the forbidden fruit appears
With joy she makes a glass of delicious juice,
They drink and desire burns to let us know
That the apple is merely just a silly excuse.

This a "plain simple summer weekend,"
A vastness of terrain awaits us here,
Clean skies and cool breezes send
An unending limitless blue so clear,

This is it, the mountain spring and pine,
One lost lover, through thick and thin over
The years and never forget this moment,
The land only belonging to the great mother.

Like a forbidden island of delights it awaits,
Valley and fields and palm trees, streams,
Into hidden forests and meadows, our new beginning,
Forever...! Through all the years light now dimming,

But it's just the same, light and dark...everything disposable
Accept this image I have of you holding onto me, the spark,
It seems now we are all this pose-able, like some kids toys,
Not interested to take a walk past the rush, even if it's a safe park.

Love now lost, why? Just to be cast on the rocks of tomorrow,
It does seem that death started with something of sorrow,
It does seem everyone is addicted to the next big craze,
Save your pretty penny for the rainy day, sunless haze.

It's all about you, even when it's really about me, I'll make
Everything change, I promise, give this art a chance it makes
Perfect sense if you care to pretend my pointlessness matters,
If I sat there and served everyone, a security guard, car salesman,
I would matter, but no, I'm worthless because I hate those things
I would rather  die than carry on being a waste for not liking
These %#@#$@ jobs that they keep shoving in my face!

As I glance at the stop sign one last time,

*BASH...the cars tires still spinning...

I have observed brightly lit stores...
window displays welcome
with wide open arms.
Kaleidoscope of colours,
dancing to catchy music...
adding on to the allure and charm.

Droves of shoppers have identified this
as their slice of heaven.
Flagging retail therapy
and finding their
pocket of Eden.

I have observed some laying down.
Relaxing...
unwinding...
On patches of grass.
They stare at the sky
with much adoration,
as wispy clouds float on by.

These skygazers have chosen this
to be their little slice of heaven.
With the ground on their backs,
grass between their toes
and azure as their witness...
this is their pocket of Eden.

I have observed a couple of lovebirds,
seated at a café...
immersed deeply in conversation.
In their own private universe,
their own little bubble.
Employing hugs and frequent pecks as punctuation.

There's nowhere else they'd rather be.
From their eyes I know,
they've found their unique slice of heaven.
In each other
they've found their pocket of Eden.

I have observed myself...
I thought myself to be lost
for the longest time.
Seeking a place
for the voice in my head
that only spoke in rhyme.

All is not lost when
I finally found that place.
My little slice of heaven.
For almost a year ago today
I decided on Hello Poetry
as my pocket of Eden.

We've heard from
Abraham, Jesus,
Mohammad and Selassie;
God!
If we'd heard a humble apology
For the pre-emptive strike
In Eden, way back then,
It would have saved us all
A lot of grief.

New poems are written from old tragedies.
Oh I appreciate the selfishness of poets,
stealing death to pocket life.
Life for their sons and daughters
Post secondary tuition.
Life for retirement.
Life for life's own sake.
Let's turn on the TVs and hope
For another war.
Government storms countries for oil,
Parading rifles and bombs to the
Children without education
And the bearded spinners who can't
Afford a break.
Poets claim to be romantics and meditate on dreams of peaceful Eden.
But what poets in recent times have written in yellow ink?
Cynic and Poetry both have a simple
Y.
Y
  Y
     Y?