#fountains
Caress Rose serenades
Within your hair
WithIn the honey coves of our love
My exotic dove my sweet luminous one
Ive chosen you
from all the exquisite flowers
As Your Loves intimate rain
and rose melodies has chosen me
To sweetly scintillate and kindly soothe
My pretty candlelit *****
Unveil with the evening stars
diamond psalms,
Your Exotic sanctities
To the Fountains of my love
Dance In translucent
Moonlight robes
within their honey sacred waters,
Like a salsa rose for our love only
While the world is beautiful yet lonely
Our love longs for one another
Like sweet waves long for luminous
And soothing shores
The melodies
and rains sweet balmy kisses
Is tenderly deep within our love
WithIn Its Sun and Moonlit Vineyards
With Our Love Infinite
and
dear within your pretty soul
Stay awake my luminous sweet one
Even while all is surreal
Waltz Sultry within the cool
And enchanted maple trees
Dance like jazz exotic and sweet
Within the Salsa Dream
With every sigh of Our loves
Sunflowers and roses
The Heavenly Moon
In Sweet Iris repose
Reynaldo Casison
Mar 5, 2025
Mar 5, 2025 at 2:38 AM UTC
☯ and all the wishes stuck in their throats.
(i.) when i throw quarters
i wish i knew
what the universe tasted like
in my tea; and then i wished
that i could hug my babushka
& dedushka again for the last time
before their hourglass ran out.
i wish i could still witness the way
the light dribbled like honey in
that foreign land familiar street.
Back then I was taught that love
was contagious by nature,
that love was unconditional-
---maybe that’s what the universe really
tasted like to begin with.
(ii.) when i throw dimes i-
wish that my antidepressants were more
like leftover echoes
that i’d eat for dinner.
i wish i hadn’t said that but it’s too late
‘cause this ode is too busy
tripping over it’s own shoes;
i wish my poem knew how to tie it’s own shoelaces,
and knew how to say grace.
but most of all...
i wish there was a softer metaphor
to lower me into this hurting;
just like the leftover echoes
(iii.) when i throw nickels
i wish i could erase the murals of flashbacks
behind my eyelids;
before i fall asleep.
i’m convinced that they’re to blame
for my eyesight that acts more like
a broken compass than a disability.
i wish i was blind to the way
the world spoon feeds us the dark;
like it’s a requirement for us
in order to flower into people.
i wish i could fish my name
from infinity’s belly.
please just never wish for
infinity.
(iv.) when i throw in pennies
i wish i wasn’t their daughter.
i wish i didn’t have russian strings
and american footsteps for bloodlines;
i wish i was born a moon somewhere,
orbiting or worshipping the the color of
space, which is coincidentally the color of poets
the color of ink.
i wish my forbidden fruit was poetry,
i’m glad it isn’t.
(v. ) and i think,
i will always wish
for quicker deaths.
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 3:05 AM UTC
Did you know what I felt
When you spoke an untruthful truth
Did you see my happiness melt
When you thought you were trying to prove
Can you look out at the mountains
And see where the ridges formed
Can you look at the many fountains
And see their designed forms
What do you define as perfect
And what do you believe is worth it
Is it the reefs in the ocean
Or is it the truth you consider worthless
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 7:00 PM UTC
Under the golden fountain,
Watch I my silver brothers:
Shooting high as a mountain;
Landing on the still waters.
Silver Blue, wish I were you;
Tho’ each one is so tiny,
All can shine brighter than dew;
Give some of your shine to me!
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 4:07 AM UTC
I see the fountains
brown blue and gold
architect's heart and soul
a sight to adore
for eyes too sore
from day's turbulence
an' crushed conscience
searching for an exit door.
one moment of magic
is all that it takes
when the water jets out
with all its mickle might
an' signs of subtle finesse
above the surfaced stress
into that carefree sky
and suddenly you sigh
as if you soared with it.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 3:51 AM UTC
Fountains of flowers, growing so fast.
Such a shame that none of them last.
Summer blossoms soon will wane,
They’ll be back next year again.
Bees await the autumn flowers,
Checking out the wooded bowers.
Twittering blackbirds guard their land:
Will their fights get out of hand?
Swallows swoop with arcing wings,
Ever returning for endless Springs.
It’s early July, just past midsummer,
Every green leaf is a newcomer.
Earlier dawn and longer light,
Durable daylight and shorter night.
British weather will still prevail:
Sunny spells and storms with hail.
Winter always is a ******
I thank Goodness we have our Summer.
Paul Butters
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 5:59 AM UTC
Your soft lips to all my lips
blow hot
breath everywhere
Your tongue to my tongue
taste me
everywhere
Your fiery desires to fulfill all my desires
cry out loud
love fountains everywhere
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC