I don’t come from the Rockies.
The mighty Himalayas are as foreign as Olympus Mons.
My mountains are the crooked slope
Of an ancient granny’s back as she stoops to shell beans.

Gentle and sheltering, my mountains
Weave a world of silent mist,
Insular and serene.
These weathered peaks have laid down to rest.

My mountains have felt eons melt before them
Like the last snow of winter,
Flowing through the valleys and coves,
Etching out a new future for the land.

I yearn to learn,
so that I can earn,
knowledges so profound,
by the desirous ones found.

The yearning burns like a flame,
somewhat not to acquire fame,
but to be free from obscurity,
and be filled with legerity.

It hones one's ability
to savor rare dexterity .
Gives mastery over ignorance
to enhance one's significance

Profound erudition,
not an over night acquisition,
it comes from a sound learning,
prompted by a deep yearning.

....it is the incomprehensible
Like the azure,
having neither beginning nor ending.

The prince of innocence
that rides the flying horse
in a transitional space.

The sensitive snail
that sings war & peace
from generation to generation

Pride of the kids
Regret of the negligent
Age.

The strength of the weak
& the weakness of the strong.
The unseen umpire of activities

In an eyeblink, it's
come & gone.
it's the time.

Where Wild Flowers Grow.

Children playing in the evening sun
running around, just having fun.
Dogs chasing balls happy to play
rolling in the grass late in the day.
A couple sitting on the ground
trying not to make a sound.
Where so much happened, long ago
on the field where wild flowers grow.

When she was four,

My evenings were spent listening
as her little mind unravelled the day
like a ball of wool untangled
The event un-spooled in colour

The minutiae of every significant moment:
a strangers hair, a teachers look,
a song of made up words
that came in a rambling tumble

Everything aglow when you were four,
everything grew with significance,
bubbled through the surface of the eye,
Was held in awe for a fleeting moment,
Palm up

Then let go

The festive beats of doom
Intensified metronomically in my bedroom
The raucous raw of invisible laughter
Reverberating through impressionable walls
Echoing in zoom
Tearing my curtains assunder
Pulling down the mighty roofs
Atop my atrocious bed sheets
And uncovering my nudity

I learn my lessons the hard way
I choose to walk the broad way
In the company of mediocrity in broad day
Fused, used and mused, like the potters clay

I stumbled 'pon some crumbling graves
Of whom, or which I could not know
Had died in peace, or maybe not
I mulled but still, I could not know.

A legacy of great, big men
Could be interred beneath the stone
Yet thinking there for quite some time
There'd been no way I could have known...

"Forgive me men, I could not tell
Nor keep, salute or even know
The greatness that could maybe be
I'm sorry men, I could not know..."

Mister cricket in my window,
Can you see me here below?
I'm listening to your song,
Wondering will you sing all night long?

I look up at the moon wishing vampires were real.
I could take a billion years to let my heart heal.
Life's become a passing breeze on my face.
Here, there, everywhere, then gone without a trace.

I think about my friend who lost her Mom.
My heart just went off like a bomb.
Mister cricket teach me to listen.
I'm having hard time, and haven't really written.

ablaze
a sensitive heart
pounding

incensed
by opposition

glaring fits of
blast furnace eyes

smite, smite, smite
the foe

impose a
burning wrath on
those daring
to oppose

bellow the way
spell it out
in happy crayon
and rainbow bold

flaunt the new
stomp the old
leave monsters
scorched in
a wake of scold

we, good hearts
ablaze

shall purify

by any means necessary

BAMN!

I meet you in the morning coffee.
Saturdays and Sundays are our playdates.

You greet me along side a plate of bacon,
scrambled eggs, and fried apples.
A cup of creamy comfort,

dressed in a lovely light brown
with a touch of cloud white.

Warm waves of french vanilla,
caramel, and some days irish cream,
swim down to my stomach like a raft
along a river current.