Voice of heaven

ROSES are blessings
from the unknown
dimension
for those who love
to enjoy life
as all life is love only
wherever one may be
where are you from
O one so friendly
Kindly

When lovely folks read me
and
admire
the whole world lies ahead of me
and
I create exquisite
in lovely poetry

All do believe me
my Love is Poetry

THANKS TO folks like thee

I am in your mind, your thoughts and dreams,
I am vision but cannot be seen.
I mend, disappear, morph, flare,
I am yours to use, please do not spare.

You think of me as lava on the floor,
or a creative way to decorate your door.
If only you could see,
there is so much more than that to me.

I am an abstract painting on the wall,
and a building that is destined to fall.
I am the hero from your book,
I am the way you have good things to cook.

The Lighthouse Keeper

I am the lighthouse keeper,
the night manager
for the ambulance’s
blue, red wick
the coordinator
for whistling colors.

I fish with wreaths
of goblet flame
at noontide catching
dreams of pixie dust
gold dust women panting.

Lobster orchids crawl
legs in the smoke fall ;
dizzy dolls made sick.

I wind solvents for our yard lines
clipped with butterfly wings,
tracing their crippled
pulses always, fainter,
keeping score.

 
There is sadness portrayed,
that seeks my soul.
Let us tend to your hurts
Where love is the potion.
Hold us close to your way
Others are kept at bay
This fear of being
Must decline, as it is fragile
 
Think of us each morning
Before you start your day
We will walk with you
Along rough ways.
Picking up the stones
That are strewn there
Then you may journey
Without these cares
 
Child, take up our ways,
as they are there for you.
Just for a fleeting time
we have been told
Just hold us now and then,
our lightness will attend.

There you will not be scarred,
your fear will subside
That walking this path with you,
to feel, touch, then share.
Know we care.
Then also know.
We walk with you..

My New Bee Hives

They have arrived; two boxes filled
with little honey makers.
I donned my sting-proof suit and transferred
them to their new homes--then listened to
the buzz inside those hives.

Within each colony, every bee performs
a function. There is the queen
and her consorts, the large-eyed drones
that swarm high above the ground and
engage in courtship with the queen.
The prevailing male will not survive; he
loses his genitalia when his purpose
is fulfilled. Unlucky son of a bee!

When the dam burst

And swift it came onto the parched and brittle land,
the lifting latch of turf to pour in sudden sluice,
and down the dam wall came, while cursing all
that passionless void which reigned before.
And kiss engulfed, this famished writhing land,
with dry stalks long, wrung up their tears from earth,
to join the sweetly flooding song.

I balance on the edge of that they call my lyric mind
and leave the bloody, cloven steps of razor’s walk behind.
Depression squeals, the choked muse reels and all I’ve wrought is thought.

We watch the flame the candle makes, but no one sees the wick.
The poet hides the closest parts because those parts are sick.
Nous runs amain, it flees the pain and all I write is naught.

What is this fear of showing self, of giving self away?
Mechanical I demonstrate and all I have to say.
I tell a tale and all bewail, but naught of poignant phrase.

i cannot begin to unravel the deceit
about her
like an air
brooding and resilent
I say that yes for I would wash
my hands of the element that
surrounds her like craggy airs
She stretches..her flat pale
stomach flawless
the benefit of youth
her hips bones like the
jug handles of oil shipped
on a greek sailing vessel
Long neck....strong jaw
large brilliant eyes
a blue like the coastal clay
refined
but the iris
the large breadth of its
dot soaking in your soul

On the clean night air
blowing through my open doors
the whiff of sewer

Making the Weather

Billowing clouds, then more clouds
shaped like lambs, ponies and bunnies . . .
one resembles my Auntie Rue's face,
and another, our TV weather girl's hairdo
that takes on the form of cumulus congestus
with fluffy layers of curls piled on top
of each other. They suggest windy
conditions, but that girl seems
a bit too tail-heavy to soar.