Years ago, I wed a mechanic,
A token marriage, quite symbolic,
Saturday arvos, really shambolic,
I gawped at him, gazing at his dipstick,
Still working on who was  the dipstick,
Checking under the hood,
was supposed to be good,
So, that is what is really symbolic,
Dipstick gazing at a dipstick, gazing at his dipstick,
Yah! Symbolism of the futile past symbolic............

I passed by that tree the other day.
The one nestled between two thorn bushes
and just past a ravine
along the upper trail of Old Man’s Cave in Hocking Hills,
surrounded by two thousand acres or so
of dense forest.

I laughed to myself because
The old birch hadn’t changed since I had last seen it.
But it certainly felt different.

The same gray cloak of bark
covered the tender matter inside.
Golden foliage still swayed above me
like it did on that brisk November afternoon.

Today is brutally brisk,
but I have to admit that I did stop for a second to reminisce
under the once comforting blanket of its shadow.
I fixed my now nostalgic, sepia-toned gaze on the bark
and traced my fingers over the scar that we left.

I remembered looking for the perfect one with you.
It was this one, we both thought.
And so were you, at least I thought.

My cold blade carved into the robust fortress of its surface
exposing the birch’s reddish-tan, natural finish underneath.
It then became our tree,
not just any tree, in a forest, on a planet full of them.

I remembered you telling me a couple months back about
how much you admired trees,
and how I should read Trees. Reflections and Poems
by Hermann Hesse, and I did almost immediately.

“Trees are sanctuaries.”
was our favorite quote from the poem, we decided.
And it was the most relevant.
Our tree had become a grand symbol
that would carry in our memory,
what it meant to love and be loved.

But now its just that,
another tree in a forest
that we scarred.
And that, now, scars us.

One: Smokey grey; the kind that blurs your vision or gathers in corners of ceilings that are somehow still not as high as you.
Two: The teal that masked the bedroom walls of my old home; the bedroom with nothing but a mattress on the floor and my unplugged television. I was eco-friendly, which leads me to
Three: Green: any and all greens. Mother Nature makes it obvious she loves its hues, and I strive to be one with this Earth.
Four: Whether fueled by anger or love, give me rose-colored shades and I'll rock 'em with grace and style like none before. My red blood boils with passion.
Five: Making concrete decisions is not my forte, so choosing a final favorite will leave me second guessing. Combine all the options and give me a rainbow, because when we see a color, it is actually that color being reflected while all the other colors are absorbed. They work together, as we should. You bring the crayons and I'll bring the blank canvas, let's paint the world rainbow together.

The raven strutted into view-
Dissembling crows
Peered from the tangled grass lashed
Into solemn silence.
The raven assumed a coal-black authority
Driven by its coal-black soul.
Its beak stabbed out automatically
Bleakness of past; spectral futures
Like echoes. Its eyes were cruel drops
Of impenetrable night.
The raven possessed everything in
The imperious manner of a cut-throat-
Killing without fear, without conscience.
It ruled like the destroyer.

This is a symbol,
Of life's gamble,
Our eternal optimism,
Symbolic  of symbolism,
The sun arose anyway,
My wish for you today,
For now and always,
"May all your troubles be little ones,"
Smiles on dials, make your own fun!

Are you insecure of your own symbolic image, too insecure to the point that you undermine my image that you imagine?

When in fact, you will never weaken or reduce my image, because my image is far from your understanding. My image folds and bends into twisted planes beyond reality. My image is not your image.

Fool, you remain a disguise between the odds. You do not know me, in fact, no one in this room knows or will know me.. well perhaps one will. But the very blunt eyes you have, dispose malicious words that attempt to agitate me, only weakening you more.

I stand afar from your plane, I stand watching you torment me, in peace, in peace I am, to remain; not disturbed. I have seen things beyond your capabilities. I have seen odd realities, that even I could not explain! I’ve seen twisted times, of never-discovered realms. I could not explain how I feel or what I see, no one can. It is the line between a genius and insanity. It is living on a isolated floating island that is left in solitude. It is only the fear of myself that dominates me. It is the fear of living, of living alone. Alone, no one capable of understanding you. Only to find that one person who seems to “get you”.

I do not claim myself. I only attempt to merely summarize my words, words not enough to portray the image. The image that you, my friend, cannot see.

I fall before an onyx sky
Sharp winds whisper anxious words in my ears
Freezing tendrils coil around my limbs
Along the horizon, a brilliant glow
A smile so bright it cracks the twilit welkin
I reach out for the light,
I feel the heat against my trembling flesh,
Warm eyes pierce through me,
Melting my chains
Laughter, so soft and easy
Muffles the whispers
I hold my breath, I wait for the pain
It does not return,
I stand on shaking legs,
Let the light absorb into my skin
Breathing life through my veins
I turn my back on the shattered pieces of the onyx sky

Ready to unfold from dawn's cold grey mist,
She'll know to follow nature's sweet path,
To reveal the beauty that only she hath,
Accepting the light that she cannot resist.

She opens with colours that call tender touch,
A spiral of petals that twist from the core,
Silky pages that open in her moment, not before.
Who knew that a rose could hold so much?

Come close and breathe the sweet perfume she holds,
The promise of nectar hidden inside,
The honey she gives, her treasure, her prize,
More fragrant than incense, more precious than gold.

Her petals now open, but the bud always there,
Holding her strong, yet so fragile and fair.

I gave you a flower once
It was symbolic of our love
It was beautiful at first
But withered to nothing
So you threw it away
And moved on the next day