The gypsy snow clouds are dressing
The Starry night Van gogh midnight sky
As Moonblessed waves cruise
To Sweet Caress of luminous shores
the Sunflowers and roses
Heads and hips
are in the gypsy petalled clouds
While their sighs
Are in the fine wine vineyards
Of our love

And her Exotic beauty is strewn
With the modest honey of the Golden
Rose moon a cool Spring month
before the Summers Sultry June

A Spring firefly and a Summer rose
Is the panarama view of her exquisite beauty modest as any iris lounging
Sweet upon a moonlit Heavenly shore,
An exotic garden of heavenly
and earthy delights
A woman who is naturally
sweet to adore
When so much of the rains
Melodies and sonnets sweet labor
Seems increduously wasted
Her enchanting charms are a keeper
While more or less we are great sleepers
In a procession of sweet sorrows
And sweet bliss

She could be the modest belle of exotic splendor in any Summer
and evening parade
or shimmering ball
A Compassionate sway with a unique
Kind beauty to Love forever a day,
Beyond the rose kiss of a gaze
And the blue that both weeps and soothes
With equal depths and caresses
She can cry
and make ones gregarious love sigh
She can laugh and make candles cry,
All in the same span,
Like nightingale wings
Caresses vineyard breezes,

Shes a pretty pretty kind of wonderful,
Sweet Penelope with Compassionate
Exotic sways,
Within and Without
And
The Moon is all
golden rose splendors
of
Sweet Loving rays
To be with her
sweetly loved and cherished

Reynaldo Casison

Labor pain
I write this through a haze
Going in and out remembering grey days

I woke up from a dream
Where I had to fend from three
They didn’t even know me
I was only 13

Labor pain
I’ve moved past the blame
But how can make sure
You’re Journey doesn’t go the same?

I wanna protect you from  the world
But the world taught me
It is what you make it
When I was only 15

Labor pain
This is my labor pain
I’ve cut the chord
So you won’t have to feel my shame

Labor pain
This is my own labor pain
It’s not yours
I’m doing the best I can
To make sure your playground is free rein

Everybody wants me to be
The queen Penelope
Of this palace

When I'm really
An up roaring *****
Holding a chalice

Not knowing
What I'm really like
Keeping it stuffed down
Really bites

Her bookshelf to the brim and bursting
With pages worn, and well
Remembered for the virtues
Lost
And husbands in the war

Fallen woman--fall, and women
Harvests sown and reaped
Moon of full, of wax, of
Wane
Her heart of Shadow's seed

Hand of diamond and of band
Ashes, ashes, dust
A love once lived and now, one
Lost
The pages' faces face us
And sages burn, away

When Penelope bid αντίο her dearest Odysseus
Did she shed a tear for her heart left alone
Or sit alone in the room where she would await his return
And knit quietly
The bemused bride of a nation grieving,
Groaning from the pains of war?