My Poetry, My Thoughts, My Life

STARS​

The stars are translucent; ​

tartan images burst from shade to sun​

applauding.​

I am lost in ovation, ​

breathing sky and resonating movements that I can​

never win.​

How they lose their radiance when falling​

ebony to ivory, as points of ballet dance​

across the stage.​

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 distillation​

lighting the very core of time.​

But who has ears to hear?​

Who sits among the stalks​

listening to the creak of growth,​

the crystallization of each new cell,​

enraptured,​

convinced​

that life conquers all?​

They stream into our eyes​

pouring ambrosial essence,​

lean light,​

pure and natural passion.​

They nurse the soul​

of this belaboured age,​

singing a silent song -​

once heard,​

they sweep the sky's wide towers​

heaving lakes with ease into the blue,​

filling children's eyes with stars,​

and breathing joy's pearled kiss​

into each welcoming ear.​

Who listens to flowers?​

Flowers listen to flowers,​

as do trees, laughing clouds,​

rivers, lakes, and all​

the glowing world unseen​

within poet's hearts,​

within those who simply take the time​

to listen.​

​

​

The Wise Old Tree​

Within 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 therein​

to 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 shelter​

from 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 indeed​

once also a sapling, before that a seed.​

Tales From a Passing Cloud​

I 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 greet​

their friend the sky.​

Deep oceans, ​

dressed in green,​

garnished with silver ​

shoaling fish, and​

rippling waves, ​

like horses running home.​

I see Mother Earth ​

who binds us fast ​

in a whirl​

of 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 tears​

in a scalding cascade​

of bitter rain.​

Fairies​

The 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 Rain​

You had to go and that is understood.​

Things just weren’t right here for you.​

The feeling you have given me​

Has left me alone, standing alone.​

I’m almost certain that you can see.​

During your absence it has given me time​

To think of ways I can escape this.​

To run away from the pain.​

Nothing ever seems to work​

It’s almost like a never ending rain.​

With you there and me here standing alone​

I worry for the day to come​

The day when we are further apart​

You 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 day​

And 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.​

*My mom is going through a tough time right now. I've never seen her like this. We moved from Pennsylvania to South Carolina last March. Since then are lives have drastically changed. Now she and my dad have split up and she's back in PA, along with my brother and two sisters. So it's just me and my dad now. There's not much I can do for her, but I promised her that I would take care of my dad. He seems to need the most help out of all of us. I'm the one who always is there for anyone, I can handle the most and changes don't effect me much. Sorry, I know this is for poetry and I'm going on about my life right now and I don't really know anyone here but I had to get this out...​

Dream With Me​

I lie on the ground in a cold empty world​

Dreaming of winter's lament​

The moonlight shines on the side of your face​

Your expression is one of content​

"Listen," you say with your eyes deep in mine​

"I hear nothing," I admit in reply​

You continue to start with nothing to say​

Then you turn and look at the sky​

"Wait," I gasped, with trembling hand​

nd I turned to face behind​

It was darker than dark as I struggled to see​

What was troubling my mind​

Blinded by light, a whirlpool of white​

I could not tell where I was​

My mind was racing in circles around​

I couldn't get rid of the buzz​

We were no longer there, I recalled, when I woke​

But I couldn't grab hold of my mind​

Bright spinning colors appeared in my eyes​

I was floating as if in rewind​

A haze of euphoria took me away​

As I struggled to gain all control​

A rainbow of sound blazed through my ears​

As I flew into a dimly lit hole​

A big purple man appeared up ahead​

Growling like a dog with no care​

Big green teeth and orange-red eyes​

And blue where there should've been hair​

I felt the great teeth gnawing my bones​

The confusion of bright purple sound​

My eyes were stained with flashes of light​

And suddenly, back on the ground​

She smiled at me as I woke with a start​

And gave me a small kiss goodbye​

I asked her to stay as she got on her feet​

But she left as a tear filled her eye​

​

 

When she said​

enough,​

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.

 

You 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.

 

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 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.