What sounds can I raise to let you feel what I feel
What word opens the skies and makes the stars soar into the
Sprinkling night
How can the Divine know how we struggle to join
Chanting what the monks and nuns have learned to sing
Trattato della vera devozione a Maria: or the Muslims call out
Allahu akbar and the Buddhist humming om
The excellence of the Divine cries out amidst the suffering
And perhaps the end of the earth, pray the universe survives
Perhaps to join together in all the mystic signs
Until we can unite again until we join as fellowmen
When we learn to sing
Finally it all comes to this hurdle of bones
bleaching now once with the rose red of living
tendons and bones
and the heart as it swings
with seizures and stings
and a tired fatigue so deep
that the body had sunken into the earth.
the humanists are attempting to being
mankind rummaging though life
through trash, cities and castles
maybe man will finish this
and there will be lavender
and rosemary--maybe--for we
have grown tired and our days
seem filled with sadness and pain
Its lavender that I seek, lavender and red roses.
wow my spell appt went nuts sorry late night.
The acrid smell is gone replaced by seaweed and salt
The crows have returned in the early mornings
Cawing and butting walnuts on the roof
Neighbors hide their cats — for quiet coyotes are hungry
Orphaned baby mountain lions are cuddled in rescue wraps
Horses put down, wildlife gone,
Eyes keep alert looking at the skies, the hills,
Beloved parks with pines, their tart scent of eucalyptus
The soft smell of lavender, the sweetness of sage-scarred
Still memories of burning nights snd falling ash remains
To stay or where to go, fires and floods
There are small pockets of flame hidden in the mountains
The skies now are blue the white fog has returned
Some days the smell of burnt smoking wood remains,
For the quiet land is damaged and feels a burning pain
When we are together, we are a sight to see – Sisters!
Things always seem just right when I can have with me – sisters.
One named Jennifer is nurturing and compassionate.
She was born after me; compatible are we sisters.
Melanie, who came second, is most charming of us all.
She and I together always make such carefree sisters!
Then came Dori, with a flair for writing the same as me.
Fifty-page letters we'd write! Dori made us three sisters.
Sensitive Theadora loves working out like I do!
She's the baby! I'm glad the five of us can be sisters!
Sept. 12, 2020 for Silent One's Ghazal Poetry Contest
Tinkling, twinkling, violin picking, harp stringing,
light the blue sky, the snow on rocky cliffs
the heaviness of his lies weigh like the rocks
on a cold empty hill in winter
the sounds thick and sticky
how the tinkling violin strings call out
the harps lightness raises my heart
and lightens the heaviness of his
spiteful soul stinging, while hearing News
twinkling sounds drive away his angry darts
Across the war torn atrophy,
A decomposing cracked corpse,
Shakes and splits in the sovereignty,
Of the rounded Earth which warps.
Annihilated by the angst of grouped race:
A false duplicitous spell,
Cast by the convention of crooked space,
Filled by the blackest of magic from hell.
Governance is but a season of treason,
To portent an enemy’s existence,
Denying the bond of unblind reason,
In order to mock the truth of resistance.
Robins once flittered in hooded cloaks,
To unveil the robes of thieves,
Whose crowns are but a farcical coax,
To control what the world believes.
Locked in this cyclical wheel of a hamster,
We pay our unwarranted dues,
With neither representation nor an answer,
To why we’re enslaved by you.
But then again a slave sees no master but the devil lashing a whip,
Which often slips from the grip of twits who dare disparage the blood that it makes drip.
How fickle the tick-tock trickle of skin flicked quick by tickles of thy tyrant’s trick,
Beware, dear brickhead politic, clocks can’t fuel fire when there’s no wick to stick.
walk through the doors to a new world.
To a place where your imagination runs free.
All the pictures on the wall just staring at me,
their bright colors they display, catch my eye in an instant.
Not just one floor of this great art,
there are three floors that open new doors for me.
Seems like this new world goes on forever.
Standing on the third floor feels like,
I am on the top of the world.
I love coming here after finals,
gives me a sense of relief,
I made it one more semester closer to graduation.
Many people do not view things the same way I do,
writing and art are a big part of who I am.
It is quiet and a great place to get away,
Closing the doors to outside influences of your daily life.
This place cleanses my soul so I can be free again.
Many people say they are just paintings hanging on the wall,
To me it is more then that.
It is a new story in every picture that hangs.
That screams out to you,
Like it knows your name!!
Everyone has strengths and everyone has weaknesses.
Some people are the same in the way they struggle.
Other people struggle differently.
Some struggles are bigger then others,
but my struggles are still my struggles.
Everyone has to find their own way,
in dealing with these weaknesses.
I struggle to turn my weaknesses into Strengths,
I am sure I will find a way eventually.
Knowing all I need is to keep searching for my strength within myself.
No matter how big or how small your struggles are,
Never give up on your struggles or they will defeat you!
I know this man who cared so dear
Who took the responsibility of another man.
He did not have to,
this is true.
But with a willing heart and a helping hand this man became my friend.
He was there when I needed a hug
Was not afraid to give you that pep talk
While he decided to stay and hang out.
I know he could have walked out.
For this, I am grateful to this day.
then something happened and it was not good.
Years went by and times changed
we went our separate ways .
Been awhile since we have talked
I found out your time was short
If I could help you in any way
I would give you that liver today.
I am just letting you know how much you mean to me
Before your time comes and I miss my opportunity.
There sat in my chair, a sighting
when the earth quivered no delighting.
Out the window I watched it flow;
down the grade, heaps, icy snow.
The mask of skiers not revealed;
rescue workers rushed in to unseal.
They scattered about with their tools in hand,
dug for life that had a plan.
In all that commotion I did see'
deep the emotion when skiers were freed.
when i met you you took
my heart and
then you tore it out
thinking you would
not hurt me but you did
you said you love me
i beg to differ
i gave you my heart
my soul my love
that time mistaken
for giving you a
heart worth breaking
but i did i cant go back
and change it it is done
i have to move on with
my life and forget about you
and all the ways you hurt me
i need to fix my heart and forget
about it im tired of being used
i thought i found the right girl
but i didnt i ended up being used
like always i hate to say this
but it is true im tired of it
you treat me like im nothing
when im better than you
i would have died for you
i would have fought for you
i would have lied to a cop for you
i would even cry for you which on
the end i did cry for you all night
i loved you so much it wasnt funny
then have you break my heart
i wont let it happen again