perhaps I am a fragment of them,
careful with what I see and not having a lot of skin,
because of the emotions burden to constantly wear
and all the negativity is slowing us down
to move the fingers that crave to write the words,
first on papers and later - hopefully- on every soul,
about the joy, the love, the pain, the hurt we see and feel.

The old blanket is so hard to discard

dramas have unfolded in its folds
upheavals of winter's orogeny
trills of two birds in ecstatic thrill
to the rest in the ripened knowledge

we have made a home
we have earned it.

In the still of night
under the old blanket
the tales are relived
without a touch
a word..

The old blanket is so hard to discard.

Part 1 Down the Rabbit Hole:

He had faith in exceptions
He was optimistic
He “believed in six impossible things just before breakfast”
and had his cake.
He mused of the bunny farm
and fought the jabberwocky in his dreams.
These things failed him.
He woke up, and was crushed with the mice
In a snap of revelation
and
Under the weight of truth.
He was shattered, along with the coral corpses
Of the paperweight

Part 2 The Paper Weight:

A coral in the glass paperweight
A hummingbird shielded by twigs
The fragile illusion
A naive illusion
“The beautiful illusion”
Quoth Marlow, our dear friend Charlie.
Through the looking glass
His world, the Poet’s world,
was shattered,
Not by “a sea of trouble”
Nor by words of a mature revelation
but by Silence.

Part 3 The Horror, The Horror:

The wrath and sorrow of the composers
Were expressed
In the requiem of silence.
The conductor threw his hand open
In the final flight of the dove
For the poet, the dreamer,
Who, and whose ballads and odes
Were silenced on the battlefronts of the nouveau era.
No one followed when he chased the seagulls.
No one answered his pleads and screams of wrath and sorrow.
In the end, there was only silence
For the poet, and his poetry.
To this he whispered:
“The Horror, the Horror”
And then
Nothing more.

I have felt the ripples
of predestined change
Some crashing like tidal waves
upon my desolate plane

Others a delicate trickle
through this narrowing gorge;
complex and understated
in its methodical purge

Both deliberate in the upheaval
and churning of the soil
change that brings inner balance
to mind, body and soul

I’ve swum against their current
dragged to murky waters below
tumbling in the turmoil
of my urgent need for control

Now cast upon this rocky shore
panicked and alone
I must surrender to the journey
to find my way back home

I welcome the soaking of soles
as I intend to surf each wave
Immersing myself into its flow
I become the ripples of change

She rose from the ocean waters' depths,
her complexion luminous and gleaming;
With salt-sea spray surrounding her face,
and emerald eyes constantly beaming.

Her long lush hair of auburn glow,
was as fresh as an Autumn breeze;
And the silken strands blew softly,
like Fall's tender, tumbling leaves.

As she moved to approach the shoreline,
in a gossamer sense of wonder;
I started to rush towards her image,
but the waves simply pulled me under.

Once back on shore I saw her there,
a diaphanous specter of light;
Her flowing walk captured my heart,
while she danced like a floating kite.

I looked around and no one else,
appeared on the glistening sands;
Then suddenly she waved my way,
and gestured to take her hand.

A wonderful sleep had engulfed me,
in a most magical dream of delight;
But when I awoke no clue remained,
of the enchantress who graced my sight.  

That lovely dream which felt so real,
of a haunting vision now gone astray;
Reminds me always to follow the sea,
for such illusions to enlighten my days !

Poetry is not what the poet has to say,
It's what the reader wants to read.
It is not something to be taught in schools,
But to by learned by the heart.
Because maybe then,
People would be able to read people better.
Perceive them as more than just bodies,
See true souls instead of the outer nobodies.
Because what more are people,
Than just the universe's poetry?
Meant for more than just judgement,
Made and created to be loved.