The scent of night perfumes my pillow here tonight
alongside jasmine dreams that will never go away
A traceless dusk awaits me by tomorrow's infant light
as I dream beneath the umbra of a lost forgotten day

Silently I revel by the flowered gates of Paradise
jarring open with my fingers parting veils of time
A harp of gold is being plucked right before my eyes
as I float towards its cadence, I feel quite sublime...

Ephemeral presences with feel and touch of home
everything is moving smoothly as I begin to slide
Judgement day I have arrived and I'm here alone      
as I sit before the Jury, I lose the urge to hide


Here inside this fragranced Kingdom an aromatic bliss,  
permeating right through heaven, like a gentle kiss.  

Copyright © Mystic Rose |  2024

A scratching on the concrete path
– thin plastic
The brittle kind
Slight enough to slide slowly, in a low breeze
A tiny ping as something caught
– elastic
A flabby find
Light enough to stretch feebly, then a soft squeeze

An eye-shock from the brazen tones
- the clown mask
The grotesque face
Bright enough to clash basely in the Autumn mood
A smudging from the thickest lips
- crazy cast
All ****** grace
White enough to bold highlight the ****** hues

I wonder why it’s lonely now
- lost costume
But just one part
Strange enough to fare poorly in the candy stakes
Bit too obscure for Halloween
- low volume
No candy heart
Change enough to read oddly, as jokes or aches

       Large, ill-set eyehole blues
       - hint at bacchanalia
              A single tear at sadness       
              The open mouth at madness
       Impossible to choose
       - with no paraphernalia

       Child, was your clown-face mask
       - giggle-shed or snigger-skinned?
              Too wet from crying laughter?
              Forgot to get it after?
       Or did you run too fast,
       and lose it in a gust of wind?

Or was it just too complex for
- your fresh face
All comic-dressed
Mixed enough to sit weirdly - no candy here
The others didn’t know to help
- save your place
They tried their best
Fixed enough to get through
       The single tear
       Perhaps next year

A drink; a drink,
Another for me!
And one overboard
For the God of the sea!

A drink; a drink!
Another for me!
A vision of ***,
A truth for me!

A drink; a drink!
Once more for the gods!
O, safe keep our ship,
From the men of the odds!

A drink; a drink,
Poseidon, he falls!
Dionysus insists;
His brother; he calls!

60 years ago September 23, 1962
set in 2022 How is it they knew?
The Jetsons futuristic projections
Every detail pure perfection

George Jetson, father, Jane Jetson’s mother
Judy Jetson teenager, Elroy Jetson, bother
Astro Robo dog and the robot maid
Portrayed a futuristic family cartoon played

A push of a button Instant technology
George’s car folds into a portable briefcase
flying cars orbit city. chatterbox (phone)
Video calls, Smart watch, microwaves

If you look it up today critics would
Insist cultural bias gender stereotype.
Children watching the Jetsons cartoons
Call them a Loving Modern Family

In theory productivity gained from
Technology would mean less work.
A leisure Society by the year 2000.
Approbation to the creative creations

The motivations for this cartoon; our fears
the Soviet union would win the space race
Futuristic, optimistic cartoon influence, hopes popular culture. Shaping the future

How much would Society be shaped by technology, perceptions and expectations
What can be achieved are as important.
as what actually transpires, methodically

All that in Saturday morning cartoons
Glued to the TV kids over the moon
Dreams of possibilities of what if?
Children were taught to invent gadgets  

Inspired song;

Jetsons theme song, YouTube

you
not the flower but
the bee kissing
rosebuds, making
living things
bloom

you
no sunrise on
mountains but
the sun
herself, every
flame burning fierce
sploding gainst
the sky

you
not an ocean but
a stream softly
babbling
and rescuing
us,
the lonely
the lost

you
not forever
but tragically
temporary
and every
moment
you are here
i will be
what i am -
the pollen,
the planets,
the wanderer,
the poet -
dedicated to
loving
you

In her gauzy garments
Above the bowing trees
The moon has many lovers
In the sighing breeze.

They all take her dancing
In exotic lands
They give her sparkling diamonds
They kiss her milk-white hands.

She is round & fullsome
Or slender as a waif
When she is then waning
Her flowers are kept safe.

Silken skeins of darkness
When she's waxing full
Are parted by her brightness
She is NEVER dull!

Her beaux are all so courtly
But she eschews them all
Her only love can make her pale
She burns at his call...

She lets out her moonbeams
Through her eyes they weep
She loves the one eclipsing her
They can NEVER meet!

She, so strong within her court
Will curtsey when he comes
The moon has many lovers

But she's taken by the SUN.


Catherine Jarvis
(C) 12/14/2019