To my Turtledove in residense.(1)

The Almond Tree of my garden.

Hiding gently behind my hanging baskets,curious ,well aware

On this very fresh,pure and lucid morning,I guess you unaware

Was scouting around the blue sky,well perched quite proudly upon

The branches of my rich “Almond Tree”,loaded with fruits anon.

Gentle Turtledove, you and I are blessed to be sharing,in our bosoms

With pride and joy,this holy instant perfumed by the almond blossoms,

That feeling of bonding made me suddenly aware that we could all

Enjoy these moments of closeness with each of those around us all.

You would agree gentle Turtledove,that warmth is a skill,alike love,

For sure,and should be spread around and shared around with love.

Capacities for magic powers of tolerance,acceptance,understanding,

Are there,imbedded cautiously within our soul and heart,hearing

The multitude of suffrance,despair,and injustice,upon then we could

Move mountains,all obstacles against all odds.Lending a hand would

Aliviate pains and incertitutes,stretching our magic powers we could.

Thank you my Turtledove

Geneviève

We all know the cracks between them are temporary, from downing a handful of happy-candy and flowers with a swig of chamomile tea, how only closing their eyes softly and the paralyzation of their body, pulling them and their body down the rings of Saturn can aliviate the scent of their own fear fighting WW2 in their veins, and the sound of humming from the television with a shattered screen... or what we call the voices of people in a large, congested crowd.

Too jealous to justify
I earnestly belived I could capture
These ever passing moments in time

And as each one falls past my fingertips
As coarse words fall from my unkempt lips
I only find myself cursing
The lucky few, for whom words are never amiss
And am left still rehearsing
Searching for a way to capture bliss

Too depressive for my own good
And far too negative
Tortured? No
That might imply I can be understood

Lightweight?
That's a bit closer I suppose
I'd ask you to do it
If I thought you would

Overblown and borderline
Constantly finding ways to undermine
To my detriment
To retreat or to repent
Or keep going
Down this beaten path I did invent

Ages pass

Years fly by

Days crawl on till there's hardly any time

Finite and dwindling

Ever draining supply

I still can't find a way to aliviate what's on my mind.


Might as well keep writing down
The same thing

...