Happy, New, Now!

I stand before a mirror that reflects

who I am today not yesterday
nor tomorrow but now
my body folds have become many
where once they were youthfully taught
There’s  wrinkles on my face, gray hair wildly
strewn throughout the otherwise black
strands sparsely left on my head and in my mustache,
and the scraggly growth invading my face, gray has
also found a less than desired space

Yesterday, Azur, passed into the destiny of

his next journey. I’ll miss his dark blue sheen
and majestically large gossamer fins
that would flair angelically through the water.
His vanity well displayed, whenever I would
walk by his glass enclosed kingdom. I'd call
out "azur azur" in a deep and soft voice
he would spiritedly flap his fin wings, fly
around his temporary sea and through
his underwater castle. On occasion
I think I would see him wink
and smile at me

The Gregorian calendar reminds us
the earth has made an orbit around
its designated Helio star. Other calendars
synchronized to lunar cycles, Spring equinox
or position of Venus. Most are convinced
this to be the designated time for a
‘new’ beginning but my calendar
begins every moment that I am cognizant
of my existence. When tomorrow comes,
if it does, I shall appreciate that moment
as the beginning of my new day with you

I say to you, my love ones now residing

in the beyond, save me a space where
I will come and take a place beside you
but until then I shall live here today
with a smile and with humble grace.
I shall love and hopefully it will be returned;
this being my new year’s resolution

once a golden eagle

I soared with wings tinted in bronze

hovered over the stones stacked one
on top of the other by those who thought
they could touch the sky and pray to
Quetzalcoatl from atop in Tenochtitlan

I tilt my gold crown head to look down upon

the tops of a CalpuIli crowns made from feathers
fallen from my wares for they also wished to
mimic me when they climbed their pyramids
to sacrifice their own

they did not know they would never fly

composed from the dirt they walked upon
and bones made of trees and stones
they were made to watch the earth
and watch o’er those without wings

some of us were made to fly and

some were made to traverse the ground
and look up to admire wing feathers glide
amidst the winds and make nests on mountain tops
this imparted upon them a will to wish and dream
thinking someday they too will touch the sky

in another life I will be like them

and walk the earth with arms and legs
but until then I shall wrap myself
in shawls of hovering clouds and squeal
my song through beak'n lips appreciate
in this life of why I was made to fly

a prayer

the wind blows cold

even when the day is warm
and  a single hovering cloud
can cover all with a dark gray
holding the sun at bay
it chills the soul
with isolation which makes
the heart shutter
a face of uncaring cruelty
abounds in a world where
those with mal-intent
instill fear over those
with lesser means

the day will come when

warm air blows in
and the sun dissipates
that cloud
gives a warm embrace
to the smallest flower
and it shall grow into
a garden that will feed
the least of them
and forgiveness will
fertilize the soil
which will enrich the soul
of those once so cruel

the writer

Sweet are words meld into sentences

honing the ends with commas and colons
expressing music or painting Natures colors
a symphany accompanying a herald of song
and where the grasses grow green and
flowers bloom in spring

a sense of joy comes as the

finger tips move the lead of a
newly sharpened pencil over
cyprus and or papyrus sheets
leaving impressions
soon to ride upon the reveries
and dreams of those who read this

the words I write may not be the
ones you choose, they may not express
the sentiments as creatively as yours
but they are mine and somewhere
someone will appreciate me for my
unique writer’s style if not just
for the intentions of my heart

underneath this held hand pen arises

notions of prickly white rose stems, the
thrashings and clapping of ocean waves,
aster meadows swaying in swirling
and howling winds mimicking the likes
of seas and seagulls soaring in concert
to the orchestration of robins, cardinals, wrens

the sounds of fresh running stream

play between the dangling of naked toes
of two lovers sitting by the bank
and sharing their palpitating hearts
as their lives have together journeyed,
now octogenarians, they've come back
to reminisce upon this place where
their youthful bodies first met and touched

as I place the pencil onto this paper
ascribing the lifting of a sail upon a mast
to ride the swales and caps of tides
raised high trying to reach and touch
the moon and stars the clouds by day
as the ocean winds take us on a journey
gleaned in writ on page after page.
and underneath the pencil and this pen,
whilst woefully but intentionally,
I dismiss the use of a punctuation period
at the story’s end  

'Be'

temporarily misdirected

need to change
the composition
of this road
made of
jagged stones and shards
of glass from broken
windows of my past

they cut into
my bare feet
every step is
foreboding
causing hesitation
to take another one

i stop stand still

observe myself
amidst the
cold the dark
in this path

try to understand
where i am
in these surroundings
what steps i
must take while
ignoring the pangs
of jagged stones
and broken glass

i rest my soul

upon the palms
of the 'One', and
abide willingly
the direction
it leads me

release my 'self'
without regret
without sorrow
and  breathe 
let the light
find me. ‘Be’

will you sing my song

body is petrifying

limbs becoming brittle
naked and barren
of buds and leaves
no longer are
my roots
strong and sturdy

still I feel

like singing
words I’ve written
as melodies
I hope they
make you smile, if
you choose to sing
my song
with me

days become numbers

I count the suns
and moons
asking stars
to make room
for I will
be there soon

hope to brighten

your nights
and fill your dreams
with wishes
and happy tears
much like mine
of many years

fill your day

with love, think
not of yesterdays
for they come
too soon, dream
your dreams not
of tomorrows
but what today
shall bring

be kind to yourself

because you are
all you have
as the song says…
when the wind is
blowing in your face
and the whole world
is on your case,
I can offer you
a warm embrace,
to make you feel
my love…

homeless

frigid cold bites

finger tips

numb purple toes

eyes frozen tears

edges of ears

cannot feel them

runny snot frozen

on the lips

pee stench

uncontrolled shaking

now has stopped

given up

 

eyelids won’t shut

glassed eyes

breath vapors

no longer

chest lies still

blood flow ceased

heart at rest

fetal position

stiff

 

last coin

call family

not home

bye, love you

learning to count

and when I see that wondrous flake slowly fall

I feel my arms around you and your warm
breast pressed against me as we lay there
counting the calming falling of the starry flakes
on my window pane

the silky smoothness of your thighs intertwined

in mine give rise to my wanting desire and I
lose count of the falling white stars as my fingers
flow through your scented hair and I stare
into those azure crystal eyes that say to me
tease me, kiss me, please me

we roll about in tangled sheets

and sweaty beads of lust and love
soft whispers fill the room of ’please
let’s not stop until the clouds are depleted
of snow’ which now the sun has turned
into a crimson pink and the moon
has given us a wink

I’m hoping for the snow to fall and fall

till our doors cannot be opened
and we wrap the sheets around us
and rise only  to walk toward where
there’s  warmth of firewood crackling snapping
and we stare into each other’s eyes
where soon once again we lose count
of the sparks flying from the flames

this is why Nature has given us winter snow

and summer rains and rose colored leaves
falling from the trees so we can use them
as a reason to learn to count

“Madiba”

Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela Jul. 18, 1918-Nov. 5, 2013 (Madiba)

 We do not grieve of your departure from this world. We celebrate that you shared so much of your soul for so many years. You spoke the language that took a long while for so many to understand. You inspired Martin Luther King to march to your and Gandhi’s mantra, that being; liberty, justice and freedom through non violence.

You reawakened and opened the door to the voice of those who had for so long been subjugated to the dissonance of what is Humankind. Your body was incarcerated as a sacrifice yet your spirit sang out between the iron bars and shackles telling the world of the inequities in your village, your town your country. All began to listen and to dance to your inspirational song. It led to our peaceful marches in the nineteen sixties, thousands of miles, north where oppressors applied the same subjugation and oppression.   

This torch or banner of nonviolent revolution has been carried by courage’s figures throughout the history of our world. In lieu of violence and the synonymity with war, our world has believed that the only option to change or kindler of revolution. The courage’s ones have provided us with another option.  They speak of how the  mind and soul can be incited into action by calling attention to inequities and disparities in the status quo through mass awareness in voice vs the philosophy of violent elimination. This banner has been carried by the likes of Jesus, Gandhi, Sister Theresa, Martin Luther King and now, you. A common link to all of you courage’s figures is that all were commoners when first carrying the banner and not self appointed leaders or elected rulers. After serving humanity then they were given a title by their peers. One more link is, a common notion, an issue that is understood by all, that being; the application of fairness, kindness to all that share in this short lived world of ‘Ours’.

History will note that through your life you carried more than just one banner but for many this one banner will be a personal one and in the forefront. Thank you for carrying this torch and banner for us. Hopefully someday humankind will come to its senses and eradicate the war mentality and its machines. There will be a realization that change can be accomplished through voice and our willingness to listen to that voice. Our short lived resources to develop a more livable world would be better served.   Rest in Peace, mi amigo!

a flower's wisdom

as the morning proceeds to open its eyes

so do yours as you slowly transition from
the realities of the dreams that enveloped
your resting night time soul

you breathe the breath of light that's coming

from the flapping of the days wings
lifting you from your supine state onto
the verticality where the view of the horizon
and all else standing upright in this reality

you take a step to observe with fresh eyes

the flower that stands before you
how the soft pedals spread open reaching
for the sky with a radiance of crimson and yellows
curious of how it has survived the cold
and nigh of snow

you lift your eyes and arms upward to where

the dream of heaven should be and await its
greeting to this new beginning much like 
the flower’s soul that seems to have the wisdom
you seek, as the sun smiles down upon it
and they both look at you, for they know

 

estrella mia

mi estrella, your fingers of light have gently

grasped the dark crevices in my heart
your brightness enlightens my soul
endearing without the casting of a shadow

I knew we’d eventually find each other

amidst the constellations that have veiled
the night skies since the beginning of time
and somehow you and I who’ve traveled
through much darkness are now brought
together by destiny’s hand

our union has left me agape

and gasping for air like a sea lion
coming up to breathe from the dark depths
of cold waters after searching for that opening
in the iced down ceiling from above

now I understand the meaning of the star

that guided the three wise men written
in the Book and the epiphany in the
star of David where the fingers of your light
touch closed eyes to open and cast a
shadow-less light upon the soul

mi estrella, you have awaken me

and have ‘lightened’ the burden on my soul
where I will now traverse upon my life’s
journey gathering shadows where they
should not be cast and try to fill that
now empty space with star dust

Angels in the snow

Oh, so fleeting are those days of yore

where lovers leaped without hands or feet
just their hearts

those moments when tears

would appear and with one gentle swipe
of tender fingers your lover would comfort
you and whisper ‘all will be ok’

quiet moments where two

souls would share a space and without
the misnomers from words being spoken
they would just embrace

when soaring figures made of clouds

passed by as we lay together in
fields we had played and giggle
when our empty bellies grumbled

we’d ride our bikes so fast

without fear laughing while pedaling
into the wind as leaves and particulars
gathered in the corner of our eyes
along with tiny tears

Oh, so fleeting were the times

where angst and wars and death
had no place in our immortal souls
we would just play making angels
in the snow

letter from the heart

Stop

     you have pushed me away too often
   when I have tried to touch your heart
              you’ve not given me a chance
    that emptiness inside you still remains
                 you bath in dark waters
                          the gray clouds that circle above you
            will not let the sun in
to warm you  to enrich you  to brighten your day
         do you not think you deserve me
                         i can give you smiles
           i can give you joy
                    relieve your pain for a while
                                this anguish you have felt for so long
         that you don’t understand
                 and probably never will
                         I can fill that void
once you hold me       once you let me in
                                you will wonder why you stayed away so long
                 you need not run away any longer
       your world will change
you will ask me never to leave you
                   so give me a chance

Thanks

       Hope to see you soon

            signed:

              Love

a smile

a smile, it dispels the ills and woes

it waters the wilted flower
makes verdant the gold dry grasses
opens the mauve petals of a budding lily
clear streams run and the fish dance in them
a loved family dog quenching its thirst
a broken wing mends and flies to freedom
a mother's child rests on her bosom 
elderly lovers on a park bench
embracing each other
he whispers~ thank you~
a kiss is placed gently on her cheek
two hearts beat healthily
and the smile lives on

Smile with the moon

the soft white face of the moon

smiles as it rides with its finger like
light rays atop the white caps of
the winter’s breath rolling in

this I always miss when my

eyes close at night yet if its
the last vision they see somehow
its displayed in the background
of my dreams

when my eyes begin to open

after my nights sojourn
the moon begins to smile
welcoming its friend the sun
of whom it shares the glow
from its golden apron

sometimes I wonder if when

my eyes shall close for eternity
will they share the light
of the suns warm gold and 
share a smile with the soft white moon

storm

A demon storm has scathed the land where now lonely people stand

It blew in angry from the ocean fronts just before a holiday
pummeling the landscape with harrowing ocean winds
splintering into tiny sticks and bricks all that stood in its way
strewn about are lost life long possessions
A wailing mother stands in tattered garb screaming
a shrieking sound calling out a garbled name
her child’s tender and loving caress torn away from her
bloodied out stretched empty hands
Her muddied tears cover her face but not enough to shed
the anguish as the wind blows her tangled hair
like Medusa’s snakes but hers rolled in mud and rain
A little toddler holding her older sisters hand stands nearby
in the dirty rain while parts of clothing blow in the wind
some like banners blowing hanging from denuded branches
of a  lowly standing baron tree
A comfort couch and bed thrown atop a mangled car
A stove in the middle of piled debris still with
cooking wares inside where moments earlier it had
started warming turkey and ham and sweet potato pie
It now sits with oven door dangling open
in the middle of a swollen broken street

This lonely mother looking up at the dirty gray sky
trying to negotiate with whom she worships

of this savage storm that cared little about life
that's left her human heart broken and her love torn apart
She asks for answers with the divine grace of her deity
why she’s left to wander in the havoc and this empty desert
an unforgiving world who now seems to her cold and dead
She stands there all alone praying for forgiveness and asking
that her god also take her for without her little one to love and hold
life is no longer worth living in this emptiness
with no more faith and no more hope

 

vicarious existence

calming warmth surrounds me with

protection from outdoor ravages
of cold and rain howling winds
and those that wish to harm me
out of envy or predatory ways

sitting here in comfort with my thoughts

and creative nurturing to paint lovely
pictures with my words exhorting
the vicarious needs of calm and soothe
a choice to extricate myself from harm

while I do this the desert burns hot and arid

scorching and killing the soul of life
in the forest are the predators who ravage
without care the young fawn grazing
in the open fields tiny rodents scurry to
hide from the incising hawks beak or in the
rivers springs and oceans the fish are unaware
of the portentous eagles talons

gone awry is the human caring for a week

and feeble child who desires but a simple
caress which has been replaced by cold
abandonment and who just wants
to be loved and given one days crumbs
and a warm place to rest

and there are the angry and uncaring

who unabashedly prey upon the weak
for their nominal morsels, steal from
the unwitting, the same who denude our
forests and unabashedly still spew ugly
contaminants into the earths breath

looking outside my window onto swaying

trees whose leaves have been torn away
by the swirling winds that bring in the
winters snow and I sit here with my words
painting pictures of a wintry fest
but I dare not forget how with this pristine
loveliness comes a disheartening gray
and frigid cold

  

our chi at sea

If I can for a moment share with you my eyes

of how I see you and your powder blues
then lend you my heart so you’d feel
it flutter when I see your smile
and my lungs how they expand gasping
as your warm breath touches me

take a moments time and listen

to  my song I wrote for us of when
we laid upon a hill no words were spoken
looking upward till stars of night
covered us with glitter and
the moon rays kissed our cheeks

listen to the melody and how it takes

us soaring over the horizon
where the sky wades its feet upon the ocean
the osprey flies into the setting sun
and the dolphins arc their dorsal fins
in and out like quarter notes on 
a measure of a treble clef on a score

please take note of the words dancing

in tempo with the strumming of the strings
and the finger runs on the keys
for they’ve been carefully chosen
to take the rhythm of our hearts beat
in sync with the waves that roll
and keep the seas alive

they speak of our tender callings in each

others ears when our moments were
filled with love from the warm breezes
titillating our skin rolling naked in the grass
as the birds whistled and the fauna in
the flora and the trees gathered to witness
the yin yang of two human forms
connecting their chi in glee

 

Sundays best

Dia
de

sol(domingo)

ar

ri

ves

Oh too soon

iron pressed dressed

believers gather to reflect

upon their deeds and raise

their voices in song the ritual

of the supposed civilized even

though they’ve left the beggars

still begging and the children still

crying in darken coves where they

share their crumbs with rodent friends

believers read scriptures
from their book that

 has all the answers

 for this one day

amen !

wake of night

in the wake of night
I gather my days journey

assemble the thoughts

inspired by what my eyes

did see and the sounds

that harmonized with the sun

and winds song 

as I close my eyes

to sleep to sleep

fill them with

my hearts desires

of those who touched

my soul to keep

to dream to dream

and when I awaken

to the mornings call

of millions of gold sunrises

reflecting off the dew

my beginning

of the new day

is filled with wonderings

of my dreams in that

pot at rainbows end

I shall sit still

and in my ears

I will heed the rustling tree,

my eyes shall see the bird, the figurines

made from clouds swimming in the

azure sky and I shall feel

the wind upon my brow

so upon another wake of night

shall be readied

to sleep to sleep

to dream to dream