The smells of frankincense and myrrh made holy the air...
As white flames with smoke veiled the deity...
The one priest with folded hands and bowed head...
Offered his obeisance to the one he had always thought of as his own... his one Lord God!
Far away in an unknown land...
Another man was counting the beads of his rosary...
Singing hymns in praise of the One...
His protector and nourisher... His one Almighty God!
Yet when night took over the day...And the two men prepared for slumber...
The universal One sang the same cosmic lullaby:
"My children under one roof...!"
We may belong to diverse nationalities and cultures... worship the One in various forms... And yet we stand United under one roof, under the equal eyes of that One universal intelligence! Thank you so much for reading this and for all your love and support! ❤❤
the last star i saw is gone from me:
clouds block the rest of the universe.
the fields around are my memories:
tasteless stills lacking in difference.
the songs in my mind call out for ghosts:
invisible loves. ***** dishes.
and yet some gods call me back inside,
asking for words to paint their prayers.
My roof is so empty now, so forlorn
Though the game, you inspired, still goes on
Raindrops are tears of my window’s pain, they mourn
Through the night, again, I am alone.
I took a crooked branch sawn by my own hand
Of all hereabouts it’s the strangest wood
Made a cross and stabbed that sad hour glass sand
So the outlines of your face mark your grace, as it should.
I’m still working through this quiet grief
Quite thinking on your grave to daily add a feather
My missing you certainly can’t be brief
Not at all dependent upon the weather
Like you, though feline through and through
You’d leap up every night, after roaming on and on
To give your plaintive “Meeeeow!” (Oh I So miss you)
My “Who IS it?!?” is forever gone.
Acceptance poem written for my beloved Kittikins, my Who IS it?!? 5/20/20
probably the prettiest you've ever seen
from your 72-inch flatscreen;
if walls could talk, I hear you'd be in a pretty tight spot
but I'd rather not
shoot my shot with your skeleton crew,
because I've got a little angel, she just fell to earth too soon;
her halo choked her in her mother's womb, so she knows
probably the prettiest you've ever seen
windows painted lavender and walls bathed in evergreen;
peach-round face & woodsmoke eyes,
I want to comfort her with soft-spilled lies
but she already knows the horrid truth,
so I'll take her to a dim-lit roof
and talk about the moon.
A girl cries out in the night
A mother rushes to hold her in her arms.
The older sister in the same room stays silent.
She watches her mother coo the little baby to sleep
She waits for her to leave before getting up once more.
She looks out the window, the sky covered in smog.
"I want to see the stars."
She opened the window and climbed to the ledge.
She was six years old.
Sitting there and breathing, the little girl watched the smog
for signs of the little white sparkles
stuck in the sky.
The baby started crying again.
Her mother came to comfort her.
She didn't notice the girl's empty bed
Only the window. She shut it, locked it tight.
The little girl wasn't scared.
She brought herself standing and looked down below.
The window flew open too late.
the friendly Atlantic ocean
a lotion that never fully rubs in
like a leaky roof
honey on toast
I really want to shout out your name on the roof top
Trying to tell you how I miss you so bad
I even don't know in which part of the world you are right now
For me your presence always feels like...
a torch that I can hold to light up the way,
a salty salt in the fresh sea, and
One breath that always I needed to fill my lung cavity
The wind is blowing,
Gently, on this cool night.
As we overlook the city,
Shinning bright, with lights.
The roof is empty.
Nothing but our silhouettes,
Moving, in the darkness.
You come close,
Standing on a tiptoe.
I look into your eyes.
And then I know,
Deep in my heart,
How much, I love you so.
cool green leaves rustling
hot red tin roof expanding-
freedom of movement
stiff arthritic limbs longing
go - exercise caution - stop
8/14/2019 - Poetry form: Tanka - A Japanese poem of five lines, the first and third composed of five syllables and the others seven. In Japanese, tanka is often written in one straight line, but in English and other languages, we usually divide the lines into the five syllabic units: 5-7-5-7-7. Each tanka is divided into two segments. The first three lines are the upper phrase, and the last two lines are the lower phrase. The upper phrase typically contains an image, and the lower phrase exposes the poet's ideas about that image. - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019