Who Listens to Flowers?They grow like little comets, blazing through the blackened soil,singing long-forgotten songs -songs of death's demise,of life's bright distillationlighting the very core of time. But who has ears to hear? Who sits among the stalkslistening to the creak of growth,the crystallization of each new cell,enraptured,convincedthat life conquers all? They stream into our eyespouring ambrosial essence,lean light,pure and natural passion. They nurse the soulof this belaboured age,singing a silent song -once heard,they sweep the sky's wide towersheaving lakes with ease into the blue,filling children's eyes with stars,and breathing joy's pearled kissinto each welcoming ear. Who listens to flowers?Flowers listen to flowers,as do trees, laughing clouds,rivers, lakes, and allthe glowing world unseenwithin poet's hearts,within those who simply take the timeto listen. The Wise Old TreeWithin the forest dark and deep, rooted firmly in the clay and sand,lives an immense gnarled wonder, a wise old tree...standing steep with voluminous trunk and many bands thereinto tell of his years; of all he has seen and heard. With branch-arms outstretched to the sky, "I am the voice for the rest" he cried.So many don't consider us really alive, but we hurt and we cry just like you, inside.We fear the storms of nature and life; we rejoice and are reborn. Come listen to the forests' tales, as do the winged birds soaring overhead.Hear the magical wailing whistle of the wind as it tousles my headdress,see the dark dense storm clouds sailing past, tune into the coyote's cry.Come sit underneath me -- feel my rootedness. Draw from me ancient knowledge amidst the whispers of the earth,and the supreme wisdom of the skies, I will tell you no lies,for I am, and you are, and we are worth...and I am just what you see, a wise old tree. Take that comfort with you when you have to go.Carry my strength back with you to the forest of cement, and lament no more!. Remember me adorned in tiny spring leaf buds, think of me in autumn's brilliant hues,and picture me with snow glistening atop my arms outstretched to you when feeling cold and alone.Envision me with face in full dress of green inside of summer's heat providing shelterfrom what can be a merciless sun. I will be one with you, I am nature's embrace...I am all seasons, I am season less, I am saving grace;a fortress solid and strong who, like you, was indeedonce also a sapling, before that a seed. Tales From a Passing CloudI see you all from here!Tiny ants, scurrying around in a chaos of your own creation.Each one too busy for the beauty in the world. I see great mountains, wearing snow hats, tipped to greettheir friend the sky. Deep oceans, dressed in green,garnished with silver shoaling fish, andrippling waves, like horses running home. I see Mother Earth who binds us fast in a whirlof fields and forests. But you, little ants, tear down forests and pollute seas. The sky is darkened and the stars dim to your touch. While we, the clouds, created to refresh the world, pass by, shedding our tearsin a scalding cascadeof bitter rain. FairiesThe moon has risen the sun has gone, The fairies come out one by one.The stars light their way through the weary night.They must get prepared for their untimely flight.The winter has come much too soon.They must flee this night, by the light of the moon. The days are cold, the nights just as bad.The fairies have lost what they once had.The warmth of the sun, the breeze of the night,Now they are desperate, fleeing by flight. Never Ending RainYou had to go and that is understood.Things just weren’t right here for you.The feeling you have given meHas left me alone, standing alone.I’m almost certain that you can see. During your absence it has given me timeTo think of ways I can escape this.To run away from the pain.Nothing ever seems to workIt’s almost like a never ending rain. With you there and me here standing aloneI worry for the day to comeThe day when we are further apartYou won’t be there in the coming year,To help me through things, but you’ll be in my heart. There is also a fear of being detached,Of being separate for so long.We have progressed through the years.The times we have shared merely brightened my dayAnd now all I can do is shed the tears. The hurt that I am feeling right now,I know that you can feel it inside.But I want you to remember that once it’s through,You’ll always be my mother,Someone whom I will forever look up to. Dream With Me I lie on the ground in a cold empty worldDreaming of winter's lamentThe moonlight shines on the side of your faceYour expression is one of content "Listen," you say with your eyes deep in mine"I hear nothing," I admit in replyYou continue to start with nothing to sayThen you turn and look at the sky "Wait," I gasped, with trembling handnd I turned to face behindIt was darker than dark as I struggled to seeWhat was troubling my mind Blinded by light, a whirlpool of whiteI could not tell where I wasMy mind was racing in circles aroundI couldn't get rid of the buzz We were no longer there, I recalled, when I wokeBut I couldn't grab hold of my mindBright spinning colors appeared in my eyesI was floating as if in rewind A haze of euphoria took me awayAs I struggled to gain all controlA rainbow of sound blazed through my earsAs I flew into a dimly lit hole A big purple man appeared up aheadGrowling like a dog with no careBig green teeth and orange-red eyesAnd blue where there should've been hair I felt the great teeth gnawing my bonesThe confusion of bright purple soundMy eyes were stained with flashes of lightAnd suddenly, back on the ground She smiled at me as I woke with a startAnd gave me a small kiss goodbyeI asked her to stay as she got on her feetBut she left as a tear filled her eye STARSThe stars are translucent; tartan images burst from shade to sunapplauding.I am lost in ovation, breathing sky and resonating movements that I cannever win.How they lose their radiance when fallingebony to ivory, as points of ballet danceacross the stage. Your Real You No, I do not fill my pen with the moondust and green lawns of my own mind when I dwell upon you, but in the limpid spring of your real you deep buried in your skin And the kind of tune I play is not what I want to hear (as you maintain), but the quiet sounds you are. The shapes of light I draw are not from my own sun, but from their source in you. I look at you not only with the tips of my hands, but with wide-open eyes and ears; it is not the idea of your smile I love, but your real smile lingering on honey lips and teeth I know cannot only kiss -- but also bite. So, if my pages are wrapped with rainbows, it is the iridescent effect that you had on me, you see, when your barbed wires dropped, and you showed me the gentle spirit in the tight-clasped fist. One Way Journey We have traveled deep, There is no return. Every bone of your frame has found its nook in mine, has caught cannot let go. Every turn of your jaw round mine has pushed us farther on the Carmel lane of pomegranate exchange -- from which there is no return. No words, no reason, no facts, no laws -- Can stop our journey now. Your hand in my hair planted twigs not roses, you whispered: "there are no roses around here but you." I kissed the twig-bearing hand as if it bore all the crowns, laurels, and flowers in the land. You are the garden where I dream full of trees, love and roses, the lake where I bathe among the beams of souvenirs. In the heart of my mind I again kiss the twig-bearing hand as if it bore the finest ring and richest chalet in the land. Broken Wings When she saidenough,the happy flight in his eye broke. She could hear the cracking of the bone, shedding of white feathers drooping on her flesh, fraying the corners of her soul. The engulfing of her hands in his did not bring back the glimmer in the blue, and one of the birds in the dense, trembling wood, the one with the happiest longest whistle, stopped its song. But the maiden with the green eyes and dark lashes, is not made to be a breaker of wings, she is made for song and for laughter, she yearns for the wings to flap again in delight in the blue, without breaking her own.