Radiant, /
Resplendent, /
Full, /
He is my aegis, /
My bulwark, /
My protection, my fortress. /

When darkness falls /
As I walk /
Beneath the starless night sky /
My heart shines; /
Is /
My guide. /

He fulminates; /
Is radiant /
His love is luminous, /
Astral, /
Burgeoning & quenching /
My every desire. /

Quenching my heartbeat /
With an unmatched /
Synchronicity; /
Bestilled, unmoving /
In His presence. Naturalistic, inheld /
Beauty, —timeless. /

I’m here /
In this time, this space, this place. /
Reverberating /
Upon the wavelength of The Divine. /
Oh, I’m resonating sky high, /
Sky high. /

(—Se’ lah)

spring's color palette
paints a resplendent canvas
of floral glories

raindrops faintly laughing as they prance
                                                along the leaves
watercress dancing gently twirling slowly
                                                          in the creek
a deer’s neck softly brushing like a whisper
                                                           against a tree
the sun is rising in the forest with hushed tones
                                                             of red on green
a brusk barista whose soul is wounded wants to cry
                                                               but bravely greets
the first blush of sweet dawn's morning ignites resplendent
                                                     ­                             things unseen
                                 

©2016janetaylor

15 | 31 Poems for August

I’m slowly progressing but progressing nonetheless.
The worst thing I could do is give up on myself.
The worst thing I did this week was give up on myself.
Sometimes dreams delayed feel like dreams denied.
If you asked how I’m holding up and I responded by saying “I’m okay” then chances are I probably just lied.
Everyone’s caught up in their own world, if you don’t see me tomorrow then know that I tried.
I’m sorry I don’t want to bother or burden anyone with my problems.
I know you’ve never seen me cry but I can no longer hide all that I’m feeling inside.
Some people suffer in silence because of self-importance and a little bit of pride.
But that’s not me, I put my heart on paper and I let it all bleed.
But lately I’ve come to realise that not everyone likes to read.
So I ask myself, who am I writing all these resplendent poems to?

With a resplendent Eastern bride,
Like a houri at my side,