feliz año nuevo

many a daylight reveries and night time dreams

have passed, ruminations and interpretations
of where reality resides. what for are my peripatetic
dispersings in my awakenings but only to depose them
onto sleepless nights of confusion

the god of gods, the maker of my being, provides me

with the will of choice or has he ?
is my trail paved with palatable terrace stones
so that my every step directs me toward a
predetermined path and all of my contorted and
juxtaposed moments are of a duped puppet on strings?

has the residence of my being in this universe of

dark and light, of cold and warm, of noise
and silence, my tears having been heartless
only to the dysfunction of metabolic incarnations
and my sensorial portrayals having been but
valences, less than benevolent and without cause?

 

do my queries even purport anything in the

discourse of existence where if there is
no god of gods, no divine intention or intervention
to give all this some value or worth that we dupes
believe to be the ‘good’?

to this, though, i shall not deviate from my direction,

to give with appreciation of myself even if impoverished
with misgivings to thoughts of godlessness, 
these curious interpreted thoughts of my doing.
for i having noticed smiles of comfort, a joy
and warmth of being, to this i shall go on until
the end. i wish to be integral and heartfelt of all this
for this is what my new year will bring

give of yourself

a veil of tears fall gently

down my face as i ponder
who, for what, i am
they fall onto an open hand
trying to understand why they’re shed
and i sooth the pain by saying…yes i do,
thy heart laments in the sorrow of others

…feeling the burdens of hunger

the pangs of strife and loneliness
knowing life’s music is not heard
when the struggle is deafening

a body left unclothed, sheltered from the cold,

hunger pangs go unfed of mother and child,
an uncaring hand that has so much is
blinded by perceived riches of self indulgence

i catch the tears upon my open hand

holding my soul, my heart tight, walking,
day and night trying to wipe away tears
on faces, share food with child and mother

for when the human heart is promised yet it

becomes complacent, not a smile or touch,
many are scorned thinking no one cares
for even in the presence of others
an emptiness resides within

dark or light

dark , dark ~ black

        surrounds

                  i let it embrace me

                       in this empty space the absence of color
 
             a void without light

                         no longer with fear

portentous disappears

                  thoughts scramble, jumbled

                             breath is shallow, quiet

                                          heart beat slow
    tears appear and flow

                          days bygones

         saddened memories

                  loves lost to the absence of life

                           and so i sit here  

                                 wondering why the past came so quickly

           soon my tomorrows                          will disappear

 
                              is there light

or dark dark

                                        where i will be ?

A musical genius | Usman Riaz | TEDxGateway

Kate Davis- "Glad To Be Unhappy" @Kennedy Center www.KateDavisMusic.com

do you see what i see

while my eyes are closed but cannot sleep

tell me of what your eyes behold
do they see the azure of a sky who shares
its space with those who wish to fly like
the miracle of the mariposa that flutters with glee
where once tethered earth bound and now
it flies free

do your eyes avail themselves to the light

of a yellow gold sun that hovers high
giving nourishment to the plants and trees,
the glistening of the springs that run through
valleys at the feet of grandiose mountains
as the eagles perch on the edges of their peaks

tell me does your heart beat with the rhythm

of life’s drum that is in sync with the wind
that has traveled above the oceans waves
and through the caves and caverns of antiquity
carrying whispers of the past of how love prevailed
over the blood of war otherwise our souls today
would not be sharing the tales of yore
 

do your eyes perceive as mine do even though

they are closed trying to gather dreams of where
two lovers dance as in stories of Brothers Grimm,
foretelling of how tomorrow will bring a calm and peace
unlike what the lecherous speak or the haters reap
but of joy and laughter where our souls shall ever after
be set free like the transcendent miracle of mariposa’s wings

shelter from the storm

as the trees were bending

the wind was swirling, gusting,
a darkness, an ominous setting i
as a storm was evident

there i sat looking out my window
wondering whether my fear was
justified and how to take shelter
not realizing, forgetting that i was
not alone in this fear

i fear the noise, the banging

of window shutters, the gray then
the dark covering all where but
moments before had been clear and
discernible, seemingly to be forever present

the lilies lavender peddles and rosette

bulbs that stood before me and had
been giving pleasure to mine eyes
now had been blown off only a
denuded stem stood

calm and peaceful stillness besets
the canvass with gentle beauty
but when life’s storm rumbles through
what was once beauty before mine eyes
now only tattered resemblances remain

i think to myself, could I have covered

the lily and rose with shelter if i were not
enthralled in fear, concerned for myself
without consideration of other life
that surrounds my every moment

the storm shall pass and i will be left

with only that which i sheltered then
i realized that if all was taken from me
while distracted by my personal fear,
i would be alone. life can be a storm     

lore of love and hope

where before we’d read about in

the bibles’ prophesies or the myths in writ
of old where fires would rage and burn houses
down when once they were homes
all because love no longer ruled and
the ire and the daggers of lust for power
purchased by a currency of jealousy and
judgment railed and by so, the killing of their
children, wantonly, supplanting of their dreams
and futures as destined by the dictates
of a hand clenched and filled of hate

these are readings no longer or in writ

but if one walks out their door they will see
the houses burning as children align
the streets marching in bloodied faces,
torn and frayed shirts from battles fought
with the soldiers armed by the pockets of
institutions from grandfathers whose edifices
were built to house their hoarded truths
and gold, gathered on the backs of native
peoples and those enslaved to maintain the
trophies, selfishly stored, never to be shared
by anyone other than their own

will the souls of righteousness prevail and

take back the land, filling the hands of time with
a writ of history telling of how the children fought
for the rights of all and the good that breathed
nourishment once again into the souls, leading them
to refresh the air, the seas, the land of trees,
leaving myths for those in future reads of how
once upon a time; the feet that roamed this earth
had carelessly assailed its fruits and almost left
a paradisiacal gift in mire for the children of the
future never to behold or stories never to be told ?     

human rights

was but a child of eight

walking on a street so foreign
in a country so strange
felt all alone

a stranger strikes me in my stomach

expels all breath inside me
he runs away and yells…
‘go back home where you belong’

incessant tears cascade my face,

running running not stopping until at my front door
mamasita comes up to me…’que paso mijo’?
i asked..’what’s wrong with me, mama’?

she sits me down with her hand

tears are wiped from my face
gives me a tortilla with butter, sugar
sprinkles, looks at me and says
‘nene, te falta nada, eres un angel’
(nothing is wrong with you, my angel)

hate, I’ve learned, arises for different reasons;

because of differences, because of fears,
insecurities gathered through the years
are groomed by ignorance, stupidity is the
attire of choice.

to this day my stomach aches not from

a strangers hand but from the strain
of hatred running through people’s veins
that cause human rights violations on the
disenfranchised via prejudice, bigotry , racism
with insidiousness for oligarchic gains

 

[ for Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Human Rights

 

 

evolving world

there’s coolness in quiet
a warmth in silence
feeling the presence
of life’s essence

as violins play

and song birds sing
running rivers dream
of an oceans roar

the blooms of Spring

then a sSmmer breaze
array of colors in the Fall
a freeze in Winter’s tease

through it all we've come

the pains and sorrows
but also tears of joy
to welcome our tomorrows

let there be light

our creator said
rest your head
upon my bed

so when the star

shines bright at night
reminds us that
after dark there’s light

 *James Write leaves us with a darkness in these two poems. thought i'd give a little light after the dark
 

entwined

i shall wander into your ponderings,

lose myself in you no longer feeling me,
will see how you see me and as your heart
beats in rhythm of your breath, I will feel
your pain and cry your tears

i will do this and

 
your fears will be mine,
your desires with mine entwine
and as i kiss your cheek
hold the warm of your hand
love will be different as i
drink from the cup of empathy

veil of gray upon us

the day that once covered me in light

now is misty and gray
in the light i’d run like the wind blows free
sometimes as a breeze and sometimes as a
gust so strong that would shake even the
sturdiest of trees

in the light i’d sing and jump with delight

roll around uncaring of twigs and stones
the grass being healthy and strong
all around me would stop to smile and stare
the blue jay and robin would, upon a limb,
perch to see what brings about this fair
the chipmunk and the squirrel would
stop their scurry and sit up on haunches
tiny front feet gathered at their chest

but as the mist and gray fell like a veil

upon the lights rays t’was not only i
who stopped playing but all around me
became so solemn, no longer wishing
to play and so the joy, the delight
ceased and light became gray

hoping the light to shine through, someday soon

and the world will gather this veil of gray of our own
creation, with the same hand, crumble and throw it away
the heart will recover, feel the grass under dancing feet,
rolling about and running in the swirling wind
the chipmunk and squirrel will once again
scurry about, the blue jay and robin will feel
the wind underneath their wings

fly away free birds let not the gray make your day
and realize that all is not 'black and white'
we’re in this together

 

 

 

 

holding hands

dreamt last night that my little hand

was being held in mama’s and we’re
walking in a park in Monterey, Mexico

the park is crowded with people

walking in the grass, in the pathways,
sitting under trees, all holding hands

i looked around with a smile

because mama was holding my hand
and mama loves me

night came and the people

turned into strangers, skewed
into shadows cast by lamp lights

a dream of a memory

long held in my heart
of when mama was still with me

i think i like holding hands

even if just shaking them to
say hello

i have since learned that

hugs are good too because
we touch each others hearts

 

*for imaginary garden with real toads




 

listen in the dark

listen in the dark

the sounds of the day
have gone astray
but the noise still resides

you can hear the days voices

the sound of trees
crackling in the cold
the wind playing
whistling in its space

stand in the dark and

let the smells of the day
the melting of snow on grass
and your wet flannel shirt

your eyes needn’t be closed

you can see the gray of sky
tiny green of thriving buds
on trees and the crimson russet
leaves fallen piercing through
the white of snow on the ground

in the dark I can hear her heart

beat to the rhythm when she
stands beside me closely, feel her
femininity, smell her freshly washed hair
and if i’m lucky, i can see the
flickering of stars not by peering upward
but into the reflection of her eyes

if you listen in the dark

you can re-live the day

our love is not fleeting

blinked and all had changed

fleeting, the places and faces

being inattentive to them

eroding their presence

 

this is just life

the changing of summer to fall

winter to spring

the wanton swirling of wind

day and the night

the beating of the heart
 

but my love wanes not

it’s tethered to your touch
it hearkens for your smile
wishes for your kiss
it hopes that you will sit
by my side until the two
of us make way to depart

that moment

when the moment comes

if my heart aches and my mind no
longer wishes to entertain the pain
so great distracting from life and
my soul no longer feels the spirit
of verve in the smallest of things
then let it be by my own hand
that my pain shall be lifted
 
when colors no longer have their hue,
waters no longer quench my thirst,
the sounds of song in nature’s nest
are muffled and no longer move
my feet to dance then i shall wish
to lay down my body to sleep

but until then;

 

i shall keenly listen

to your voice, feel the gentle touch
of your hand in mine, hold you close
as we stroll along listening to the
sounds  and the song of the wind,
let the light enter my eyes from the day
and the moons light and glitter of night

i shall let my heart beat fast when i see

your face and the warmth of our embrace
i shall, until that moment comes, give of me
to you with all that i am and hope that
in my smile you will know that love
had entered into our special place

 

this shadow is me

hope, a literary expression of a new beginning

like spring and freshness or morning sunlight
one is human the others natural
yet what links them is the emanation of newness
freshness, the mornings dawn of a new beginning

we notice the storm come in because its ominous

yet afterwards shadows are cast, they come not from
the sun or dance to a lively burning fire
but come from the tree, from the mountain, the edifice 
and our winged friends cast their shadow, their souls,
onto the ground as they soar overhead in joy

this

speaks to the notion that what energy of light,

freshness of spring or the dawn, like hope,
begins anew it radiates, emanates from within

we

 

i

have that in me

if pleasure be the height of all passion in human life

and love gives that pleasure like the sun gives light,
then let…*the sunlight grasp the earth and the
moon beams kiss the sea, for what is all this kissing’s
worth if thou kiss not me  
 

*Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

the Fall bares my soul

in the Fall the trees are denuded of leaves

by the cold, the seasonal change, except for
a few that stubbornly cling, hold on tight
and when the white of winter snow covers
the tops of limbs, these leaves wear the snow
like shawls, dressed for the dance with the wind

tall green leaf sprouts of lilies and tulips

lay wet and still on mother earth’s chest
awaiting for the synthesis into loam, 
the sacrifice to feed newborn in life's quest

like the lonely leaf that bears the cold

holding onto the finger and hand of its root,
my soul hangs onto this incarnate being
to wear the mundane wrappings so that the
eyes behold, the ears fill with nature’s song,
the lips kiss the day and night and the heart
dances in the embrace of love

little memories

glorious is the mornings awakening

and mine ears are fancied by  music
echoing soft violin strings of Mozart’s soul

the day still is dark of its nocturnal sleep

as i reflect upon the juxtaposed stories
in my dreams and i hearken a new day

my body lies still, consumes the last morsels

of night slumber and avails itself of
the comforts beset in this restful nest

when i rise my steps will stroll amidst

the rustling and voices from afar,
the rumbling tires from a passing car,   
a canine friend barking in the morning mist

i listen to the sounds sometimes

thinking i hear the sun rising
as a breeze shakes the leaves of trees,
humming of the bumble bees
and petals of flowers stretching
for the warmth of its embrace

when once again the moon smiles at me

and mine eyes take pleasure in observing
Orion’s belt bending and dipping
with Ursa Major trying to entice
Draco into a dance as Sirius looks on

my soul will soon travel into their space

my heart will be interned in the arms
of Earth leaving memories my eyes beheld,
my ears heard, the smell of roses,
the tears and the smiles my heart has felt

into thy arms you lift me

   in your embrace i shall whisper
   …no regrets, for my time here is spent
            where i have gathered many flowers
                  and left planted seeds for a garden to grow
 

*dedicated to a friend and her husband who have been told she has but four months left here with us   

 

northern wind

spring, when it arrives brings enlightenment,

refreshes my soul
but when Autumn ascends it envelops
my being with introspection

i see change before my eyes

where bright greens, reds and yellows
turn to browns, auburns and russets
the strong stout arms of trees
become brittle and their thistle, tassels and
leafy garb drop covering their rooted toes

the warm breath of summer

now bristles with cool in the mornings,
the days are powdered with grey
and the wind blows down
from the northern sky

this brings me to notice that time

now running quicker as dusk to dawn
seem to arrive closer and all else 
moves at a pace of languor  

i pause to cherish the change

yet the quibble within me is of the
notion that my wish of loving and
being loved is not slowed by the winds
of the north

and while i sit alone pondering

lifes’ moment, somewhere in the
distant not of place or time,
all of this will not have been
in vain

 

a storm within

rain falls as a sheer curtain that

drops from grey clouds whose
forms are silhouetted barely discernible
in the dark of night as thunder crawls in a
rumble then a harrowing snap, crack,
then the whitest of light traverses
like a spiders web throughout the whole
expanse of the sky  and 
like a jagged spear, a shard
travels down touching the earth.
the oceans white caps on top of waves,
jumping, can be seen rolling onto the edge
of the black horizon

the sand is a cold wet between my toes

as i dig them under the top layer,
my arms wrap around my folded legs
gathered up against my chest.
i sit here pondering my fate amidst
an angry storm that hovers ominously
above my head and yet i fear not
its presence for in my mind a storm
of its own lingers as the synapses charge
even more actively than this world outside

this solitary summon is but a moments choice,

a reprieve from the strife, the pangs of life
that have enveloped my being, giving me
a posit, a channeling of queries. why so much
turmoil is pronounced amidst humankind while the
angry voice of Nature repossesses its home upon this
rock floating aimlessly through a universe whose
consciousness is niether known or understood
by a mutated gene form species called ‘man’?
a presence that has been nothing less than careless
whilst blaming an indeterminate force, a divinity,
as responsible for our creation and
for leaving us here to flounder

a golden autumn day

the golden autumn’s eye rises slowly

and with a crispness in the air
it shimmies off fields of grass
the earth landscape is crystal lined
as the dew freezes in the cool of night
the croaks of toads no longer heard
the crickets sit silent and the cicadas
have left harden shells for toddlers eyes
to ooh and ah and somewhere tiny hands will
carry them into classrooms to scare the others

the rumble and the squeal of brakes, the flashing

amber and red lights fill the darkness of the morning
on the corners of suburban streets  
little feet begin to climb up rubber lined steps
inside the large lemon yellow wheeled capsule
that will transport them to brick façade edifices
inside are marble floors of long corridors, echoed
sounds of slamming locker doors and that pernicious
Pavlov’s ringing bell, the call for the gathering of
marching feet, collecting into designated rooms and
the sounds of scurrying squeaking soles of tennis shoes
leaving eerily, barren now, the soon to be hallowed halls  

distant from where this all began in suburban streets

smoke is billowing from open garage doors where
cars sit idling waiting for the hot cup of coffee
to be placed atop the hoods or roofs of Fords, Chevys,
Buicks or Hondas and the ‘puters’ are slid into back seats.
for some there’s waving of their partners looking out
the front window or front door steps holding in their arms
the smallest of their progeny to say their diurnal goodbyes
as the car backs out onto the street to battle and maneuver
through jamming streets of cars and trucks, horns and
blinking lights, journeying on to their offices or cubicles
where commerce begins and for some a good beginning of day
and outside the yellow eye of day now hangs at eight o’clock.

embracing october

october, month for reflection

did I participate in life enough
give of myself sufficiently ?

i close my eyes

picture spring and summer's past
now, i welcome the rustic autumn
(mamasita’s favorite time of year)

lift into my arms 

my aging blind and deaf lap friend
whisper in his ear
gracias for giving me your love

we shall sit together

by the fireplace and when
you feel up to playing
i’ll carry you and place you on a pile
of raked leaves, you so love to play in

we will invite your sister

sit on the patio lounge chair or
on a blanket on the grass
watch the stars gather to applaud
our bonding love

your mother, my human love, will sit next to us

and we will hold you with a warm embrace,
kiss our way through the chill of night

then i will carry you slowly into the house

where the fire still crackles in the fireplace

and we will lay you both on our bed
next to us and thank the universal spirit
for one more day with you