The feeling you have
When you win the lottery
without buying a ticket

a smile in your heart
for no reason
or a reason so small
yet a feeling so sweet
Like rainbows dancing
On a snowy night
Amidst sparkling stars

Gratitude is here
Feel her gentle touch

Smile into the sweetness
live in the openness
bloom in the ray
of simple happiness
Amy 14h
In barren fields I stand;
The wind blows through my heart.
Upon this desolate land,
I've cherished from the start.

And tiny specks of light;
They flicker through this field.
As they fade into the night,
All that's broken becomes healed.

So as my soul is calmed;
And all that's fragile becomes new.
I revel in the overlooked;
The little things that grew...
You never realize how lucky you are
Till you've tasted heaven and its stars.
That's what you taste to me.
Aa Harvey 23h

For a little bit of happiness,
I get a whole lot of depression.
Maybe if I accepted the sadness,
I could live a normal life, no question;
But the little bit of joy I get when I see her smile,
Leaves me to believe that life is, worthwhile.

It’s the tiniest bit of good,
And in return 3 days of bad;
But for just a little bit of time,
I truly am not sad.
For just a portion of a day,
I can smile again.
Just for a little bit of happiness…
The pain is just a shame.

(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
A single page of her
fills her lover's world
ardent appetite to be cradled like the  
adoration of a mortal unexceptional goddess
who sometimes has high-heeled shoes of clay
leaves her and her lover to waver among
joys shared blissfully diffused by tears shed quietly
A single page of her is written
with the fundamental spirit of a lust for love
an ambition to live loves dream
which is center to every man and womans heart
A single page of her is provender for the soul
with a common language of immortal romantic notions

A single page of her
just a human being
with another human being
just an exceptional love within an uncomplicated heart
softly written open to lights of loving warmth

A single word of her
fills the canvas with brilliant colors
takes on the shapes of this feverish love affair
takes on the hue's of these hearts at ease
that wrestle each other naked souls
then cleave to each other with a dire thirst
A single word of her statuesque illustration
histories and futures softly spoken in the animated night
expressions of this average celestial throne
this world of exceptional average simple beauties
A single word of hers
that i have never actually heard
but knowing its there unspoken in her eyes
just a human being

A single picture of her
fills a poet's hands with rich verse
words laden with potent essence within their expression
as wild as the wind in the deepest part of the rain
as enriched as breathing exaltation and splendor
her photograph pasted to the mirror's edge
as if she were a reflection of dreams
as if perfection had a name
A single picture of her
embroidered by a light that shines
only from some souls
a warmth that greets every passing stranger
an intensity that verges on fire

A single moment of her time
leaves impressions upon you that will breathe within you
growing in the remembrance
like roses upon the vine
interwoven and lovely in the warm light
just a human being
but she will always be
just Kristen

© 2018 mark john junor all rights reserved
Surprised you must be
When you walk in the room
And see a body hanging from the ceiling

Grotesque with decay
An odor that betrays
It has hung there for possibly a century

A heavy rain settled
Around the building
So that it was obscured by mist

And sirens soon blare to signal the arrival
Of policemen who will perform their morbid ritual
A coroner ready to investigate the very thing mankind fears

The death of Mr. Youth was unexpected, quite sudden indeed
So why did it take so long to realize he was missing?
He had faded so much from everydayness that no one had noticed

"Murdered by whom?"
Was the thought on the people's minds
As they mourned the loss of an old friend

It was obviously growing up some contend
It was clearly adult influence others claim
And still more jeered and yelled hypotheses just as lame

It was not a murder as people had assumed
It was suicide plain as day
And it was not an act in some simple play

It was simply the natural way of things
That all that is bright and lovely must die down
As we get older and wiser and boringer

Yet fragile we are inside
That characteristic has never changed
For we all want fun and happiness

So sometimes we let our youth die
Neglecting it, wasting it for all those years
While we pity ourselves and wallow in our own tears

So maybe it is a murder
Maybe we are the killers
And we will soon receive our comeuppance
For Joy was not created to be a martyr
flowers grow in the holes
of her ever more romantic dreamin's
she fills in the picture with pastel hero's
their colors fade then fire as her passions run
vivid at a moment's of his heartfelt embrace
faded as his wicked smile fails to seduce
she is drawn to the artistic brief time in hand
fascinated by the workings of the mysterious mind
how create rainbows from the dusty nuance expressed
create love from an abundance of words delicately devoted
cede to the child hand within us
the joy and discovery
making gentle rain from the hard snow
of making yesterdays into an epiphany of beauty lost
how to be the source and author of true loves song

while she is taming the mare
he trims the overgrowth
while she entertains with tea and crumpets
he is chopping the wood
while she dances within loves light
he chips away at the stone hearth
these are no lovers
just strangers embraced

her inner field of flowers
a swath of rose red bordered by summer greens
ever an insurrection against winters hand
saving every sprout and budding leaf
single-handedly stemmed the tide
as Autumn steals away with all of the summers life
he is her part-time hero
obsessed with his grand gesture
dismissive of the intangible cold touch
she paints him in pastel
but his is a life of watercolor running in the rain
a minister of hammers
the only spark within is that
of the violence of the iron wrought anvil
no heartstring to gather up
to weave a life from

she will mourn his leaving
caught up in the divinity
always found in yesterday's sorrows
bound in the confines of her heart
he will always be the part-time hero
he will never leave
in the loss of yesterday's sorrows
How can you say that the world is plain,
When waterfalls fall with the fall of the rain,
And puddles are gleaming like brand-new veneer?
Don't you know there is magic here?

I look at the flowers and expect to see Fae,
Yawning and stretching at dawn of the day,
Or harvesting dewdrops which fall in the night,
Flitting and flying from left to the right.

Have you walked through the forest and breathed in the air?
Have you laughed as the chipmunks ran fast from the hare?
Have you noticed how leaves turn the golden light green?
Have you seen all there is in the woods to be seen?

Oh Friend, have you stretched out your hands to the sun?
Have you seen the sky change since the day has begun?
Will you lift up your eyes and be wrapped in the dark,
And watch as the moon and the stars make their mark?

Do you really not know there is magic here,
While the puddles are gleaming like brand-new veneer,
And the waterfalls fall with the fall of the rain?
How can you say that the world is plain?
Walking into
A ray of sunshine
After so much

A new wave
Of adventures
And joy

The sunlight
Warming my face
Bringing me

I will get better
For everyone
But most of all
For me
Trying to get better a little bit every single day.
Next page