Be the rising Moon in my dark nights, moon, I am thirsty for your light.
Rumi 💙

Thirsty as a dry and parched rose in the dessert
Her liquid light of effervescent blue is calling me  
Invitations of the highest order, she is the moon, a
Roseling, seeking skies in a fibrillated night, she is a  
Spangled silver light upon my semi-shadowed face
Titillating my senses across the waters I call her
Yodeling for attention like a wild Irish rose
for
Light me up moon as you light the garden rose
I want to feel your power like the howling wolf
Girth my soul and appeal to my senses moon
Helium to my thoughts you bring me home to you
True and trusted friend, you moon, are my telling rune.

By: Mystic Rose

Whoever thought one day I'd let my hair go gray and walk with a sway
"They are only laughter lines" I told myself, disregarding a wrinkle in time.
I promised to be one of those ladies who would look suave at sixty five,  
but when you see me walk down the isle, I cannot hide that lombar slide.
I will wear dresses of fresh linen with only leather belts that buckle,
and when my shaky hands refuse to still, I'll blame it on my knuckles !
When I looked into the mirror then,... all I saw was a pretty girl,  
but now I see two kindly eyes and a memory impearled  !  
I rise at 6 and retire at 9, I sleep on my side for the one I adore,    
lovie says that when I snore, it sounds like a lion's roar !
I am happy with my life,  
and although I lose my train of thought sometimes,
I still wake up every morning feeling grateful,
that I am still able to dress, to the nines...

Quote by: Michael Bassey Johnson
“Beyond the veil lies what our eyes cannot see, skin cannot feel and consciousness cannot absorb.”

A parting thought in the middle of ordinary time
flesh wants to stay but the heart wants to soar  
inside a broken temple the intervals of misery persist,  
and so she flies into a world, untouchable as the dawn;  
She is a castaway in  a land far away  
a daydreamer disentangled from the rip tide of reality  
a torn vessel gliding through a shroud, most High.
Forty cubits long and twenty cubits wide
she fits in the palm of His hand, like a small Jesus.  
It takes three hundred Sacred Angels
to appease her ear-shattering cries  
Each time she flies here to this place,
her wistful sadness disappears.

This is a place where  all good girls go to die  
where the agatat sound of a tearing veil
and the arcanum whisper of God prevails,
a place where a child is heard and paried, in love.

Longing for the flowers that adorn my garden patch
I open wide the door that I imagine sits unlatched
Inside this magic land of mine, I'm longing to explore
every dainty blossom bud arranged with sweet adore
Une belle epoque, ..."a period of high artistic view"
each boutonnieres a whisper of, " and how are you ?"
Abiding in the charms of my annual florets,
I sit and take to wonder, how it is that we first met
It was Maytime and the sun was oh ! bran new
yes we were enamoured and we stuck like crazy glue
Two petals sharing one flower, we clung like poetry
leaning on each other sharing secrets, drinking tea
Oh but that was long ago, when love was all we knew
two flowers growing wild aside some gentle feverfews
Steadfast as the sun and moon we were back then
as I sit here in my garden for the life of me,
I cannot remember, when ?

(A PERSONIFICATION POEM )

I was born cradled inside your palm  
within the perimeters of a safe haven  
brought to life by loving silty fingers
Rose is what I heard you call me
staying true to my appellative name
I chose to bloom inside your heart  
Many butterflies and bumblebees
sat on my flowerhead but only you
were the apple of my eye, dear heart
I was born to please you and only you
enclosed and surrounded I thrived,
like a rose, in a tangled mess of flowers.

Written by Mystic Rose

Bursts of blooming colors in my garden fair
every bud is beauty, born of love and toil  
Rays of sunshine easy days and breezy air
cordial flowers flushed with color coil

Nature sings of all creation its here and there
a joyful world of wonder heart's embroil
Calliandra feather sweeps of angel hair
silver artemisias slick as linseed oil

Garden art, its all about the artist's flair
every shoot and floweret is alive with dare
radiant things growing on blessed soil
like cordial flowers flushed with color coil

Bursts of blooming colors in my garden fair
rays of sunshine, easy days and breezy air.

Travel with me and enter
into the flower carpeted mountain meadows
of my youth;  
Lose yourself  in the wild beauty which resides within  
God's tinted skies of yellow and vermouth.
Vested memories held captive by eidetic moments,  
"Oh blessed beating heart, "
enter the flowered thoughts of a poet's nest, delve into the  
sanctuary of God's Grace,
for it is here that you belong.  
Seen through the eyes, felt with the heart
ensconced with a soul your free to roam,
inside roads less traveled, where timeless voices
are heard, through the echoes of all time.

You belong to the One who has given you,
both shape and creed.