There lies a valley beyond a hill- Or perhaps just beyond a windowsill- Where the child watching the rain, Can go and from worry refrain. The dances of the droplets abundant- The quiet sound never seems redundant. And, though few and far between- There is magic to be seen. How very imaginative and full of thrill- Is the world beyond the windowsill.
A helmet head and pilots goggles- Swimming through the breeze- As the battered wings of propulsion Keep afloat the slender body of green In an instant the bubble eyes zoom past my own- And look fiercely towards the air ahead. With feet extended and joints loosely locked- The insect lands swiftly upon its tiny black legs- Rested, a moment later, again quickly soaring- The dragonfly pursues its destiny — living to fly....
hear me crying to you, dear the cold air brings my song it pokes and bites – you fear we may take you before long air like smoke upon your hands clench your scarf in fright you think someone understands? then walk out into the night allow that I may surround fill your ears and eyes the verge of the profound magnifies the lies that’s not heaven you see...
my eyes are open, and i sleep in a world my thoughts alone do keep so long since i’ve been here, thick dust covers every mirror i dust it lightly and still face, transparent eyes dart around the place turning then, self not quite found i discover me – i’m all around dark, light, liquid, solid, air life itself, because i am there my lonesome mind creates men, and very soon introduces sin...
The rustic teacher, behind her dust-covered desk, speaks- Of a topic she’s droned on about for many, many weeks. She creaks as she stands and walks to the front of her class, Retrospectively she blinks at students not willing to pass. ~~~ For an instant she’s seated in a pupils’ small desk, Her hands are not feeble, she has no breasts. She’s young again and not interested in learning,...
Encapsulated time, sweat, passion, and energy… Lost to the onslaught of rushing days. Rough, dirty, folded time -green paper- in a sweaty back pocket. Suffocated by a cheap, worn, black leather wallet. Handed reluctantly like a child from one parent to another, Deposited with the rest of the bills that have been used- For a shiny white gem on a glowing yellow band in a black box. The exchange is bitter-sweet....
When all things go wrong and tears come to eyes, When happiness despairs and the soul releases cries, When you’re feeling lonely, fearful, or confused, When you’re feeling battered, worn, and used, When life has got you down with its constant bad, I’d be glad to talk to you and rescue you from sad. I’d just love to hold you, to let you speak your mind, To put a smile on your face and to help you find-...
The misplaced mind in all its glory, Thinking wildly, an inconsistent story… Of love and hate and work and play- No thought, for too long, chooses to stay. An open door that all thoughts know, And so fluidly, in and out they go. Squeeze and push and pull and prod and run, The pleasing of thoughts; the mind is never done. Like a restaurant, the thoughts dine on cerebral power,...
Listen to him whisper That wise man speak Slowly and deliberately Lost in a world we seek Grey hairs upon the haven Root the secrets within Old hands massage memories And the whispers come again Tongue slowly mumbles Knowledge we implore Exhausted he falls Man upon the floor We roll him out of sight Review the notes and then Satisfied with knowledge We call the next man in Press him for the wisdom...
The old woman’s eyes widen in excitement when her family enters. The room is of a dull white color, a sheet divides it in two. The feeble woman casts a quick smile and then reels it back in. She is embarrassed of her missing dentures and her grey hair. She pulls her blanket closer, to hide her ailing body. She runs her fingers slowly through her thin grey hair....