Do I dance through your head like an ancient melody, so distinct and historic, yet repeated traditionally? Do I sing through your ears like a blue bird's pretty song, so constant in the morning, promising from dusk to dawn? Do I twinkle in your eyes like a midnight moon's glimmer, so steadily, heavenly bright, reflecting like a lakeside's shimmer? Do I do all of these things like there is no other routine? It's funny how even distance can't halt a fond heart's memory.
Haven't written in a while. It feels good to write a few words again.
It's like you see beyond the glimmer in my eyes It's like you're able to look right through my faulty smile It's like you see right past the parts of a different time It's like you gaze into the depths and see two of a kind
It's like I seem to be to you as clear as the sky Whenever you can't see a ******* cloud on the horizon, why? You see the good intentions and you see the wicked ways The water on the surface and the Devils own blaze!
I'm the master of my fate, I am not the beast in me! I will not succumb, not be numb, to your ******* greed! I will stay afloat, in the tides of misery! I will make my way, and you will not **** me!
The jester we are one, the good and bad combined! We live to entertain, but it's myself that I provide! Laughing in despair, head lowered in pride A contradictory conflict, and you see it in my eyes...
It's like you see beyond, the glimmer in my eyes It's like you're able to look right through my faulty smile It's like you see right past the mask behind which we will hide It's like you gaze into the depths and see our dead divide...
again the moon perched atop a darkened plank of cloud floating in iridescent river of sky
again the moon pregnant with the sun’s light round full lake of fervor
again the moon opalescent in the stars’ glimmer silver frosted ocean of ecstasy
A rerun of a poem from last April - though renamed.
April’s Full Moon, the Full Pink Moon, heralds the appearance of the “moss pink,” or wild ground phlox—one of the first spring flowers. It is also known as the Sprouting Grass Moon, the Egg Moon, and the Fish Moon. These names were not invented by The Old Farmer’s Almanac. They were used by early Colonial Americans—who learned the names from the local Native Americans; time was not recorded by using the months of the Julian or Gregorian calendar. Many tribes kept track of time by observing the seasons and lunar months, although there was much variability. The name itself usually described some activity that occurred during that time in their location.