I believe I fell asleep last year at the cusp of a new agenda.
As a new virus took root, I found myself eradicated from society
in a way I never imagined.
All of a sudden instead of immersing myself in music and dance
and coffee talk chats,  I found myself immersed in diluted contact
such as social distancing and Zoom;

mother-in-law dies
so does my bird named, Ringo
we bury them both
  
The same day we bury our Gloucester canary in the backyard,
we buried my mother in law, as I partook in a family funeral
miles away from home, I realized that the sun non-selectively
continued to shine no matter what .  So much has happened
in such a short span, I feel it is out of my hands.  


six months later
still waiting for the vaccine,  
life can be so mean

He pushed his shopping cart towards the empty tunnel
it was full of rattling empties and a brave cocker spaniel  
a penniless vagabond hiding from the rainy day pummel
wet,  cold, and hungry hunching closer to Jack Daniel  
he shared with his dog, a little square of flannel
  
Along came a mosquito with a straw-like mouth    
and crawled into the bottle with an empty spout  
The hobo drunk on ***** in a stupor from the sauce  
shut the insect in then hollered " so now whos boss !"
the dog did bark but heh, he wasn't in the land of Oz

so on his knees the hobo went and soon began to pray
"I didn't have to ****** him so why did I, oh why oh why "
and then the echo came from the empty tunnel's way  
"Don't cry my child after all it was just a fly !"  
confessed and reassured the hobo slept  until the light of day.

I may not be so popular with the comments and the views
and although I never make the front liners nor the news
the one thing I do know is this I got friends that are true    

They know to find my page and send me my heart's gage
even if I didn't win a contest nor cause the latest rage
I dislike gossip and fake people and yes, I love to sage

I don't evaluate myself by the amount of likes dislikes
preferring Cinderella's stage coach over shiny motorbikes
I don't sit in the cinders and take pleasure in the spikes

I'm an ordinary poet who loves to write about this and that
very private with my sort so I won't say where I hang my hat
and if you really must know, I love dogs more then I love cats.

It had been years since he had last seen his dad, when he lost his job,
he hardly came home.    
After many missed birthdays and graduations, he gave up on the notion of a real dad...
Years later, he found him living under a bridge, on a makeshift bed.  
He ate off a cardboard table held together by rocks and twine.  Stored his empty bottles in an old beat up cooler, filled with stale pizza.  They had words that day and he vowed to never return.  As far as he was concerned, his dad was dead...

One day he got a phone call from a nursing home saying his dad was in their care.  
He had requested a visit from him, would he please come.  He had expected many things on that day, but a clean dad with combed hair, was not one of them.
They shared a hot coffee and donut while sitting at a table.  They spoke for hours.

He asked his son to wheel him to the dresser. He gave him a card with a big blue balloon on it and a circus clown.  "Whatever happened to that little boy?"  he asked him through his tears.  
"I don't know dad, I guess he grew up" while you were elsewhere .
That night for the first time in years he slept in a dry bed with a real blanket and, a door.

Somethings he learned to live without , some things he plain threw out,
but the memory of his son's smile, that he never forgot.  " Its oka dad,
it flew up in heaven to be with mom " was his five year old reply.  
He once had a child and he abandoned him, just like a circus clown.

July 26, 2021

The greatest gift that I could give you is the gift of my long years
every shade of burgundy that wine can't sell
every shade of gold that the sun cannot display
the greatest gift that I can give you, is the gift of my years
I am October, I come once a year at your home my love, to
Caress you with shivers both warm and cool.  I am a  
Teleported month that sweeps away the summers scorch
Opening doors to pastures and rustic pleasures, plum corn
Bathed in yellow juicy grains and bites, acorns, pinecones
Environmental beauties that never exist in winter's spew;

Return to me lover as I puff over you, I am "October "
your favorite color,
silk scarves are put away mink coats are worn
summer suits placed in cedar drawers,  
I am suddenly reborn through airy branches of trees  
Feasting on your wind whipped eyes of blue
I become October every consecutive year,  
your favorite color is October, and mine is you.

"My heart is a compass lost at sea finding its North in the gaze of thee."
This compass points directly at you  
whether your North East South or West
Aligned to your magnetic pole
I am being magnetized
You are an orientation arrow
my Polaris * my North Star
Configurator of my soul,  
I am yours *  
You are a trustworthy compass
without you I'd be lost
You are the magnet    
that altered the course of my life,  
             FOREVER !

Visions of belonging held fast inside my heart
I want to be accepted for who I am my Lord
but all they see is a he she, and a shifty ****  
even in the days of old, only men wore swords
time has changed but not re-arranged their ways
yesterday appearing same, a cornucopia of straight
today we have the trans, lesbians, gays
and those serving up, fear and utter hate
I love the feel of lingerie God, so why can't I ?
my heart is red like theirs, it pumps, it hurts
I shed so many tears I've forgotten how to cry  
can you love me just like this, without revert?
Sitting on this pew I've come to realize all I do is flee
and although your son was crucified at thirty three  
I'm still here Father, .. you made me like I am  
my heart is red like theirs, I suffer when I can't be me.

Of them I have a few and I will admit this only to you
they are not from here and they are very, very blue
These little one foot creatures are from outer space
they are well behaved and have the cutest face.
I named one Volcano because of his cyborg strength,  
though he talks in monosyllables he also talks at length !
Then there is Jukebox, he loves to sing at night
he can hit an octave but he isn't very bright.
Out of all my little friends my favorite one is Hue,  
he's a Venutian little chatterbox and he isn't all that blue
He smiles so much that it gives him gas,
but I like him cuz he always makes me laugh,
and knows just what to do.

Copyright © Mystic Rose 2024

Quote: I don't want a perfect life I want a happy life

Children tumbling out of bed
coffee dripping from my old faded percolator
Stockings hanging from the shower curtain
mother's laughter from across the miles
Husband's wet kisses and the shuffle of feet
scraped toast, slamming front doors
The smell of mulched leaves
the way the sun slants over my kitchen window
I don't want a perfect life, just a happy one
Empty cafes and smokescreen writes
pulp fiction and doggie smiles and treats
eggs over easy and difficult puzzles to solve
hugs and kisses and fun between the sheets
tea for two, I love Lucy, and more dreams
then I can ever dream, just a happy life,
nothign more...

Wrapping him in  a blue blanket he hands him over to me
outside the snow is falling, as I gaze at him my hearts about to burst
all the pushing is over, now its time to receive his glee
bluest eyes I'd ever seen suckling at my breast with a quenching thirst  

Yesterday was Debussy and Bach
lullabies of sweet by a morning dawn
Today  a baby cradle and a gentle rock    
"Oh my God, did you see that Ron !"

We named him Joseph, after his grandfather who was a great artist
homilies of love spoken truthfully,  I cannot contain the joy
just given birth to a special boy and it feels like I've been kissed  
my love leans in and whispers " we'll give him every toy!"

With a sacral dimple you can't miss  
he looks like an Angel  
so I draw him close and feather him a kiss    
he gurgles as if to say, "I'm your Angel"    

October 8, 2020

Before I down my cuppa, before I brush me teeth
let me go down on one knee and pray to thee
Before the sun arises and before the world rises
let me close my eyes so you can hear my cries

Lord, may you always be my guiding light and friend
so I can live beside you until the very end  
Lord, teach me how to be  brave in a world full of fear
so I can be truthful to myself no matter whom I draw near

Before I put on my makeup on and leave the house
let me walk towards your oceanic penthouse
Before I dip into the sea or walk onto encrusted earth
let me slip into my minion wings, the ones you gifted me at birth.

Far away by the oceanside  I sit and watch the seagulls fly
inside a pale orange sun that has yet to warm a reposing sand
Over by the boardwalk the air still hums of yesterday's feet
two youngsters feeding pelicans perched on feathered height

The smell of fried shrimp coming out of a windowless kitchen
tall glass pina colada bottles with little umbrellas inserted in  
down by the ocean the burgundy traces of a latent sun arrives
as we sip slowly, and eat quietly, atop the hotel peer

Its as if it happened yesterday but I can still smell the French fries
wrapped in plaid red and white paper drenched in crisping oils
Pungent odors of chlorinated water from the pool now all gone
replaced by freshly shampooed hair, and lingering sun tan lotion

Wearing a linen white dress and my recently purchased mala beads
I feel more Zen in my pinky today then I felt in a lifetime my friend
far away by that ocean it was the perfect vacation without any fear  
when I stop to think, I hope that I could return there, next year....

A winter  magic moment on the wings of seagulls  high
within the stillness of a forest an owl watches nigh
Floating snowflakes swivel, they are falling here and now    
while our little feathered friends, tweet their little sighs

Frosty light caresses, cardinals of red  
gently falling snow in the morning light
Bushy eyed white owls tufted in the snow
black and white woodpeckers,
peck and taps, alongside knock knock marks

Fairy spirits floating, dancing all about  
in a  magical cathedral, pure and pristine white
here the birds have silver tips and honey colored eyes
they always land in softly, with the cadence of the light.

I bequeath to my heart none else then pure love
and in the meantime all that is me around me and inside me  
I entrust to my Father in heaven;
Each and every thought I think, all feelings I insip
I bring forth to the alter of His mercy;  
I pray for strength and understanding, by the settle of my night  
May He send forth His Angels of  consort
and help me to attain a fitful sleep
as I breathe slowly and deeply, into the arms of love .
Amen!

Night roses dipped in purkinje, tendencies of blue
lost inside this dream I urge the winds to carry me
onto the hammocks of the night where antic roses lie,  
moonlit soaked and mulched aside a big blue moon ;
Festoons of flowers strung across the midnight sky
scented boutonnieres for Saints and Gods  
Angel wraps and gauzy shawls caressing softly stars
lost in a shimmer high above the sea , I am nigh
In exploration I am closing in, onto sweet allay
loosening the strings of yearn for my turtle dove  
here in home sweet heaven, timeless as a rune  
soaked in purkinje, eternally making room.

Nostalgia is a longing for a person or a place that evokes happy memories.  Its an  
Oasis for the soul that harbors in the center of our hearts and draws us back to the
Safe haven of our most sacred places.  It contains the pull of an all familiar feeling;        
Territorial as a tug boat in the sea  it has the ability to transport us without notice
Across the miles of our present, into the deep abyss of our past.  It is often said that
Love is always remembered by the way it made us feel, and places by their scent;  
Granny's peppermint candies and mother's garlic sauce, are two precious memoirs    
I often go back to my first teachers  and lose myself in recollection of home. It was  
An era of youthful abandon.  Golden days full of spirited living and so much love.

I long for the faces of those that I love
the laughter the hugs of beautiful kids
Victorian teacups, & lacey white gloves
an epicure diner, beneath bubbling lids

I hope for a feast with a good ending year  
less tears more smiles, in all that I hold dear  
May the good Lord fasten and note my request
then offer up blessings to Mothers of best  

On this special day may all Mothers be told
love is a flower that blooms with May showers      
Mothers are worth more then silver and gold
when it comes to love they hold all the power  

Its Mothers Day so let her know you love her  
not for a day, not for a month, but forever...
Copyright © Mystic Rose Rose | Year Posted 2021

Detailing leaves of golden spiff
I lean up close to take a whiff
of turmeric colored leaves sublime
and skies of ruby reds sweet wine
Engaged upon the breeze my touch  
awaits the pinnacle's non such;

Sharing space with a painters brush
I sketch a new horizon's rush
on a canvass ****** without blotch
envisioned scenes of yellow scotch      
while up above  the skylark soars
on sweet November's wing adore

Inhaling salt and sea I breathe
the very things of me that seethe
embroiled in art to hearts content
I hear falls bitter sweet lament
she doesn't want to touch the snow,  
nor lose her natural bronzing glow.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dwNtosYbYiA

You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep my faith will stand
And I will call upon Your Name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Where do you come from little rose of blush  
you, who was never owned by anyone but me
oh singing bird of thrill how easily you shush
when conscience leaves my side I am not free
When guilt devours me whole you go in hiding
like a wounded child that often goes to play  
oh litigator of my heart I was born consigning
to life's  passions, as they happened me away
Whence forth  this solid mind I will constrain  
from thinking out of line for sake of heart
oh soul of beauty please forgive my reign
in my old age I realize, what is your part
You,  are the part of me that makes me whole  
the conscientious side of me, oh,  my soul!

December 11, 2020

One day we'll all go to the other side of the world
where the moon is launched near the stars unfurled  
We will assemble in the hubble of the milky way
and find no trace of earthly bodies in this mainstay;
We will hover inside the palindrome of heaven's loft
restructure like dancing orbs of light, bouncing off
the walls of the sky, born to never be born or die;
One day we will escape this crusty earth of touch
and leave for a place where we don't need a thing
No surgical headlights to see the cavity of man
no scalpel to fix a little girl named, Marianne
We will find our loved ones smiling on the other side
they will be the hinges on the door that leads inside
Exhilarated and free we will shine softly in the night.
as if we were the only light aglow, far and out of site .

Over by the corner the bandstand plays on
next to the cotton candy wagon and the clown
Its a circus act full of people and acrobats
and tallish men on walking wooden stilts

One tiny red balloon dots the sky as I espy  
juggling acts leading to the garden path
it ain't over until the fat lady sings
so I better not dally, I need a glass ring

Fire eaters and sweet ladies that stretch
ventriloquists with two sided mouths
magicians that stage with props, and coins
cats on tight ropes, hawkers and escapists

Silver hoops and fast delivery guys
life is changing right before our very eyes
Give me the candy but don't tell me lies
of course I want the red balloon, untie!

"Professor Scarpnell  you are wanted on the phone" says an automated voice coming out of the message system. He slips the disk into the back of his neck and listens carefully to the instructions he is about to input  
Twenty four hours later all over the world  there are  people diving into water  searching for something that will change the world for good.
In a circular library sits an old librarian who has never left the City since the day she was born. "Off to pack my little bag" she says as she re-aligns a bobby pin gone askew.  At home she eats her modest egg then goes to the bedroom to search for her overnight bag.  
In another corner of the world Jim a retired fireman is peeled to the television watching the news. It appears that the virus has mutated and spread across the land faster than  the speed  of light. For the umpteenth time he wishes the department hadn't served him his papers and retired him like an old dog. At the age of fifty he is still fit as a fiddle. The phone rings at cutting edge and a green horizontal line appears.  Jack hears 'four' imprinted words....
                                     " IT'S IN THE WATER " .
He packs his shrapnel bullets in the lined compartment of his bunker gear then offers up a diluted prayer to the Gods of Technology for their systematic and safe state of weaponry.
Its a cool evening in Venice and the October wind has twined itself around the gondolas like an old friend.  Autumn  is a time for customary dishes and as the staff works diligently  in the kitchen, Chef Marco Battalione  catches up on paper work.  He opens an email from an unknown source asking for a reservation for seven on October 18,  7pm . Included is an e-transfer of $5,000 euros.
"I will need a private room where we can talk in absolute privacy  without the threat of being overheard.  The menu I leave entirely to your discretion.  I will arrive shortly after diner to introduce myself to the guests at hand.   Please do not try to contact me at this email address.  It is now obsolete for  reasons of confidentiality and for the  safety of all persons involved. "
Marco is stumped by the audacity of this person. When he realizes that  because of the restrictions on restaurants caused by COVID, he has
lost most of his income. He knows that he can ill afford to refuse such a generous offer. Setting aside a stack  of  bills, he begins to plan a menu fit for a King and Queen. With a red felt pen he  circles the date on the calendar, then pours himself a drink.  He raises a glass to the neon lights echoing over labyrinth streets and canals, and says "Salute"  

to be continued...

Lori Jones McCaffery 2d

Every morning I kneel and pray
For the needs of other people.
But nobody prays for me.
Fourteen ways my body fails
And my mind is failing too.
Yet nobody prays for me.
My needs are on the bottom shelf
I carefully set it up that way.
So nobody prays for me.
I thought I was invincible
But my needs outweigh my strength.
Won’t somebody somewhere pray for me.

The Response:  By Mystic Rose

I see you on that bottom shelf
and wonder what made you think
that you belonged there, my child.
I watched you carry them all on your shoulders
those Columbuses of a war torn world *  
Yes you pray for them, but who prays for you ?
Know that I am the one who by the touch  
of my hand, can make you whole again.
As I brush your soul against mine,  
I set you higher than the Angels of heaven.   
I am that silent prayer in your heart
that invisible shield that protects you  
Just think of me  
and I'll be there beside you.   
"Bottom Shelf" ? no not there, go ahead take my hand,
I will pull you up close and personal, " Top Shelf"
that is where you belong.

Our God is bountiful because he knows no measure to the love He has for us  
doting in the wings like a Father  regardless of our Faith in Him or not
He endeavors to protect us from above
as if we were the only stars in His galaxy;
There are days when we feel like we ate the paupers last meal
and there are times when we don't have the strength to rise above
Still, He is a God of continuance and doesn't ask much from us
pouring out every drop of compassion and mercy upon our souls  
he fills our empty cup and breaks bread, for  the sake of nurturance ;  
Regardless of our vision or lack of it, he sees us through
Our God is bountiful because,  
He created the earth and filled it with un-barren fruit  
so we could have life on earth  
and live in His abundance, until our sweet homecoming.  

November 14, 2020

Let us stretch our stillness with a moment of meditation
reach our true potential, by calming the mind's  queries
Find a place where you belong and build your cradle
into the creases of time , rock forward into motion;
Send the noises over to the other side of the room
then invite silence in to soak your senses for a while
Place your instinct in the doorway of procreation
and leave your beliefs ajar, there is always a maybe?
When we think that life has closed its passage on us
we are mistaken, it is only gearing us to higher ground
to a better place where we can discover hidden strength  
Hear the song of the heart it is  yours all yours my dear
Stretch your stillness beyond your imagination and
find a concrete thought that will tell you the truth
you are not alone, you live in communion with others
here on earth, and in heaven, both contain,  YOU !

She made me my first reticule when I was ten years of age
cutting an empty javex container she basketed the base  
then used her crochet to knit the yellow phentex into a purse,  
including a string to gather and hug the curve of my hand;  
In that moment , she taught me how to treasure things
and put them inside soft places  
where they could be hidden, from the rest of the world;
My mother, my confident, my first best friend,  
stitched to my heart the memory of her actions
as I the soakant in souled her like a kiss  
Inside the satchel I kept an Avon sachet, "basket of scented violets"
and the memory of those blessed hands.
If I close my eyes I can still recall the statue that sat in our living room
Our Lady Of Fatima
Three elective children, The Leonardi Clan" praying the rosary on plastic covered couches;  
Mom was our compass of faith, as we prayed,
I thought of my little pouch, and all the treasures I stored inside.

October 18, 2020

Encapsulated in a world of duty and obligation
I see no room for fantasy or imagination
no wind of September
can ever dismember
the longing I feel for illusion, fantasy and excitation

Only the stars of heaven can throw me a rope
at night when I sleep, its the only time I cope    
the moon  
is my woon  
up there in the sky its the only thing that floats like hope.

September 23, 2021

September hues of school day smiles and bran new leather bags
creative minds as young as baby figs with eager hearts of lore  
My days were full with mischief makers and bragging scalawags
but as the evening fell it was dad and I and paper planes galore

Lined creased papers pressed against father's smoky fingers strong
a wide tooth grin that said it all, while folding them in Ludwig style
Symmetrical wings shaped at the edge to fly through standby throng      
inside a backyard airfield 16x24, .. we launched then bridged a mile

One was  shaped like a prayer mantis one was fashioned like a jet  
homework waited as we glided through a glide-path then a runway
Aerobatic landings that were much more thrilling, then a Lego set
oh the wanders of those days when we both knew, how to play.  

August 13, 2022

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PF23EtYwvMs

There lives a touch of the Divine inside my soul tonight
and as I surrender to its peaceful ways  I begin to awaken gently  
I am a wayward soul in need of Godlike essence,
a Seraphic beauty that unties with every silent prayer.  
My heart allows the inner flow of the Divine to intervene,  
as scented thoughts penetrate and perfuse, I meet my Divine
muse;
In this quiet paradise for one I am connected to all beings
and all beings are connected to me, through love.
Tonight the incense shall burn inside this ancient kiln
"Yarim Tepe"... softening the edges of my emotions,  
like a Divine emollient, and turning me to softer shadows;
The sound of inner peace shawling, I breathe  
and as the soul meets the night, my dreams take flight
In this Divine journey of discovery, I am content
to co-exist, aside its beautiful liquid golden light.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6__SoXlDf8

UNIVERSAL THOUGHTS ARE RISING TO MEET  YOU AT THE CROSSROAD OF YOUR BEAUTIFUL JOURNEY . ALLOW YOUR MIND TO NAVIGATE FREELY OF ITS OWN ACCORD, TOWARDS THE  PATHWAYS OF YOUR SOULFUL HEART.   (BREATHE )
BRIDGE YOUR CONNECTION AND ENTER THE CITRINE ROOM OF YOUR OWN ACCORD.  THERE YOU WILL FIND THE GEMSTONE OF YOUR CHOICE. BE IT AMETHYST, FOR HEALING, BLUE SHAPPIRE FOR INNER VISION , OR JADE TO PROTECT YOUR LOVING HEART ENERGY.   (BREATHE )
RELEASE YOUR WORRIES AND PLACE YOURSELF IN THE MOST CAPABLE HANDS OF THE ONE WHO LOVES YOU BEYOND TIME AND SPACE. SHE  GAIAM , EARTH GODDESS, IS INTERCONNECTED  WITH ALL LIVING THINGS IN ALL ITS NATURAL ORDER.  EMBRACE THE BEAUTY OF THE GARDEN AND SEED YOUR THOUGHTS ON FERTILE GROUND  (BREATHE )
WATCH AND BREATHE WATCH AND BREATHE, LOOK AND SEE, LOOK AND SEE,  EVERYTHING AROUND YOU IS SPACIAL AND GOOD, EVERYTHING BREATHES AS IT SHOULD FLOAT ATOP YOUR SENSES AND ENJOY THE PIVOTAL MOMENTS OF YOUR UNPHYSICAL BODY. (BREATHE)
ALIGN YOUR SPIRIT TO THE STARS AND GLIDE INTO THE LIGHT.  ONCE YOU ARE SPIRITUALLY AJUSTED TO LIFE'S FLOW, YOU WILL FEEL BALANCED AND MOST COMFORTABLE.
RECEIVE THE GOD GIVEN DIVINE ENERGY THAT HAS BEEN OFFERED TO YOU.  DURING THIS TIMELESS JOURNEY YOUR HEART REMEMBERS WELL.  YOU ARE NOW READY TO COMPLETE THE MEDITATION WITH A POSITIVE AFFIRMATION "I AM DIVINELY LOVED"

Alleviate your burdens like the faithful swans of grace
come into her garden its full of flowers, light and lace
God has given her the gift of ethereal imagery
and blessed her Holy hands for all eternity

Angelic music wafting from a magical harp
dusted rosy skies of pink and baby blue
as the angel strums beneath God's heavenly tarp
the swans are drawn in closely, sidled two by two

A wonderous healing happens in this natural space,
as delicate birds of wander fly from place to place;
Serenity, tranquility with every stroke of soft and slow
the artist's soul reveals itself, and then begins to glow.

Written by: Mystic Rose

As I quiet my mind
and press my ear softly to your pillow
my heart recalls
the lovely tune you once made up for me;
While the crickets
trill against my window
I recall ,  
The sonant sound of your voice
and those sweet kisses,
beneath the willow tree  .

She's like the essence of a coral rose
a latent bloomer with a heart of gold
And when she speaks to me in prose
deep inside, she opens doors of old

Rosy cheeked and full of vitality
a thriving blush in my garden of love
Infused with life and immortality
she's been sent from up above

A rose by any name will always be so neat  
like cupid wings when flown across the sky
Filled with ample beauty she's replete
soft and mellow, like a gentle sigh  

She's the perfume of my scented days,  
perfect and valuable in every way.

a pixie dust allusion on fairy wing profusion
a cranberry wreath on a child of bequeath

a touch of grace on a deer soft as lace
a lantern slow beam on a forest gleam

in a world of gilded fantasy, we are poetry
in a world of innocent dreams their coterie

in a fairy world of love we are impearled
in a moment of creative enfold we're gold

an incandescent light at the end of a forest
one touch of mercy and suddenly we're blest.
  
Copyright © Mystic Rose Rose | Year Posted 2021

secret flowers hidden in my chest
ever day I wake up to do my best
the prayers of yesterday still linger
on my distracted, rolling fingers
a sacral image tattooed with Grace  
etched upon my heart, Christs face
no denomination here, just love
properly suiting me like a glove;
Sanctity cannot be seen but can be felt,  
a deliquesce thing that comforts, melts.

When it comes to all my sorrows
what do I do with them
Do I place them in a paper cup
and pour them down the sink
Do I take a mallet to them
and pound them soft as mink
When it comes to all my tears
where do I bring them?
Do I bring them to the sea
to merge with salty smears
Do I offer up my wailings
to the God above?
When it comes to all my sadness
what can take them all away?
Do I grin and bear it with a grin    
then walk away on feet of clay  
or do I pray for better days,  
hoping that ,He'll lead the way.

Clean vessels made of snow and powder dust
softly lifting from the gaze of the wind
Gentle hands rising towards the heavenly realm
Soft as the rain on a spider web in the early morning dawn
silky as the waters of the Meridian sea
Song of the lark reaching across the meadows of your mind
even the angels are grazing the portals of human kind  
Eyes wide open, heart agape, soul enamored
mala beads gently clacking awakening the presence
into the field of green we go to find the burnished ambers
of yesterday's lifetime glows
where we will end up , nobody knows
and so the feeling grows, and so the feeling goes
into those beautiful vessels of ours,
made of powder dust and snow.
Purity of mind, a precious find...

Let's put CHRIST back into Christmas and steer towards the season without fear  
with no distraction of any kind to take us away from the LOVE gift he proposed
Superfluous  gifts with money tags are of no use this year so we better adhere
to the treasure of His birth, a birth that was so dear that even the camel posed

Lets cook good food, gather our children to our *****  and give them hope
light your candles, use your best china,  tomorrow is only a promised wind
Laugh at yourself a little,  God knows you need it, its a great way to cope
be as kind as you can be, use your empathy for those who's hearts rescind

Bring the tinsel to your front window show the world that you are a believer
Christ was the light of the world and still is today, he was never a deceiver
Send Christmas cards in abundance this year, and open your heart to LOVE
it is the only gift worth giving and receiving, ...for its a one size fitted glove

Let's put the CHRIST back into Christmas and remember our parents rule,  
if you don't realize by now its not about the gifts, then go back to school.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE
LETS SALUTE THE HOLY SON..

WHEN THE SUN SETS ON YOUR TIRED EYES AND THE WORLD
AS YOU KNOW IT HAS TURNED FROM GOLD TO EVENING AMBER,  
RETRIEVE IN THE CHAMBER OF YOUR THOUGHTS AND THINK OF ME;
REMEMBER THE LAUGHTER WE SHARED ON OUR WAY TO THE LAKE
THE BRUSH OF A LEAF AGAINST YOUR CHEEK,
THE CARESS OF MY LOVING EYES EASILY SLIDING
TOWARDS YOU , LIKE THE DAWN SLIPPING INTO A NEW HORIZON,  
MAKING OUR WORLD THAT MUCH BETTER ...
WHILE THE FISH SWAM IN THE GURGLING RIVER WE FISHED
SIDE BY SIDE, HEART OF VELVET SKIN OF HYDE
TWO LOVERS LOSING THEMSELVES IN THE MOMENT
WHEN THE SUN LOWERS DOWN FROM THE PAVILLION SKY
REMEMBER HOW MUCH I LOVED YOU AND ALWAYS WILL
WHEN THE NIGHT ARRIVES TO SIT ON YOUR WINDOW SILL
REMEMBER TO THINK O ME,  AND BE STILL.

I remember in her eyes the color of Christmas day
and the taste of melted butter in the early morning sun
The cadence of her voice, the undertone sounds
of her silences,  it was long ago

She was a matriarchal mountain of energy back in days
when her hair was colored red and her cheeks pummeled pink
Decadent cakes for Christ's birthday accompanied by her own
we ate cake with eyes aglow

Then in the eve of midnight, we unwrapped
secrets that were handed down from family tree to family tree
prepping our dreams we slept without the know
that Christmases of future would hold no mistletoe

I remember her eyes two melting Chocolates,  
and the sound of her laughter was like rippled layers of agate.