When people die
Their shadows still play
In the playground of the sun
This playground accepts
All shadows
It has since time begun

There was a poet on HP
Who had alot of ♡
He tried to stay
     out of the fights
He kept himself apart
He had a love of poetry
He lived for his art.

Talented, he made "the grade"
As "minded" poets do
But he didn't try
     to "people please"
And so mean writes
     eschewed.
When he encountered
     "lesser lights" he didn't
     make them blue
But put ♡s on them as well
For their hearts were true.

Time went by... how it did fly!
As if given wings!
He found he had "The Daily"
(When there was
     such a thing)
He tried to READ all poets
     but could not, everything...
So he decided just to read
The small group
     within his ring.

He would NOT be purchased.
He would NOT be sold.
He was TRUE to his beliefs
Of his Faith quite bold.

Not only did he ♡
He gave "thumbs up" as well!
He reposted and was good
In fact, the man was swell!

He had a grateful following
But, as fate is wont
He couldn't keep up
     with the load...
Found his health was shot
But he tried to be a light
He tried to give folks thought.

His readership got smaller
It seemed like every day.
He still tried to be genuine
And true in every way
But nobody wanted
     him no more
He began to fade away...
Where the
     rubber hits the road
He began to PRAY.

If you don't know
     who this is,
Replace the "he" with "she"
She believes
And truly grieves

That poet would be ME.


♡ Catherine

Tempest waves began to rise,
engulfing the breath of a lovers heart.
Luscious energies rose where by kiss
catapulted him into a vortex-
A maelstrom, where drowning
in her greatness was a pleasure.  

Bliss covered them both in a timeless place,
their vessels continued to float
tasting the ripples of each others forms.
There they stayed in dreamscape reality,
as morning sun graced the sky,
and heartbeats joined as one.

Poetry, is the music that tickles my ears inside a birds tune.
The wind that hugs a creative poets mind.
Poetry, is the sun at dawn, that graces sky to usher in morning thoughts.
A gift that becomes bridge as scribe is builder and reader can stroll.
Poetry, is the gift that illuminates ones passion,
to bring all closer inside oneness.

Secrets of a poet are hidden inside heartbeats,
ready to be played on scripted page,
on platform for readers eyes.

They're buried beneath scar thought to be healed.
Exposed to bleed once again
so a poem can be birthed.

Perhaps, Secrets are inside rays of sun
that dance with kaleidoscope beauty
inside a warm breeze.

Or on top of a shooting star moving in galaxy
that opens one to wish inside a breathe.

Secrets in treasure chest of scribes vault
welcomes a readers eyes
with key-like words and strong intention.

Come, open the vault with eyes and partake
wont you?  The invitation is now given.

Catch the magic.
Catch the dream.
Catch the heartbeat,
that radiates within
and dance, dance, dance.

For me....

my words are housed in a treasure chest of heart. They enhance inside breath to give life to what would normally be a naked page.

For me words are backdrop for an amazing life filled with trials and tribulations. A place where I standing knowing I'm eternal and can't fail.

For me my words are little blessings that dance like fairies anointing the moment in third eye. Celebrating the birth of realities inside phases.

And as I dance, words surface to be sanctified inside a moment
A moment where I am grateful for my poetic words that sings.

Inside a celestial highway I wandered. Head up in the stars, navigation system of heart aligned with beauty My body felt lighter jumping onto visions of my third eye. The trees whispered in wind to assist in take-off. The moment in breath exploded to drift with angels inside blessings. Soon I found myself in a paradise filled with wonder and admiration. A paradise, I a traveler in human form did take.