Holy Day a holiday

my eyes open to the day

a vision of the sun awakens me
but even if it were a morning
of rain and grey
my eyes did open
truly a Holy Day

a soft, a heavenly coo from my

open window comes
a turtle dove, I think,
a pastoral sound of peace it brings
blessed I am, that my ears this morning hear
truly a Holy Day

and when my arms raise

my legs lift me from
a supine nighttime of dreams
that I can walk
and my voice can sing
today I celebrate
making this
a holiday
 

 

*for Susan at Poets United

hummingbird, a no show

 

the hummingbird today did not show

its wings too cold to flap in their flurry
the honey or sugar water too frozen
to sip through their tiny straw
 

robins were late to their morning feeders

cardinals, sparrows and blue jays
didn’t awaken in their symphony
the wind was too chilly on their throats
 

crabapple buds on the tips of limbs

were veiled in white from a sprinkle of snow
that should in April be ready to sprout
as the salmon in rivers be ready to spawn
 

although in winter the sky turns to grey

this morning’s spattering of white clouds are on
display as shards of sun rays pierce through
showing beginnings of the Spring’s rainbow hue
 

my spirit is slightly disheartened

by the tease of the cold and snow
yet I knew that soon in the day
this Nature’s discomfit will go away
and the crimson and green will
once again come out and play
 

when this be so, smiles will reappear

water fountain basins will be uncovered
robins and sparrows will come and bathe
and nearby the feeders of sugar water
will be visited by red throated humming birds
their gossamer wings will flit about
in that  familiar buzzing sound

*just wanted to write a small diddy for all
  the disheartened souls waiting for that Spring day

a spring day

the long enduring winters breath

has traveled on and left
now arriving from its nesting sleep
the dress of spring in an aromatic vest

the blood of life now scurries about

with vibrancy like white cap streams
flowing o’er the nascent seedlings
that survived the cold of winter
and the hibernating fauna have
awaken from their sleep

the sky has stripped away its grey

now parades in its naked powder blue
and a large gold shining pendant hangs
prominently from a cotton spool 

in the spirit of lady spring

the hardy souls now dance
leaving behind the sullen drab
the gluttony drink and food
the excesses that come from the
discomfort of dwelling winter blues

grasp gently the tiny hands of

our children hold them closely by
our sides walk them in the daylight
underneath the moon and stars
speak to them of the cacophony in  
life’s journey both of its serendipitous
wonders and the ravages of its storms

today, though, I’d like to see a smile

a spring of step from elder lovers
watch canoes round the rivers bend
as wisteria aligns its banks
along with hyacinth and redolent flowers

in the dusk when the day is done

and the sun waves its good byes
i’ll raise my hands in praise of
life’s spirit in thanks for the joy
we shared on this spring day

life's reflection

there’s love inside these eyes

they look and observe without judgment
a smile evinces when they squint
forces my mouth to reflect the same

deep Inside these eyes there’s a soul that’s

howling like a wolf saying goodnight
like a dolphin soaring over its abode
slaying the waves waving at the moon

a wrinkle has appeared where before
it wasn’t, right at the edges of my eyes
it appears showing that smile of earlier
whilst observing two lovers stroll the beach

my nose flares usually from disdain

when children cry alone for no one else
is home and the cupboards they are bare
and too many just don’t care

grey hair, now, have taken the place

where once  midnight black that in the sun
would sheen with reddish tint
along with youthful muscles taught
before the curse of age came so wrought

in this reflection deep inside these

soulful eyes there’s love wishing to be
shared with all that lives inside this
mirror even though it is said…
‘love tethers one to this world’
then let it be so because this is
all this reflection knows  

 

within my grasp

i thought that I had finally learned

how to hold a flower in my hand
without breaking its stem,
just appreciating its  beauty

for so long I had walked by

these patches of wondrous growth
and I would wince shyly at them
and walk right by

before I knew of their aesthetics

how to smell their lavender or sweet
lemon waft, realize how they paint the
landscape of Mother Nature with lovely colors

i would walk on by and sometimes

trample on them just because they were there
they felt soft, selfishly, underneath my bare feet
without the care that they might
be feeling my destructive apathy

but no one ever told me of their beauty

how to grasp them gently and caress
the uplifting spirit inside them, how they
can entice my soul with joy

when next I did notice the wonderment

of a yellow pedal with white center flower
i plucked it from the ground knowing
i would have to water it and share it
with the sun so that it would live

for a while we enjoyed each others

morning and evening smiles but after
a while I forgot to change its water
and it became shaded away from the sun
i ignored it because of other life distractions
it wilted and died and my soul with it

i had finally learned to love but became

complacent and so what should have lasted
forever dissipated into that emptiness I
had felt for so long before

it was in my grasp and I let it die

my Abril

Abril, the month when my heart

started beating where I inhaled
the breath of this World
giving me a gift called life

conceived in a warm Mexican

month probably in August
near a playa where a gothic
cathedral’s steeple blocks the
silhouette of mountain tops

my journey in this path

has brought me to this moment
dressed in the garb the seasons,
the years have cloaked me in

the suns have darken my skin

moons have glistened my eyes
what my hands have held
arms have embraced and
my lips have kissed is who
I am today

my eyes have seen the sweetness

of Spring and shed tears in the dark
and cold not just of Mother Nature’s
bold portentous moods but of Man’s
fickle hearts and souls  

here today my birthday month of Abril

the smile of Spring appears
and its showers of joyous tears
behold the warmth of my heart
I give to you today, my love,
in the longevity of my years

dedication: MH370

what thoughts had come

to those whose souls now
float above the oceans floor
while falling, falling
they call out to their love ones>>>

~forgive me for what I did not say
what I meant to on another day
in my mind my heart I wish for
you to know how long I loved thee for~

~when you walk about the lily patch

remember I walk there with you
or when you till the soil in Spring
I’ll hold your hand to pat the dirt
upon the seed bud of the thyme~

~and to our children when they play

in the swing, the slide, running the bases
when they swim or fly the kite
let them know that I cheer for them
and embrace them in their joy
kiss their scrapes on their elbow
or their knee
if they need me, so~

~and all who’ll cry for me

save your tears, count them
that’s how often every day
I wish for you to say, I love you,
to your father to your mother
your sister and your brother
anyone who has touched your heart
let them know before you part~

wayward bliss

 

in the still of the night

when silence is captive
(cuando silencio es prisionero)

sleep is sprinkled upon
the day walkers and the
nocturnal souls awaken

words still resound and

hover about unyielding to
the calm of when all
is well in the heart and the
(todo bien esta en el coracon)
mind ceases and desists from
the days unrest

trying to reflect upon

the love that once filled
all caverns of my heart
when my tears were of joy
(cuando a llorar alegra era)

not those that come of
when love walks away

your touch of me is no more

I so miss the warmth of
our embrace when for no reason
it would follow from our smiles
and our wordless stares deep
into each others eyes
(metido en cada unos ojos)

now words are being used to strip

the shield of our hearts care
like daggers they’re flung
carelessly piercing and shattering
leaving in despair a once
fairytale fair

you tell me I’m selfish when now

I ask to hold your hand, to embrace me
(Te pregunto, dame la mano abrazar)

so that once again I can feel
our warmth, kiss with that gentle bliss
and maybe remember what has
now come to be remiss

I ask…do you still love me or have you

(pregunto…todavia me amas o encuentraste otro)

found another…only because when days
go by and by and by without your once
loving stare I'd try to entice
with my smile that once could
captivate your woman wiles

now you look away and for

too many quiet moments without
those words of which even before
I’d have to ask of you to share,  
to say…I love you darling…
(a decir…te amo mi amor)

guess I am selfish in that way

I am a walker in the day

yet my eyes no longer rest
(mis ojos a descansar no esperan)

at night for my dreams have
been replaced by what must be
the nocturnal reveries of the
wise old but selfish owl  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

lasser faire

she captured me with eyes

of cerulean hue
a smile that would inspire
dolphins to dance above
the ceiling of the sea
her silken bronze
and golden hair made
even the sun stare
but it was the lecher fairness
of her skin that my desire
had spun a web

some still speak about the

treachery of my lust for her
and how it went beyond the pale
but knowing of life’s short
temporal stay I gathered little notice
to what others say
and so I’d call her name in my
most seductive tone which she’d
then respond in a soft lascivious moan

we played and kissed

underneath the grand old oak
rolled about like bunnies hop
making love under the lantern
of the night while cicadas chirped
and nocturnal eyes would
hoot and wink unabashedly
as our primal loins ruled
and our naked toes entwined

await your kiss

carry me upon your calm

embrace me with the breath
of solace

envelop me in your peace

hold me with a dire
for love

fill the emptiness

my soul has been
captive to

tell me in your words

of how my pain
is but the storm
before the calm

explain to me

how this temporal shell
when discarded shall
free my spirit

your door will be

left playfully ajar
welcoming me into
your abode

and I will see those

who smiled at me
amidst pain

let us share this

a fortuitous gift
that even in the dark
you found me to kiss

spirit of a stroll

hey my beautiful friend

let us hold each others hand
and walk softly whispering into each
others  ear the memories that for
each of us were so very near

let’s share the reveries

where verdant pastures roll
in back woods where we stroll
taking off our shoes to let
the grass and wheat fields tickle
between our toes

and when there’s no more to say

lets coddle in the silence that is
ours alone as we look up
at the faces of powder white
following us throughout the day
until they give to us the night
 

we are so well aware our worlds

could someday separate on paths
taking one to meet the universal
spirit while the other walks along
this pathway for a little longer stay

we also know that in the realm

of everything we shall one day meet
again and we may not have hands to hold
but together our common souls shall stroll

 

simply said

many try to weave a web

like a maze where one may
or may not find the way

I sew with simple lines

of thread to sew, to stitch

a tattered hem

my words are simple

they no longer wish
to fog in metaphoric mist

they speak of what and how

my mind has witnessed and
feels my normal hearts beat bliss

when once I too had painted

with many amalgam hue
now I only paint with yellow, green,
red and blue

lead grey and blue ink still stain

my fingers with the simple breath
of life I witness during day light and
the wondrous dreams of night

of the pain in sorrow and the

joy of laugh the tears of anguish
and a smile of pure delight

when all is said and done

writ sewn with a simple thread
is all that’s needed
in repairing the frayed hem  

it is not with sparkle or

a maze of words that will
tell the tale of where I’ve been
and who I am

a short written line and paragraph

shall entail much of what my eyes
have seen how my heart feels
in my simple way of being

 

 

welcome is the morning kiss

welcome Is the morning kiss

for when before my sleep
the viper’s hiss spoke of
portentous comings

lovely is the suns embrace

upon my face and mine
ears hear the warming breezes,
my eyes see them play with
trees and grasses

they blow, whistling of their journey

from not so far away
mostly from the north and west
their incantations are of how
the once joyous birds no longer
play In their air for it burns
of human rage

cherished is today, for tomorrow
may not be, but before I lament
the message of the wind
I shall praise the day and
kiss the daisy for this moment
while my eyes are still open
and life still holds my hand

dark friend

Oh darkness you give space

to light, holding all objects
in their place while they
travel here and there

stars burn seeming inexhaustible

throwing their light
onto moving rocks making
them shimmer and they ornament
the blackness of your dress

they all move freely

some with burning tails
yet some are made of ice
as they travel about
at the speed of light

what energy is possessed

with dark gloves holding them
as they do their thing, wanton
yet seemingly free running,
across the blackness
of your space

but is this face truly black

or do my eyes deceive
whilst all your toy stars
burn in white, red, green  
and gold some consumed in
bellies of black holes
light and all
 

oh dark energy, do you have

a conscience like I do,
a cognition that knows all
and holds the strings that move
this universe in the dark

our eyes see the light

and the objects hurling in flight
but we are blind to the energy
held in the darkness where all reside

a dark energy that dispells theories of

dimensions and relativities in a universe,
maybe even more than two,
with strings and an embylical of consciousness
incomprehensible to our human view

innocence of a strident word

when i walk barefoot on jagged stone

i think of the soothing cool if it was white sand
and as i walk on sharp and bristly shrub
i remember the soft full grasses
underneath my naked feet

when my words sometimes come strident

and they dwell upon the sadness of things
i, too, recall the mellifluous incantations of
Shakespeare, Joyce Kilmer, Shelley and Poe
and i thank them

not always do i choose perforce lamentations

in the subject of my words
but like tickling sprinkles of rain can give way
to a thunderous and ominous storm,
the crumpled debris and broken glass
abutting sidewalk edges all are the character
of reality that reside in the street

i also see the lilies and daffodils sway

in warming breezes of spring
the pristine lakes reflecting the verdant
hills and the ornamental cotton figurines
teasing the finger tips of our precious sun

i see the baby smile in mother’s arms,

the child playing with her pup,
two lovers embracing in the park,
seagulls flying o’er his silver strands of hair
as he feeds them whilst they hover
in the air and little joy ascends in this,

my words can come softly, about…

when innocence prevails

  

a flower sits still

a flower sits still

its beauty speaks loudly
clouds march in quiet step
yet so poignantly dress
the crinoline of an azure sky
the wolf and the hawk
traverse their homes cape
without disturbing sound
as the forest and the sky
applaud them with an ovation
of freedom

my heart beats unheard

it embraces the human spirit
but tears fall silently recognizing
the breath of apathy that pervades
it hovers not so subtly over the
souls of many for they care not
how they disturb the calming
silence of peace with their angry
hands of violence and war

the flower no longer sits still

nowhere to be found
the clouds have turned grey
with a pungent smell
of burning flesh
the hawk no longer flies over
and the wolf howls no more
for the sounds of death
have disturbed the silence
of the living soul

once

once,

when  my ears were small
words were few
little hands, little feet
barely used

a song bird sang,

to my heart beat
its rhythm,
its melody

once,
years accrued

words came
my finger tips
became agile on
guitar strings

a song bird freed

from my lips
of when my ears
were small 
with little hands
and little feet

a melody and rhythm

to the beat
of your heart now
touches the strings
with my finger tips

it's your song, mamasita

hold me

hold me

if but for a moment
fill an emptiness,
lately, ever present  

a void
a sense of loneliness
vulnerable

I’ve skipped the stone in the stream

walked the path in the woods
listening to the birds

witnessed the wonderment

of a silhouette fly into a crimson sun
winked at stars of night
waved good morning to the
waking golden eye

for this I am grateful

solitude is my friend

and reminds me of
how small I am  

this emptiness,

ever so salient

walking softly

...'there isn't anything that changes anything,
and what we say or do merely brushes the tops
of the hills, in whose valleys everything sleeps.'
Fernando Pessoa, 'The Book of Disquiet'

i’m walking softly and slowly

now days
i wish to hear my surroundings
without disturbing them
wish to see them carefully
so my pace is such
stop and watch, stop and touch
smell, inhale deeply
this now is mine
not to keep but to enjoy
wish all could share
especially those who can’t hear
those who can’t see
without hands or feet
whose hearts are scorned
whose mind is distraught
enjoy with me
the music of this moment
love, itself,
cannot be possessed
if shared selflessly,
one possesses all

be here now, remember