Dandelions

They drift in the breeze
Bright petals swaying to a golden-yellow melody
Their fair hews blend together as one
Ones garden becomes a ray of sunlight, in dance
Moving to and fro with Mother Natures breath
In her ***** they rock
Their colours a precious gem, alive and unclaimable
Their sight like honey for the spirit
Their growth a gift from the soil, given freely and with joy
Beloved Dandelion

I love the sky in Spring, with all its beautiful hews.  
Deep pink and misty whites, and a plethora of blues.

I love the waters in Summer, the cool upon my face.
To sit and watch the water, like a dancer full of grace.

I love the trees in Autumn, and how they start to change.
Each leaf a color of its own., not one exactly the same.

I love the coldness of Winter, how you can see your breath.
But oh how quickly Spring will come again, upon Winter’s death.

History carves my sinews and hews my spine.
My menhir-body, my storybook of rock,
Speaks of the long fight. See my shoulders
And their scars, their battered stone edges;
They are sturdy footing on which to stand.
A fire-heart warms my earthen hands:
Saplings grow in the loam, seedlings sprout.
Magma-veined, spitting lava, I still rise
And will not fall. Heed my fury,
For I am one small mountain in a range
Stretching from the present to eras past.
Battles come and go; we remain.
Forests on our flanks, bears in our palms,
We will always be wild.

If I cried you a tear,
would you watch it fall,
would it write your name
in hews of black,
black like my heart since the day I left,
for we destroyed those rocks of old,
where we carved our vows in letters so bold,
such precious things have we let go,
into the realms of the waters so deep,
lost in the tides of the tears I weep,
your heart I hold in these withered hands,
fragile, protected and safe in their grasp,
for you my love I shall forever remain
locked in the sound of this sad refrain.

Could have wrote a whole book about you,
but instead all you get is this one poem,
and as lovely as you are you have all the signs of crazy,
so no this is not exactly a love poem,

it’s a lesson in the form of prose,
about abuse and about healing,
about hurting and learning,
and how we emotionally evolve,

post trauma no drama all problems solved,
no commas till Nirvana I am The Man Who Sold The World,

a young **** unplugged I’ve been through it all,
so I when she said she’d smack my mug I just  shrugged it off,

when I say She I mean You and that’s the truth I mean come on,

we were at the most beautiful view in Lisbon,
sitting together in the grass,
and I know I shouldn’t have mentioned Russia and Crimea,
but I’d swear I thought you asked,

alas,

could have wrote a whole book about you,
but instead all you get is this one poem,
and as lovely as you are you have all the signs of crazy,
so no this is not exactly a love poem,

it’s more of a heated horror story,
a heartwarming tale of cold shoulders,
written by the waning light of the summer moon,
the pen is the sword that hews the stone until the tablet is hewn,

I’m a poet I know this so I wrote this to you I just hope it’s not too soon,

could have wrote a whole book about you,
but instead all you get is this one poem,
and as lovely as you are you have all the signs of crazy,
so no this is not exactly a love poem,

this is a poem,
about learning not to care,
about being able to look someone right in the eyes,
and pretending like you don’t even care,

worse than pretending,
really not caring,
please I wanted you to bring some inspiration,
but all you brought was doubt and fear,

so I set you down,
as quickly as I had picked you up,
I let you go,
as quickly as I had held you close,

so,

so what,
you taught me not to care,
when I was feeling the most vulnerable,
is exactly when you chose to strike,

why?

I mean,
what happened to yesterday’s yesterday,
when we met under that wise old tree,
at that festival in Portugal,
where we feel so infinitely free,

where I invited you to spend time with me,
so we could together experience this miraculous creation called life simultaneously,

you’d accepted my invitation at the Oriental Station in Lisbon on that restaurant balcony,

I had asked where you were going,
and you’d said Madrid then back to Cypress,
I asked you why you were going back,
and you said you didn’t know,

so I invited you to a magical place called Sintra,
where we could have space to explore,
magical gardens with magnificent plants from the four corners of the world,
secret white sand beaches with just us the black rocks and the white sand,
castles in the sky and initiation wells winding into the earth,
drink from from the eternal springs which spring from the fountain of youth,

this is all true,
everything I’ve written here,

but you sabotaged this passionate plot before it even got started,
it started too fast I wanted a time out instead we ate at the Time Out Market,

I feel sick to my stomach,
I brought you to an angelic place to watch the sun set,
and what could have been a beautiful healing experience turned into nothing,
I feel sick to my stomach,

why have we done this,

why have we become this,

what can we take from this,

what’s the lesson from all this,

if you know please tell me,
because I haven’t got a clue,
and I’m as alone now as I was before I met you,
and I’m sitting here in my sorrows writing this sonnet staring at the waning moon,

and I could have wrote a whole book about you,
but instead all you get is this one poem,
and as lovely as you are you have all the signs of crazy,
so no this is not exactly a love poem,

it’s a lesson in the form of prose,
about abuse and about healing,
about hurting and learning,
and how we emotionally evolve…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

Entwined in soft hews her skin mimicked the place
She called her heart. This woodland paradise of
Older than human time. Flowers bloomed on her
Always in bloom her modesty hidden from eyes
That may pry upon her beauty.

She nurtured saplings in growth told them
Stories of the old, this made them nurture
The words into leafs and reach higher than
They were before. Her whispers encouraged
Them to yearn to touch the sky above.

She gathered her children in the air they
Skimmed upon the winds carrying them near
And far. Seeds that would each year do a pilgrimage
To the furthest reaches and seed the ground  with
Her words whispered "grow my children of earth,

As fragrant as flowers her beauty was of natures
Gestures, each moulded to what was seen by only
The animals and wondering folk who glanced
Mesmerised in service they offered to be guardians
Of this place of mother earth, where her children live.

The dissolution of days
Acquiring the malison of knowledge
Mollifying the darksome house
of mortal clay supprest in
The rack of night,
The punishment of the
tree of prohibition
Commissioned from up high,
Beer-barrel dust the souls alms!
Whilst the Maker'****** mourn
In earnest whom he
Hast vanquished as the
Seraphic Hymn, Heaven's
sacred song hews
the blue-blankets ingress
Before the gates of the
irrefrangibility of faith;
Agaze, an angeliferous black-job-
Edifications beatific vision
Held in the nest of Abraham's *****
peeling the bells of heaven
ricocheting throughout Hell
nigh the lands of time.



ELEETE J MUIR

Raw
Flesh collision
Hews the body
Lilliputian flecks coalesce
Dust motes cling
In dilapidated spheres
Dawn’s menagerie
Enunciating their form
In blatant form and elongated shadow

Accompanied by blushing hews
The darkest skies chase the magnificent sun to it’s watery grave
The ocean waves rage,
patiently awaiting the burning head as it submerges into the depths
The baby blues turn to royal shades
The gentlest pinks fade to sickly yellow
The ocean greens turn to harsh steel
And down dies the sun
Its accompaniment is now red
Red as blood
The moon usurps the sky and reigns over the stars
Its silvery gleam rains on the ocean waves
It rains over the sleeping multitudes of creation
I witnessed this all
I witnessed the colors merge into black
And I exult in the solitude and the splendor and the magnificence of the moon
In the peace of the waves as they crash
And I lift my eyes to heaven and thank the Lord of hosts that he has given such beauty to the start of each day

ancient aches in chains
contained in the howls and hyacinth
the breast of syntonic refrain

halcyon honey hews sentience
with peals painting elysian fields
saturated in nocturnal opalescence

eclipse echoes along cathedral aisles
cleansing heathens in fifth progression
anointment of epiphany reconciled

The Quest

Oft I ponder the quest that I have been delivered upon

Whilst laying in the midst of a field of straw

Mine eyes gazing in the sky with it’s hews of gold

Not far from here lies the battlefield

Forthwith there will be bloodshed and mayhem

But as I rest my weary bones upon the coolest of thine earth

Mind over matter is what I behest

Is it the goal to capture the king as in a game of chess

Am I the pawn sent out earliest to set the tone

For the rest of the game to follow

Or be the fortunate survivor having played a skilled match

My protector some unknown hand

Guiding my way whilst I traverse through an army ahead

Each step a calculated risk that could end in my demise

Somehow out of my control yet each of my moves

Dictating where this may all end

Devout to the King

But looking to create a new Queen

That will carry on the lineage I am here to shield

Thus I start my day

Andreas Simic©

It was good times the stillness the silence,
I was under a single tree, leafs fell but in
autumn colours. I was at peace in this
Serene place of my ideal thoughts.
No senses needed but what was around.

Words were silence, I had no need for the
Use of a living phrases in this place.
The leafs were like silk hankies flowing in
The air then evaporate in misty hews.
Peace I felt as I watched endless ones fall.

But then it happened the pulling, it affected
The leafs no longer silk but as they descended
Skeletal remains that screamed as they touched
The ground. My silence was like an echo now
Of before so much noise, I covered my ears.

But I felt, no longer the peace of death, my
Solitude now compromised with a yearning
To go towards the place that I resisted for so long.
Why did I have to leave this place of my yearning?
I was enveloped my serenity now gone.

I was silent, but then I breathed. so long had
I not needed this reaction. But realization
Began to sink in. I was born, I screamed out
Blinded in this moment of rebirth.
"I miss the silence of death, now I am reborn.

Swing sets and sunsets
both leave a bittersweet taste in my mouth
yet I still go running back to them
those rusty chains that hold up my world
and the pastel hews that surround a glass memory
both could come crashing down at any moment
but here I am again
running with a hope-filled heart
That one day I will be able to feel
like I did on that swing
with the yellow fading into orange
fading into pink clouds
fading into two blue eyes
fading into my soul

I will continue to run
until that swing set falls
and the sunset fades away
into the empty darkness
of an endless night

Chained to his rugged rock, Prometheus fumes.
He brought the gift of fire to mankind. Now
He must pay. The gods are not amused.
His is an act of defiance unbowed
By the threat of retribution. Unsoothed,
He faces his fate: to have ravens scour
His liver each day, then start up anew.
Like Sisyphus, punishment is his shroud.
He wears it regally: His will only hews
To its task; it cannot break; he stays proud.
His gift spreads across the globe. Only few
Turn it down. Man is equal to the crowd
Of gods on Olympus. They will strew
Their anger. But naught keeps this mortal cowed.