let the music play

when it’s time to sleep and all your daytime reveries

have been gathered in that cavern of your mind
be calm be silent and let them run amok for that is
how they arrived and wish to be set free as dreams

the universes’ synthesis and constancy is chaos

in this flux it has lived much longer than us
and gathered such wonderment in its dissonance
for it knows so many more secrets than we do

when the wind blows it does so in swirls and straight lines

in all directions without seemingly in rhythm or sync
and when the leaves sway in its grasp they dance and jitter
without step as do the ripple and waves of the sea

and if we listen carefully to the trickle of raindrops and

know that no snowflake is the same we then recognize
that all is unique in its makeup from dusk to dawn
let the universe music play as it may for it is what makes
the night, the day

 

 

 

• for poets united; midweek motif: happiness is accepting all life gives you and puting it in perspective

Life is precious

hate and prejudice have been on a wanton killing spree

a callousnessness of discontent comes and without
consideration a soul is eviscerated from its incarnate
being and so uncaring of the human emotional toll

where does the mind reside who cares little of

the lily, the daisy, the red begonia that it tramples
on or the innocence of life that is disemboweled
from a day of sun or nights starry sky

when a pain is so excruciating that it envelops the heart

it seems to feed a wanting to eliminate its surroundings
with non-discretionary imposing of torture without
regard for the anguish and pain it imparts upon other life

my mind, my heart, my soul does not comprehend

such mindless, soulless, heartless pronouncements or
actions that seem to be assailing the inherent nature
of being and the value of love in the world of today

i cry unselfishly for our children, for the forests,

for the oceans, for the free feather fliers, our terrestrial
friends needing to endure man’s carelessness
and so I hoot with the owl at night and squeal with the
whale and chirp with the dolphin, trumpet with elephants,
roar with the lions, whistle and tweet with the birds,
soar in awe with the eagle and howl with the wolf.   

 

face of aridity

in the face of all aridity and as the storms

now arrive at the behest of human unkind hands
the sunlight is bathed in grey, not from mist or clouds
the ocean waves boil with refuse as the smog haze air
turns days into nights much too early and our winged
friends refuse to fly o’er land that is care deprived 

so too, not till dusk, do terrestrials come out to play
for they are cautious of man’s scorched earth
where the winds no longer carry fresh breath of air
nor do they sway barren trees to dance anymore   

 

we, the caretakers, must awaken and lift up

from that pillow cover of mire where our heads have
rested upon for so long in a darken room of residence,
extricating ourselves, convinced  we’ve had no hand
in Earth’s laboring last breaths as we go to sleep
in denial but in ignorance and silence, we are complicit.

 

carefully, we must undress Mother Nature’s attire

to wash and rinse out the grime laden dress into which we’ve
clothed her and hang to dry and breathe her azure chemise with
white cotton sleeves and too, her pastoral skirt that will once again
sway in joyous winds and breezes where gossamer and feather wings
will once again fly and play

dia de mamasita

suns and moons have passed, it seems not so long ago

when mamasita to her maker was called home.

she needed her rest from a life that treated her with scorn

yet in spite of all her pathways aligned with thorns

she gave of kindness to those she thought more forlorn

her mellifluous singing voice would begin our day

and from just outside an open kitchen window birds

perched on a limb in a tree, she’d sing to them

and for a moment they would cease their chirping, 

their whistling and listen to 'Mamasita' sing for them

her voice still resounds  with solemnity in my soul,

memorable moments in my mind, her undiminished

love fills every chamber of my heart and for this gift  

i thank her not just because it’s 'Dia de las Madres'

but i think she knows that every morning i awaken

there's a picture of her on my mantle looking back at me

reminding me of the heart from whence and where i came

a moment with breath

i walk many a dawn until the dusk comes on

wondering what path now my steps may take

and what will these footings tell me

another sunrise ascends into the day and

another starry night and moon kissies mine eyes

aware that the translucence of light is now fuzzy

like light fusing through rain drops on eye lenses

objects farther than an arms length away are opaque

but still clearly i can hear the rustling about

as squirrels and chipmunks chase one another

and the robins, cardinals and sparrows sing to each other

and the scent of the cherry blossoms, red and yellow roses,

conifers and mint fill the air as my heart beats of joy

i sit on a bench in the presence of Nature’s gift

next to the love of my life as she holds my hand and although

without knowing of wherefore my next step shall avail 

 i embrace this; a moment with breath

mingle

so anguished is a heart

that has been devoid of
love or is unrequited or
one that has been scorned

so bloated with tears is a heart

that through departure it has lost
the soul and shared blood of one
who once ran through its veins

flowers and trees mingle with

birds and clouds with the sky
and rivers are fed from the rains
thus let play the fish in the oceans

the worms and rodents build castles

in the earth while other reptiles and
mammals carry about as they co-mingle
underneath the Sun and Moon

all is well when play and care is shared

then hearts are fond and the winds carry
this joy throughout so if one sees a
heart that aches, mingle with and thus
this shall be reciprocated

“the fountains mingle with the rivers

the rivers with the oceans, the winds
of heaven mix forever with a sweet emotion,
nothing in this world is single all things
by a law divine, into one another’s being mingle
why not i with thine?”
                           P.B. Shelley

word of the day

words are flowers written

they can incite the scent of pleasure
can twinkle in the eye from beauty
tears may flow when they touch the heart
and love can reside from their gift

i walk by a patch of roses and

turn to smell them as i ask of them
will you give a smile to the child that
next walks by you and the mother
whose woes are many, the soldier whose
lost his buddy, the father his daughter
with anosognasia

as the dark then veils the day and

even though my path i can no longer see
in my minds eye still i can smell the roses
recall their beauty and i hear their whispers
to a child, to the mother, to the soldier and
the father…all will be ok, just take a whiff
of me before you walk away

Love in the forest

when first we captured each other’s eyes

from where we stood, not so far,
a look and how it made each other feel
a common aura together brings
a first embrace, a warmth comes o’er
our two bodies touching, our hearts race
at a tender pace as our breath upon
each other’s neck gives way to
the nascence of our love

we gather moments and place them in our nest

where now our two hearts have come to rest  
the planting of our seeds make forests grow
while troubadours sing as fauna play
in the flora amidst the day

lay not still oh eyes and heart

for love never rests
stare into the reverie that comes with
the light of day, breathe its air
and in the night make dreams
where two lovers play
in that forest where they live
where they stay




* for imaginary garden with real toads *

my lips kiss thee

one week from today in the annals of time,

the twenty-fifth of April, i shall be one year older
and to proffer from this i shall say
to the wrinkles on my brow and to
the sag of skin where once the vanity
of youth had muscularity derived ,
my mind is still curious and non-sated 
consuming every moment ever so tenderly
and most gracefully  

still i bathe in the portentous waves in the sea 

and shall until my step no longer moves forward
or my hands no longer feel, or mine eyes can
no longer see the beauty of the night and day
and the eyes and hair of my lover so if i have to 
i shall request books in brail or a voice to read
the words of poets while music plays

i shall ask for the waft of flowers to always be

by my bedside with the window open so i can
hear when the morning comes from the song of
birds cheering the sun to rise and although i’ll
probably not sleep much for the fear of not waking
when the time comes that i must close mine eyes
to sleep and dream the dreams of all who left
before me, i shall ask a favor of thee, kiss softly
my lips, my lovely, so i can take thee with me

tiny toad and me

in the midst of slumber, in solitude i sit

listening to the stream and tiny wakes
that role softly over stones and sticks
and a small water toad stares up at me

i sit here and the stream runs and runs

the tiny toad sits underneath the soft cottons
that hover above slowly traversing the day's sky
and then with the stars of night, alone it sits
pondering its place in all that is

i sit enjoying cardinals, two bright red and another,

darker feathers, tweeting and chirping at each other
flying from cherry tree to oak, from an ash to a maple
tree and so the tiny toad and i sit still watching this
dance on the bank of the stream

grey begins to shade the light of day and the

breezes begin to wane of warmth from the sun
to a cool attire of dusk but the stream runs on
and the tiny toad and i sit pondering... wherefore
are we in all of this

now the dark of night begins to cloak the day

and my eyes begin to slowly drape like shades and as i
lay back wandering into a dream where i and my tiny friend
share the breath of air into this moment of slumber
in Nature's abode wondering… if neither one of us were here
would the stream still run, would the birds still cheer the day ?

be here, now

take a moment of your day and step outside

your house as now the warming breath
of season has come to bear
step out bare foot so that the soft now verdant
grasses can tickle between your toes

take but a moment’s time to look up at the

light azure sky and breathe in the breath of the new day,
turn and look at the blossoming tree standing there
in front of you for it has much to say

turn your eyes to the other side to see

the robin perched on a limb of that large oak tree
whose years far exceed yours and listen to the robin
whose song is but the channeling of the great oak
imparting wisdom of its many years

be awed as the robin flies away to play in its abode

for it has trumpeted and edified the days spirit
and your ears have now awaken to hear
lessons of the great oak tree, your eyes seeing the sky,
to feel the grass between your toes, to consume
the day

this moment will have seemed too fleeting

but when the time has come and your eyes
can barely focus, your breathing no longer
becomes easy and your feet can no longer carry
you outside, this memorable moment shall be
significant as it eases the angst of a departing soul    



* for imaginary garden with real toads

silent reality

find the sound of silence

and clarity will be mine
hear the notes played in the wind
and i’ll see beyond the grey
that plays the light

when night falls after day

the moon takes the space of the sun
then imaginings arise in my mind
as dreams replace reveries and in my
memories my soul finds life’s concubine  

when the tree shadow is cast from

a golden spray of sun and a flower
stretches, stretches reaching with its
petal fingers trying to touch the sky
my eyes smile from these aesthetics
captured of the day

then i close them to accommodate the stars
of night and welcome the surreal of reflecting
upon what they had seen and now my head
doth lay as multi-colors painted into dreams
where shadows are cast by the flora swaying
in the wind become spirits dancing and
the flowers now live in the clouds

which is my reality, i do not wish to choose

i only know when i hear and see the rivers run
into an ocean blue and see the eagle fly tickling
the bottoms of the feet of the dangling clouds,
the waft of a Spring day rain and the laughter of love
permeates the air then this is where i wish to lie
in life’s shadow in my soul when i die

  

 

sunflower hope

opened my eyes a sunflower

was peering down upon me
i fell asleep in a field of them
i lay there undaunted by a world
where hate and suffering abounds
and i feel a roar rumbling in the ground

birds fly wildly in and out of burning clouds

i look up hoping someday soon the clouds
will turn back to the color white and stars
once again twinkle free of embers burning
and sounds of songbirds fill the air muting
that roar of hatred from those that don’t care

so i lay awake starring upward to the sky

reflecting upon when first mama gave me birth
and my world was born with love of sorts
and every breath i took came with wonderment
where i had not yet been made to cope
with life’s burdens and a slight of option
they call hope

when i rise from here i shall take someone’s hand

or maybe speak into their ear or just write words
that are gathered inherent in my heart and soul
left by my ancestors of feather headdress , that being;
'war is not the answer’ . for they tell me stories
of when we’ve been there before in a world
that had crumbled to the ground and we now
are given a second chance to plant seeds
rather than destroy, leaving for our progeny
a better world all around

 

dancing in Spring

the dark envelops me

alone i sit wondering about my
destiny of the here and now which gathered
much from the before and so i sit here
pondering on the floor

thoughts of loved ones departed

titillate the corners of my eyes
with tear drops of my longings
and those that now i love, soon
also be bygones onto their be-goings

my heart is pained by the selfishness

of so much by so many in distances
near and far away but yet so close 
in the housing of our souls

so i dwell upon this but for a moment

only to purge it from my being and
now i reflect upon the tender of
my lovers kiss and the warm embrace
when she wakes from her sleep

my worldly riches are not so much

as others have and yet envy is not in 
this heart of mine to have nor my desire
for my wealth is measured by my health
and the treasure i have found in love

so hurry please, oh Sun of Spring and

awaken the day with birds that sing
and soft warm breezes so that smiles
will evince among all the faces and
i shall rise to dance in your warming
embrace to be eclipsed only by my lovers  
planting on my cheek a morning kiss   

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welcome, Primavera

the soft of night hovers over me

and we smile at each other as the
moon beams kiss my cheeks and the
stars glitter seemingly with a snicker
for the spirit of ‘Primavera’ (Spring)
has come to visit

the yellow golden orb rises earlier

awakening  in its silent warmth and
giving verve of  who its fingers touch
and the wait has been too long but finally
the cold grey has been pushed away
now dressing the day with Spring’s delight

where have you been oh sweet, sweet Spring

for you’ve been greatly missed amidst
the Winter’s cold that stayed it’s welcome
far too long as it has dampened the spirit
of smiles with its gloom of day yet at night
in cold despair the crackling embers in
fireplaces kept humble some tender moments

oh, Spring, please remove your winter coat

and show us your floral dress and let the
hummingbirds and honey bees dance along
with the passion flowers that align your hem
and that sunflower, let it sway in the breeze
with the flowing richness of your hair
blowing in the breath of warming air

please sit with me here let’s have some

morning sun drenched tea and let me
tell you of what Winter’s wrought upon
so many with its angry winds and frigid snow
the writ of history will tell its toll
but let’s now dwell upon the freshness
of your smile and that you, my Spring,
will give us the pleasure of your stay, a while   

 

  

 

 

unrequited man

his body vapors rise like smoke off burning embers
the sun beats down onto the rags of shirt and pants
the odor he emits offends all who walk by
even stray dogs and cats stop but for a moment
to relieve themselves upon this shell of a man
who lies there in a fetal position like a carcass
who’s soul awaits his second trip to Hell  

years prior he lay quiet in the same way in the brush,

in the bush, silent and breathless, as harrowing
swishes flew o’er his head leaving red and yellow firery
steamers with deadly intent felling limbs of trees and grasses
falling atop him as the AK47 lead  swish by to their end.
no flesh of his is taken by them tonight but soon daylight 
would unveil blood trails and human flesh lying strewn on
hills and dales which are discerned by a number
indentified in the writ of Vietnam’s myths and tales    

before his journey to hell he studied Socrates and

Plato, William James and Nietzche, military strategies,
tactics of campaigns by MacArthur, Patton, Bradley
and Churchill and his commanders, Pres. Johnson and
Generals, Westmoreland, Abrams and Weyan but now
in the rice fields with large mosquitoes like horse flies,
heat and humidity that could melt a stick of butter, he
lies waiting to scour the paddies for the target of his mission
and later to find the remains of his buddies whose blood
flows red atop the murky rice paddies along with carcass of
antlered-muntjac, boars and pot bellied pigs floating about

his return to the town he grew up, he is scorned, disparaged

spit upon like the stray dog and feral cats that now lay waste
on him and the uncaring human civilians who just walk by
knowing little about what he's seen, the incomprehensible he
was forced to do to survive without regard for life in order that
he and the few remaining buddies could come back home

reoccurring nightmares, flashbacks now fill his space and time

he doesn’t trust himself around people who scorn and sling animus
at him for now they all look like the enemy, the NVA, he was sent
to eliminate. so he curls up now in a dark space to escape his demons
and all who just walk by know little of this man who defended them
from a promulgated notion that communism was at their door step    
 

 

for Poet’s United Midweek Motif- A Man’s Day

eyes of March

March entered gently where i am but
distress from nature’s hand disrupted others.
some of us have weathered , minimally scathed,
the brutality of winter’s cold breath 

a quiet sense of spring wonderment is

peering around the corner and our
hearts and spirits soon to be sated by
a sensorial display of flora and aroma

and so too will come the verdant landscape

with pink, red and yellow buds ornamenting
tree lines and in some fields the fauna shall
graze amidst the golden wheat grasses that
dance with the wind like ocean waves

we will pull down from wooden beams

in garages our two wheel friends and
then pedal through neighboring streets
waving at familiar faces who’ve been
sheltering for months from the snow,
from the grey

our spirits shall rise, some to cherub levels

with sounds of playing, having been at rest,
round balls bouncing on pavement driveways,
the whack of bats on baseballs reaching three
and four hundred feet flying o’er fences
then a roar of voices cheering of their flight

and so the human-scape of joggers and bikers,

ball’ers and picnic’ ers shall avail the cold and
recent empty outside space with the warmth of
smiles and laughter and once again a sense
of verve and hope that all will be ok

 

surrendering to February

i surrender

     to the warmth of your breath

          soothing the nape of my neck

your head resting atop my shoulder

     your soft breast lay on my chest

          and we share our dreams lying next to each other

 the cares of the world lost in our nocturnal nest

     and the music of the moon and stars

         make tender our embrace

as we render our hearts our souls

     into this slumber ridding ourselves of our yesterary

        
          on this memorable last day of February

my heaven is you

 
your fingers long and slender

soft and tender when they touch me
to them i must surrender
and let my heart feel free
…y deje que mi corazon se siente libre

you enter into my life

by walking, standing near me
speaking gentle caring words
where you and i
into each other’s arms doth render
…en los brazos del otro render

whisper in my ear of our yesteryears

how we kissed in the dusk
before our first night together
and we held each other, oh so tight
promising our secret song only to each other
…prometiendo nuestra cancion secreta solo uno al otro

the deep azure in your eyes pierce my soul

your smile envelops me with rapture
and still your gentle touch long and slender
provides me in my waning years
the sustenance of the verve in life,
into my arms, you’ve helped me capture
…en mis brazos me ayudaste a capturar

i awaken in my heart to this in the mornings

wish for this to never end
and when it does which all must do
i shall carry in my soul the love of you and
onto my next sojourn which no matter where,
with you in my heart, will be my heaven
…contigo en mi corazon sera mi cielo