The stream (all workshops)
The southern wind decided it would bring
an early hint of fast approaching spring
although I fear that it might be false call
as winter cold has yet to give its all
Yet even so the fruit trees all still bloom
regardless of my sense of pending doom
and yellow bells display their early gold
could it be spring has really taken hold ?
So my my love I take a quiet walk
we often pause to look about and talk
surrounded by all the returning birds
now singing out their sweet seductive words
The last months
have felt like an acnestis upon my soul;
that little patch of skin on the back
that can't be reached to soothe.
Cannot be touched
to scratch.
It had me reaching,
spinning around in circles,
dog chasing tail...
mind railing against
the knowledge of this,
an Archaic Pain.
I was a mendicant
at your door.
You gave only confusion
For which there was No salve. No plaster.
only degrees of more.
Stealing glimpses
into another's soul
Shutters are drawn
nothing is manifold
But from each crack
a light creeps through
revealing so much pain
it's best not to peep,
or attempt to view...
Bj
13 March '11
a pile of clothes filled with dust and sweat
a bible with a bent black corner
and a haunted mirror
I comb the cracks looking
for miracles and find just scratchs
the flurry of snow is still cascading
against the gentle balance of your
cheek blushed with the chill
.
your eyes,
like flashlights in the dark
where ever you look
you see light
thus falsely assuming
your light is everywhere
at the same time
you are "The Seer"?
you've got the "Big Picture"?
you've got to be kidding!
you just think you know
but I know you don't
no one else does either!
Flash of ebony
fields of golden wheat stalks sway
manna for some crows.
Put your thoughts on hold
As this mirror offers you wisdom
Quit beating yourself senseless
The obstacles you overcame
Still keep most in disbelief
No demon could have its way with you
You threw punches when most would surrender
People told you that you're wasting your time
Still, you kept on the dreaded walk
And now you sulk away in silence
I ‘m calling angels to put another fight in you
I took the last ounce of passion from the heart
And cultivated it into this poem for you
Assiduous Beliefs
How much of life do we think we control
Destiny is preordained beyond interpretation
Choices are the test. For solidarity the peace of mind and soul
Belief in ones purpose is the hardest road
Pronouncement is simply the faith that we are here to learn
Pronouncement is simply the Proclamation of why we are born
Belief is the only part of life we control
Red,yellow,white
orange,pink and crimson
spicey scented delicate petals
early blossoms of summer fashion.
like a ribbon washed free of its ink
the silk empty
the words pressed by machine
my voice going
nothing left but a dawn
with a faint moon
Sleep
what is this??
for I am wicked
and cannot rest
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