He fell in love with her
Lost himself in her world
He couldn't withstand her resplendent look
Her eyes shone like a shooting star
Glowing in a glamorous manner
With her rounded face carved like
the sculptures of beautiful angels

He could burn the world for her
Calm the raging storm if he had the power
Climb the highest mountain to profess his love
Fight the deadliest creatures to protect her
But he forgot she was the daughter of chaos
Love means nothing
Pain was her only language

i seek new moons mirrored in a blood-filled bog
fog, thick and thirsty, encloses the woods
where new roses shrivel and wither to black
then back again in spring white, red and pink
new petals to be plucked by the hand of the dead
even the fog yearns to be tinged red
no white now and pink has gone
to feed in the land where dead hearts carry on
the petals once open never ended their quest
to be blessed with maturity and fertility
and tender young thorns cannot protect
a flower's sweet virginity

The coffee was acidly strong right about then.
Just hung stingy and pricking on the buds.
I knew I tasted this bitterness before and there I stood.
Holding in the sour guts of it all night; delaying the foreseeable.
All night, changing the words, shielding the wound.

The world does not end
when one goes away
7.5 Billions were not here yesterday
many are born every day
today we are
tomorrow we can't say
life has its own flow
it is a River of No Return
and now all know

But all always did also
yet kept their eyes blindfolded
O Lord is eyeing us
from that distance
awaiting me
perhaps now it's my turn'
@80

Grief too has a time limit
then all resume breakfast
and
Thanks Giving

Suddenness of Life

Yesterday we spoke

This morning he did not call
day before
he excused to say

I am going for my walk

Time just comes
lapses

Spiritual or NOT
He has gone
Autumn is just on

My only friend
philosopher guide
and
master
more than a brother

He said when he is
gone
he will never be
reborn

I know
we all have to follow
the same route

Living is a plaything,
a daily exercise with exception of perfection,
rather a falling and a rising
as everyday closer and closer to its end we gallop.

Living is an amusement,
a rollercoaster on mountains' circumferential highways,
a circuit of vertigo in endless spin,
that makes us laugh and cry in turning circles.

Living is a judgment,
a reminder of our sullen mortality and sacred immortality,
an umpire of fast and slow we jive and go,
and a roiling air that at dusk takes the bloom off our laughs.

Thoughts are better off born without much thought.
Alarms ring, feet muster the morning chill.
Beat the clock, steal a glance a second.
Tick and clang reverberates your brain.
You know the one you put to bed a mere hour ago.

Fast lanes passing on the right.
Toll cards and frozen elevators.
Forty floors up to boredom.
Could spit fall at such a rate as to break
apart the ants head?

in a forest near as still as death
as i walk beside a frozen bog
the first month of the new year
when heavy frosts greet every day
brings memories from far away
where i sit to rest a while
after hiking a mere quarter mile
how many winters have i left
both behind and yet to come
one day i'll leave these woods bereft
then head back to where i had begun

my version:

In a dress of red on an ocean bled
Finest of silk thread, finest in the land
Perhaps she was dead some of them said
Maybe you should come take her hand

She laid upon a seedy bed
Broken broomstick in the sand
With a warm bloody bedspread
Her head broken where she crashed on land

They fled from what witches all dread
Seeking shelter in a broken down shed
The two were wed with wedding bands
Not daring to take chances instead