Yeah,
         I was in that moment,
When the small space around me

Nurtured the esteem in me,

       Breeding under the shade,

Waiting to knock down

The gates of my insecurities,

Feeding on hope ,it grew

an astonishing being it became,

the eyes that made her notice me

The fragrance that lead her

Into my hands.

Beauty they say, is
Symmetrical perfection,
Flawless as the deep blue sea
Radiant as the sun's grin

Beauty _I say  is,
The flower blooming in serenity
With its delicate beautiful petals
****** to the eyes of the world
It's aesthetic appeal misunderstood by the majority
  
          Beauty I  say,
Is all what makes you different from them,
    All what makes you an emerald and them the background colour,
        
Beauty I say, is all the different pieces glued together to make you.

Beauty   they   say,
Is seduction to the eye,
Is the calm ambiance
   Is the mesmerising sunset
  that all eyes fumble to adore.    

Beauty I say,
Is the vibrant spirit you owe,
                   Is the tiring  maze that makes you a piece of art.
Is that wild storm that makes my eyes attracted to your presence.

A memory that starts to linger.
A memory that slowly goes away.
A memory that disappears at the flick of a finger.
A memory that sadly fades to grey.

What is a memory, you say?
A memory is something to reminisce,
It's something the mind can replay.
Memories that can bring such bliss.

But memories can also be so distant.
They could be so painful.
Long enough to be nonexistent,
Maybe to the point of thinking it was just a fable.

I once had wonderful memories,
The kind of memories that made me smile.
A lot filled with an abundant of treasuries,
So many memories that were very worthwhile.

As time went by,
I didn't enjoy those memories long.
Before I knew it, they made me cry.
Where could have it gone wrong?

My memories soon turned into jeopardy.
I was starting to lose my mind.
Everything was beginning to be a fading memory,
"Why does the world have to be so unkind?"

There have been so many thoughts
running through my mind
that it leaves my heart in knots
and my existence so blind.

"Why do I feel cast aside?"
"Why am I being rejected?"
These thoughts make me want to hide
because it makes me feel so dejected.

The thoughts I have keep coming back,
I then ask myself, "is it me?"
"Is there something that I lack?"
"or is it something bigger that I can't see?"

"Will it always be like this?"
I don't want to reminisce.

It's time again to freeze in snow and ice,
or would be were it not fifty degrees,
and time for joy and cheer, to just be nice,
or try amidst the screaming shopping sprees.

This holiday we stand apart six feet,
to spread joyfulness rather than the plague,
and carols sing while we waltz down the street,
although the lyrics are a little vague.

But let us share my favorite holiday
and raise a glass of cheer to one and all.
For in the end arriving on the sleigh
are friends, both old and new, to deck the hall.

Through it all I am here to smile and say
may we all have a merry Christmas day.

Perhaps if the world stopped turning round
I wouldn't be wondering so hopelessly
Into the forsaken dirt of the ground
If you stopped hurting me so endlessly
But maybe it is just my twisted mind
The blanket covering me in the dark
When through the misery there is a rhyme
Of deep-rooted poetry that is art
And more through the misery, there is you
Fiding me in my poisonous palace
Maybe you shouldn't have wished me anew
And in this irony, I shall no bask
When you come to tell me what you've meant
Because all you ever were was hell sent

The song of the lily

It seems silly
When my heart goes a dancin’
I feel like a lily
Light and soft; skippin’ and prancin’
With the leaves of ivy; and the vines of the sea
For when the night gets dark; and the world is blanketed in a soft hue
I shall lay down to rest in my river that I may not flea  
When the wind blew
I call into the sky to bring forth all hands wide
With a swish of ribbon; and the call of the herring
For no one sided nor lied
For when I feel empty and bare, how can I keep caring
The syrup of love is sickly sweet
Even though seeing you smile, is a never-ending treat
A.J.Busse

The clay *** on the shelf that one day fell,
     And broke to shards and splinters of itself,
     Bemoaned its fate, bewailed its shards to tell
     The other pots of clay upon the shelf:
"Oh, help my rotund but so stricken frame!"
     "And meld the cracks and all the parts of me!"
     "Behold the mess I am, behold my shame!"
     "For what am I if I can't hold my tea?"
Oh, silly ***, what are these things you say?
     Who knows you better than your planner-plotter?
     Yet you confide in other pots of clay?
     Why not instead confide in your Potter?
They cannot help others if not themselves,
So seek the one beyond the pots and shelves.


(C)2020, Christos Rigakos

Inquire not of me, nor of my life!
     All knowledge, by instruction, is withheld.
     Our blood line cut, your kin no more my wife,
     your right to know by your own hand dispelled.
Your silence had you ousted from my heart,
     when I besought your most beloved names.
     Your hush kept me at bay, and us apart,
     as I sought you, my son-ship you disclaimed.
Now if perchance a thought of me has raised,
     please quick extinguish it and mind me not.
     Why resurrect the ghost of one you've razed
     upon your kin's request, and made as naught?  
True love, when born, has immortality;
when false it lives only conditionally.

(C)2018, Christos Rigakos