Nature's, autumn-layed
If befoul, I
These, its rooms, a child, across
Dashing, and spry
Tis with a mother's
Laughing consent.
Down through each shook treed rafter
Gustily sent.
I'd like to feel free,
As a bird on the wing.
Join a choir and gustily sing.
Read an exciting book,
Without being disturbed.
I could talk to myself,
Without being overheard.
Sit out in the garden,
On an old garden swing
Swinging up high,
As a bird on the wing,
Free as a bird,
That's how I would like to be,
Young and unencumbered,
Not ancient like me.
I am old now,
Have I lost my chance?
Certainly not, MY EYES CAN STILL DANCE?
Previously submitted January 2022
Mary possessed a ruminant child
its fuzziness was sickly pale
and as Mary moved about
the child would take the same trail.
He tracked her to a learning place
that broke the laws of it.
The kids each made a funny face
to observe the cause of it.
The instructor made him go
but he just hung around
and waited patiently, gustily
bleating when Mary he found.
We may never know why
he developed such a bond,
I think it was because of
the child she was so fond.
Mary possessed a ruminant child
its fuzziness was sickly pale
and as Mary moved about
the child would take the same trail.
Fashionable Fall flaunts her lustrous leaves,
catwalks flowing flora with earnest ease.
Haunting lullabies from the quaking trees
cast chilling currents from mountain to keys.
Dancing diamonds of glistening glow
show skies with promise of soon-to-be snow.
Sunrises and sunsets are a fireworks show
scattering the stars like dice in a throw.
Gowns of complementary colors trace
ribboned harvest fields at riotous pace.
Swirling with natural, elegant grace,
her glamor failing and fast losing face.
Tattered trees largely stripped bare of their clothes
leave a psychedelic pathway that flows.
With each rowdy breeze, it gustily blows,
and turns pale snozzle to a reddened nose.
With stinging, shallow breath and crimson cheeks
embrace lacy lakes and mountains’ paling peaks
till Winter steals through Fall and solemnly seeks
favor for upcoming ice-hearted weeks.
Near the fountain stands the male
In iridescent glory,
But his mate begins this tale,
A true Manhattan story.
These same ducks have made their home
Outside a high-rise building.
I see them swim or sleep or roam;
The truth requires no gilding.
This morning, early, as he waits,
The female, with intention
Of what she now anticipates,
Insists on prompt attention.
She marches right up to the door,
By which a doorman’s standing
And opens up her beak to score
The meal she is demanding.
In full regalia, he complies
And grabs a baggie waiting,
Then shoos some pigeons to the skies,
Their hope for food deflating.
He sprinkles breakfast for the pair,
Who gustily start eating
And I walk on so I can share
This urban morning meeting.
I'd like to feel free,
As a bird on the wing.
Join a choir and gustily sing.
Read an exciting book,
Without being disturbed.
I could talk to myself,
Without being overheard.
Sit out in the garden,
On an old garden swing
Swinging up high,
As a bird on the wing,
Free as a bird,
That's how I would like to be,
Young and unencumbered,
Not ancient like me.
I am old now,
Have I lost my chance?
Certainly not, My EYES CAN
STILL DANCE?
Faeries are dancing on top of the crusty snow
While the sunshine struts its way across the sky,
Especially those of us from the fairyland know
Nothing crystalline diamond glittering passes us by.
Thousands of points of light glistening on my lawn
Faeries are dancing on top of the crusty snow
Pirouetting endlessly from the first light of dawn
These magical creatures with faces all aglow.
They shimmer and sparkle wherever they go
Millions of them, these bejeweled creatures prance
Faeries are dancing on top of the crusty snow
Gustily, encouraging everyone to join the dance
Then, as the sun lowers itself in the far horizon
Just as quickly they vanish, whither they go
In my wildest fantasies I cannot begin to imagine
Faeries are dancing on top of the crusty snow.
written January 21, 2022
Love ignites passion that cannot be tamed
It's the spark that erupts into magical flames
It's breathing life into a sleeping soul
Its the feeling of losing daily control
It gives flight to broken down wings
It's the music to the voice that sings
It's the reason you wake up every single morning
It's the strength that keeps your spirits soaring
Love isn't just finding your one perfect mate
It's in loving life and ridding your body of hate
It's being present in every moment we are in
Appreciating and finding good in every human
Love is what puts that smile on your face
It's feeling at peace within our earthly space
It's so powerful that it spreads in gustily rushes
It's energy is catchy and will infect all it touches
So live life, love and you will be free
It will heel your body of all anxiety
You will see the world in all its beauty
Love my friend for all eternity.
SHE
IS
THE
WIND
She is the wind,
a warm gentle breeze on a cold day,
She is the wind
caressing your skin with a kiss
and the morning sun rips
through the weekend blinds
like an eclipse.
She is the wind
the forceful Jetstream across my heart
She is the wind
giving locomotion to the clouds
charging from the horizon
like marauding pirate ships
and she whips.
She is the wind
gustily moving through my body
She is the wind
a cold steel blade, how it rips
and love’s empty hands reach out
clutching but through my fingertips
she slips.
I gave you one thought today
That is a whole lot of me
For could be as divine as I pray
Imagine the power preceding
The utterance of the word
Every thought stitch together
Memory in sounds
And make words for each other
Where pictures for substance abounds
And I quite deliberately sat down
And gave you a whole thought today.
It was so much of me
For 360 seconds I held nothing back
All of me was yours
O it was such a silent world
I mean silence like a rock
I am not good at arguing such things
Lies must grow their own wings
And when they are gone
I often remember them like butterflies
Flitting from thought to thought
You never hear them
How gustily we come how silently we leave
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