Sunday, January 1, 2012

Unfolding of the Journey 2012


To pluck or be planted
In the moist dry soil
Trodden
A seasoned
Time Under heaven

Through birth or death
To kill or heal
That is the question

As the dry leaves break down
Manifesting
The lack of crystals and emerald blades

Weeping will build
Upon the laughter of frowns

To mourn or dance
That is the dilemma

We shall embrace
And throw away stones together

When we refrain
We shall number the lost
Not keep

But purge
The sewn silence

The word of Love will be spoken
Not Hate
Peace
Not War

527,040
"Five hundred twenty seven thousand and forty
How will you spend them?
(Inspired by Ecclesiastes 3)

Happy New Year!

Friday, December 30, 2011

The Celebration of One's Mankind



Glistening glasses of  champagne bubbles.

Sparkling about.

Cardboard golden paper hats.

Flimsy and whimsical.

Noisemakers and tinny hollow sounds.

French Silk pie from Baker’s Square.

Shrimp and sushi as friends and family embrace.

Meaningless or mindful traditions?

Crowds packed in frigid weather just to see the crystal fall.

Another year passing.

The culmination of good and evil.

Wicked smiles and joyful grins.

Streamers floating about.

Littering the streets.

People pounding on stainless steel.

For what?!  What does it mean?!

Another year wiser?  Another year of uncertainty?

Children’s delightful laughter.

Prancing about.

Couples sharing a romantic kiss.

Others alone in an empty house.

A time for vows and resolutions.

To be fought.  To be gained.

Auld Lang Syne.

Memories fleeting by…

On long cold cobblestone streets.
And clock towers.

Ringing the chimes.

A celebration of one’s passing.

And one’s beginning.


A new start.

A fresh awakening.

A pouncing of the old ways.

Lessen the stagnancy of tomorrows.

Lost letters,

Unreturned correspondences,

Broken promises.

No longer!

New caresses.

Lighter steps.

A welcome glance and dance to the day.

A scattering and smattering of one’s thoughts and one’s dreams.

Upon the concrete walks of the morrow.


Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind….

( a re-posting...Happy New Year...Lorely)


Friday, December 23, 2011

Starbucks


I don’t even like coffee, not really
yet the warm confines speak to me.
They welcome my soul to a place of solace and comfort.
Sienna tones and cinnamon frothy smells
seduce me away from the daily drudge and grime.
Learning what is good, what still remains,
as this world slowly solidifies away.
Sip by sip.

Listening to the dusky sounds of Mahalia Jackson,
escaping from the harried shoppers.
Hurry, Worry, Panic, Shop!

Who has time to listen to the silver bells?
To take in the brisk air of a live nativity scene?

Christmas, what is that really?
How does a baby’s birth speak to our planet?
Who has time to listen to the baby’s cry?
To envision his sacred mother?

O Come let us adore Him…
Are we adoring Him?

Or have we become one of many who scurry past the bellowing symphony of a Holy Night?
Not even hearing it’s reverberations.

Yet everyday, opportunities await.

A cold person yearning for shelter.
A widow or widower in distress.
A child spending another night in fear.
A young man fighting his addictions.
A person looking for acceptance.

How do we break out of our warm toasty homes?
to welcome the prodigal ones?

Tis much more pleasant to sip creamy coffee and watch the world go by…..


This season may we take a moment
To hear the baby’s cry amongst the crowd, the sacred.

And stop and reflect on God’s goodness.
His first gift to mankind.

To see his face in the glistening ornaments hanging on the tree.

To pause and be thankful.

“O come let us adore Him…”











Sunday, December 18, 2011

Affirmations

There shall a star from Jacob come from
and a sceptre shall rise out of Israel....

Sometimes the greatest of gifts remain untouched
remains lying in a vacant cluttered cupboard
crumbs spilling about...
The empty hollow taste,
the touch of a friend's attempt,
a glimpse of but a shadow of the past.

Our lives are filled with crumbs and palate and empty morsels
mostly given from the heart.
The question is what to do with the particles that remain.

Hide them under a bushel ?No!
Talents which lay unspoken can be brought about
just by the faint affirmation of love

Holidays escalate the clatter
the loud din which occurs in whispered corners
and kids frolicking about...
A manic pace rushes in to absolve of guilt

"This little light of mine....I'm going to let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine..."

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Greatness


It was one of those mystical evenings
where it seemed the whispers of the dawn were speaking
Visions of greatness
Dance in the purple rain.
The pungent smells realize
raindrops which meld
upon glistening pavements
will find their way upon skin
Breathing in the voice
The touching of fragments.
An ordained frock
upon the shoulders
gives way to beyond the ordinary
Or does it?!
Tinkling of the ivories
bent in the wind
seeking what appears
behind the curtains
Turns into a smile
An embellished hand
begins to hear the song
to belong
to dance in the purple rain.

Monday, October 31, 2011

Twilite



The blood thirsty lurks.

Seeking around corners.

Predators oh so delicious about.

Eagle eyes changing color with the wind.

From amber to golden browns.

Tell a story of young love, everyone’s dream.

The strong in self control.

Unyielding to another’s passions and desires.

Clawed by the piercing of vultures. 

Cold and white skin embellished in crimson.

The need to get closer.

Fangs touch and break through the barriers.

Pupils dilated ready for another violent thrust.

A kill. As lust enrages within the human grip, sweat and saliva.

Enticing innocence. Coupled with the darkness.

Wanting to protect.  Wanting to torture.

The blackness engaged masked in clouds of fog and doom.

To see the glimmer of  prism sunlight glittering on the skin.

To taste the drops of frozen sweat.  Mirrors crashing.

Flying above the everglades.  The forest draws one near.

To seek the forbidden.  The lost. The committed.

A self- fulfilling legacy of destitute belonging.

Ample bosom, brunette locks, embraces the unwilling.

  The touch of bodies. Yielding.

Swollen lips.  The kiss of death.

As the blood drips. Scarlet.

The dichotomous choices of the morrow.

Ahh to hide one’s face in the shadows.

Never to have sunlight upon the skin. 

A vampire’s loss.

The beast within.

Temptation prowls about.

(To anyone who has ever dreamed of a scarlet lover...)
Happy Halloween


  

Thursday, October 6, 2011

The Unencumbered Genius




Silently I wonder what it is like to lie unencumbered in a shallow grave
listening to the mind of one's genius
the cerebellum never ceasing.

T'was it all in vain?
Bringing a generation of touch.
The family mourns.

Technology slows if just for a moment.
Yet to live life fully in one's passion
not waiting for another's
claiming to find that niche
and embrace it wholeheartedly.

What did he surmise that none of us could?
Did he spend his life chasing quadruple rainbows
because he knew they existed?

Yet we must capture that first photograph to prove t'was real

In my daily life may I choose to simmer in the afterglow of one's brilliance
and never cease
chasing rainbows. 


1955-2011