Nature's paint has touched some leaves
Its magnum opus
Many joyful vibes
Nature's great preparation
For the cold white death
Joyful, not afraid
Faith, hope for resurrection
New life springs from death
Left an Easter Egg
Behind in all his
Works just so that when
You found out
What it was
You would have
All your doubts
Washed down the
Bath tub drain
Want me to tell you
Where the Easter Egg
In the Lion, the Witch
"I never thought I would ever escape
At times, I wanted to die
Feared that it all was just a little too late
For then, I wouldn't survive
I let you in and let go of the hate
My heart recovered now, I
Owe you a debt that I can never repay
I still believe 'cause you're mine"
I beheld the pale rose
Ethereal, yet cold.
Meant for summer
But betrayed by the winds of winter
it laid claim to her joy
And by it rage her head bowed low
As rain, tears became a torrent, cascading and pulling at her soul
Her heart was scattered
Like petals in the breeze
As shards they are sought and collected by the lowly
Guarded in vessels of hope
Awaiting the hearts spring that it may bloom anew
For spring is here and winter has passed
The tears have made her strong
In the warmth of the sun she will raise her eyes again
The laughter of her kin will call as a new morning
For where there is life, there is hope
And the chill she will feel no more
The moon light will dance upon her skin
No longer cold, but lovely
Ever the pale rose
i want you next to me,
to feel your soul intertwined
to feel you once again
would be a dream come true
you are the one thing
that meant anything to me
you held me together,
and now you're gone
wish i could bring you back
another poem for my dearly departed gramma.
01/11/1945 - 10/22/2017
you are missed more than you know
The book that I was raised on
said we killed You today.
That it took three days
and You rose again.
I believed it.
I still do.
But it says You're always with us.
I'm starting to wonder
There is a night to reflect on
as there is a day to celebrate it:
it is love that is pain that is
the unspeakable joy of the heart
and here in this world cruel of men,
it is to love that is to suffer;
And so when you love
with all your heart
with all your soul,
with all your mind
with all your strength,
so is the suffering
sweeter the water
deeper the well,
dug into the earth
where walked the prophets;
But we can die a hundred times
on the cross,
for there is no love
that does not heal death, and
blessed is this sky under which
such a thing as love
Risen, we live, when in suffering
we die, loving
such is the gospel of love
we contemplate tonight.
an Easter poem - its traditional for me, some of my meaningfully deepest poems are written at this time of the year...
The reference is to Mark: 12:28-31, https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Mark+12%3A28-31&version=KJV
rose gardens cry the nightly shades,
purple mist covered in grace,
candlelight glimmer undressed by the flood of light,
the forehead of deities clashing on the edge,
smudges of sparkles drunk in uncertain movements,
jam rose kissed in honey bees,
swing of suffocating dreams.
(My book will be out soon, in the meantime you can purchase my first book 'The Allure Of Time' from amazon.)
Also, I will appreciate it if you follow me and support me. I hope you get inspired by my words.
Evening and morning, a day:
The third night, before t'was day,
He rose, before the sun rose.
The last night, was forty days.
Today is the third day, till
Ev'ning comes, and today ends.
He'll return in the morning.
The Soul ages not, agelessly it grows
In sleep each night, to realms unknown it goes.
In dreams, lands immortals repose, hinted.
Refreshed, renewed and rejuvenated,
The Soul returns and we're resurrected.