"abade" poems
There's a place in my heart where an apple tree grows.
On warm Sunday afternoons my soul rests beneath it's unwavering shade,
And there amongst the long sweet grass my fears and sorrows all just seem to fade.
How it got there, what it's for, no one really knows.
Strangely still, the ground around it strangely, somehow glows.
But it's bulky bossom and entangled arms keep my worries abade.
And when I reach to pick an apple from it's gentle depths I simply make a trade.
One bite into the golden globe and one bad memory just goes...
It's stands solemn and contright beside the sands of time,
And from there the surreal sea of dreams just stretches on and on,
Merging with the sky as it disappears beyond.
On the branches of my hope there hangs a tickering chime.
And when it sings it's time to go, it's time to say anon.
There's a place in my heart where and apple tree grows of which I'm pretty fond.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
The cinder longs burn after flame expires
A dim reminder of long past fires
As nostalgic warmth of embers glows
The biting chill of winter slows
A smile as cinders begins to fade
Knowing the cold you must abade
Seasons change and flames do flicker
Times shall pass with skin made thicker
Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 3:47 PM UTC
I danced with worlds, mid clouds of dreams
When I was young and you were sage
Imagination weaved in streams
Painted paeans for freedom's age
Cross jungles, waterfalls of joy
We skipped with wanton, childish glee
Dreaming, rocking to a fro
Loving seismically
Till the man shot me
My mortal carapace decayed
Became nature again
Back in the soul's truest abade
Where minds are one and zen
And how did you go on and cope
Me dear, gone from your den
Offensive they rank rude intrude
Upon the Peace we found my friend
Because the man shot me
I can't explain well but in time
My energy gestate
Became presence celestial
All light and love, no weight
The center of my heart lived on
In a bonny babe anew
Born in 1991
When Berlin's freedom grew
No shots can stop me
She a lover drift in dream
A playmate of cherubs
Who drift in streams upon a beam
Aura arrests and grabs
Year to year she grew afraid
Doth yet perceive the cynic's trade
And will for Love insatiate
No shot stopped her living like me
She grew a heart comely and plump
Like the marrow Thoreau craved
As through the wilds of life she tramps
Not wont to behave
Bears Love aloft, cherubic lamp
Through her the passion rave
Hearts for heroes; guns for knaves
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 4:53 AM UTC
"Rapture" is what we feel -
The Bliss - the sheer cascade -
Love - eclipse - the sorrow -
Lo - the soul's abade -
"Rapture" is all we hear -
The Beatitude - the Hymn -
Wherein Passion's kingdom -
Lo - a dwelling solemn -
"Rapture" is all we know -
Instinct - surpass - Reason -
Her art suffice to save the soul -
From Devil's liaison.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 2:22 PM UTC
Why is thou, my Muse, bereft of care,
For all that my Heart doth hold in esteem?
To take a risk, perchance, to dare,
I divulged the diamond of my dream,
Of kin hearts united by love's native genius,
That knows not church or nation,
To labour for her treasure is a task grievous;
For she is meant to give with no ration.
Yet thou dost insist on our being cleft,
A fuel to incessant infatuation,
I give my Heart till there's nothing left,
In hope of effecting persuasion.
But to thee no plea can e'er be made,
Thou dost dwell in the jaded cynic's abade.
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 5:18 AM UTC
Upon her wings like Mockingbird,
Swinging sweetly to beleaguered babes,
Admits us to her Heart's herd,
Lo - the soul's sweetest abade,
A beatitude that makes me calm,
Bring joy and happiness,
Enveloping me in care to protect from fear, of harm,
A creature of most affecting tenderness,
To us, you will be always near,
Your light shrouds the sun and moon,
Your memory stokes not little tear,
But is a thought on which all heart's can swoon,
Angel of Peace, thy heart is true,
Proof of God's art in the creation of You.
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 4:48 PM UTC
Upon a wizened ancient lyre Harps music of irrepressible allure Suffice to set the soul on fire With supreme reflection pure Troubador of the city floor Irresistible tune to cherish and adore Fluent in melodies of magor and minor No magic no fires of heaven could outshine her Prophets clamor to hear her and wine her She like thee a mystery Riffs and riddles on the gems of history myth and magic her mind's geography love's philosophy her theosophy her psalms beget by ear wise trophy which ne'er decay or wilt or atrophy beget thy sweet and sonorous bars WHICH DREAMS OF HEAVEN AND SINGS TO THE STARS in harmony with the cosmic serenade in which the soul's truest abade balladeer a renegade who told the truth because it paid to not put one's soul up for trade a passion in love's furnace made oh to listen in the dappled shade my mind waltzes with the lilt you have replete lilt to the hilt song stirs flowers sunk in silt they sway and sigh and soar and wilt sensuous and attuned to the song that doth ring around the earth up and along raising the sound of the world in the throng for half the world away is tianneman square or hong kong
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 1:39 PM UTC