Night flower blossoming
Beneath the summer sky
Petal parasols unfurling
Throughout June and July

She was born under the moon
Nocturnal butterfly
Pollinated by pale moths
To live one day then die

Moonflower blooms in warmth
Her short season’s end nigh
Shriveling once the frost sets in
And conceding to the ice

Moonblossom rich in scent
A true pleasure to stand by
Her short-lived sweet fragrance
Would all surely vivify

"Tell me the sun doesn't shine when I am gone." She said softly, eyes looking up, earnestly at him.

"But it does, my dear, the sun shines all day long. And I am like the weary moon, who misses your warmth on those cold, dark nights. "

You are like a sky.
A fire across the clouds.
And I can't peel my eyes away.
Like a moth drawn to your flame,
I'd rather burn down to nothing, then to
fade from your memory.
I was a part of you,     the way each  
                                crater
adds a little bit of character
                  to the moon.
And you erased me from your life. Dressed me in nonexistence.
                      It was easier for you to look away than to wrap me in
                   your love.
I guess I flew too close to you, because
my dear, you were the sun, and
when you pulled me into you,
                      my wings
disintegrated, and
                   I crumbled away in your
warmth.

My heart has risen from it’s dormant winter
No longer blanketed by clouded skies
It’s cold comfort no longer appealing
And can no longer cover my shadows, my footprints, my pride
They parted like window drapes
To a view so intimidating and sublime
Of all the possibilities
For a future- to myself- I denied
During this season
It took too much effort to bade off
The allure of such a melancholy dream
It took a strength I did not possess
A truth I could not confess
But now I have found the courage to find the warmth inside of me
To brighten my tunneled vision
To see my own faults
But realize things happen for a reason
As if warmth gives to warmth
And misery feeds into misery
But no one has to be the villain

paulSN

Don't speak directly to her--
you will melt the skin  off
  her bone-frame

Instead, find the parallel-words--

ones that will float alongside her
as she walks, so as she is able-
she can pluck them--  like
wild roses along the highway

Sometimes, love takes a
   tremendous
amount of creativity--

the name of the game is
  its destination
not the control of its path

D Vanlandingham

I have gotten to the place
where I hate most everything
Except for the deep, raw truth

      of true brokenness.

And the love that I feel
for those  left so alone
undoes the twist of my hatred,

Bringing a warmth  that
keeps me alive, in my deep longing
to be with beautiful spirits,

                       kindred.

It’s still early in the season
but longing lives in me
for the warmth of sun-touched days
for the songs of greening fields
for a tangle of butterflies
for a rainbow slanted up to the sky.

I long to lie with my nose to the earth
to smell the grass rising
to feel the freshness of dewdrops
to listen to the hum of life awakening.

Let April’s elevator
return birds to their places in the trees
increase the barble of growth
polish the heavens with soft white clouds .

Let the basket of winter sorrows flow past in the river,
Let the days lengthen and explode into growing light,
Let renewal sink into the earth deeply like gentle rain,
Let us come out of the darkness into the newness of spring.