The hallowed vest

To reach toward the pyramid
Atop the burning light
E’er thrust and run and tally –
The trepid traveller’s flight

To be void of divinity –
Subtracted from the sun
Brightness dwindles as time allows
And peddles thoughts still young

Sounding like an orchestra –
The music sung by one
Though whispering – a baritone
Transcends the gathered throng

Who listen to the music
As if they hear Him still
Waiting the day the christened ground
Shares its ingress with some

Relieve one of their wherewithal
Comparison attests
The one atop the pyramid
Wears the hallowed vest.

The Hand

I stood beside the hand I held

And saw it tell a story

It spoke of years when time was young

And the years in sun and glory

It stroked my hair, and with a twist

Touched my elbow then my shoulder

Romance became companionship

As the two of us grew older

Sometimes I thought I’d lose that hand

It left through open door

As it walked away, I turned and thought

I’ll hold that hand no more

Time passed by that open door

In a haze I saw the hand

Walk under the porte corchere

To the courtyard where I stand

I felt a crisp and ardent feeling

Indescribable to me

With fingers interlaced –

We strolled the beach-front,

To the sea.

 

first published on cosmofunnel.com

The birds that chirp before flying

The sun and the moon
And the stars and the sky
The laughter that bursts
In the birds that chirp before flying

The water that brings
A saviour to life
After looking down
At the flowers now blooming

The essence, the ingress
Seeps through the room’s open window
The day sees the sun
Shining brightly above

Touch your palm with my hand
Soft and supple – divine
Bringing a peaceful transition
To the wings of the dove

Look right in your eyes
And your eyes right in mine
And if one feels
The sun’s less than strong
We will wait with a patience
For summer to build

And when it doth come
And is felt overhead
It becomes like a pedestal
Finally led
To a quintessential
Parenthetical being

You are my sun and my moon
You, my dear, are my sky
Come, touch my heart
I know it is beating –

For you –
My sweet, my love –
Howsomever so fleeting.

I think of thought…

What do I think of thought

Or can I only feel

A touch as tender as the breeze

Or hard as bovine –

‘fore the veal

What do I think of thought

What does she think of me

As hard to the touch as a scab

Or soft and supple

Alike thee

Bereft of kindness –

Or genteel

Like an edelweiss to me

She sees the sun

And makes it real

Glistening – delights the sea

Gravitate to Earth without a force

Magic sensed and written on

Below – the park – a round-a-bout

A tree, with branches

Bark and frond

That listen to the overt mood

The cumbersome-ness of the room

They hear disorderly array

And come to right things very soon

What do I think of thought

What does she think of me

A touch so tender as my mood

So precious as the sea

Travails with a conscience

It came from far away

And nestled nearer home

All the while beside me

From birth to when I’d grown

 

My travails with a conscience lay

Still active – I had known

It came from far away –

Perched by my very own

 

And every time I saw her

She looked peaceful –

Like the sand

Reaching out from yonder

Saying; Come, now –

Hold my hand

 

Whenever I would touch her

She’d shiver – as if scared

I’d think, again, and wonder

Whether storm-clouds over there

 

Would rain on the parade

That had gathered, with the band

Yet my travails, with a conscience

Would reach out, and hold my hand

Logged in…or out?

a light-hearted look at the travails of the computer age…

 

Dishevelled

Mixed up

Round-a-bout

All over where I shoulda been

Logged in now

Twitter-feed

Password setting

Sight unseen

If only there was understanding

Step back

Think

Deliber(ate)

Answers may be somewhere near

Instructions followed

Log in – late

Love it now

But hate is close

Unless I find the anecdote

Hidden meaning –

Is there one?

Feeling like I’ve just begun

Reboot – try!

It’s getting hard

Update – wait –

Takes time to start

Face up to facts

Ignore – it’s bliss

Understand and synchronize

Programs made for benefit

Updated here before my eyes

Download – save – enlarge to view

A photo taken

Me and you

Smile – oh so au natural

Print and frame

It’s background? Blue

Never-ending

Continue on

My mind – a haze

Too late to think

Move away

Log out – thank God

Find wet bar

I need a drink!

From inside now

Comparing who

And what I’ve been

To the pair we will

Become – as part

 

Of a new belief

With new beginnings

That tells me

Sunshine’s here to stay –

The darkest cloud

(a world away)

 

The scent I smell –

The freshest bloom

Seasons sprout –

And lover s’ groomed

 

Harvest from

The greenest field

Success is yearned

And feelings yield

 

A new horizon

Nearer home

The reason why

I build, I grow

 

Into a violet –

Scented sweet

Without my dear

Less than complete

 

Oh, my God –

Pray, tell me how –

You sense the world

From inside now

Loss

Loss

Oh, God,

What does it mean?

Am I alone

Yet near, beside

The one I thought

I’d have forever –

Experiences

Shared together

Now you’ve left

For better scenes

Still nothing, no-one

Comes between

The rose and orchard

We grew when

The garden bloomed –

The scent would spend

It’s time in what

Became a daze

Was it true love –

Or just a phase

Of a life spent

Lived to the full

Which force would win –

To push, or pull?

What dreams may come

And share my grief?

The one thing left

Was true belief

That one day

We will share a sky

Where we look in

Each other’s eyes

And say; I love you

Ever more

Your life is mine –

My life is yours

I could keep going

Here some more

Or calmer weather

Before the storm

Knowing that

I know not what

Is meant for me –

Or any other

That disowns

A true romance –

Who cannot walk the walk

Or dance the dance

That leads to

Disorganised array –

Found elsewhere –

A world away

Where the one true thing

Is belief

That one day

We will share a place

Looking in

Each other’s eyes

And say; I love you

Many times

Memories –

They’re always stored

Your life in mine –

My life in yours.

Succeed!

What does it mean to achieve

to think and feel

to love and grieve?

what does it say when we believe

to have faith

and strive to see?

but when one’s blind

is all lost?

or are other senses

used to find

what otherwise

will ne’er be gained

unless with patience

we refrain

from sudden action –

thinking fast

with such a thought

we’re ne’er to last

the distance needed

to succeed

and come again

as if to feed

our conscience –

that which thinks so slow

without which we share

no afterglow

yet if it’s there

we feed the air

and birds will fly

and eyes will stare

upon the scene

we cherish, first

like when we struggle

for a thirst

that hydrates

our sense, our need

as if we hunger

for a creed

that fills us

with the need to glean

the bluest sky

we’ve yet to see

and as our senses

feed our mind

what else is left

for us to find?

what else is there

for us to need

except to strive (and yearn)

to succeed?

Camellia

He walked amongst the many
and came across the one –
the one who made him feel
like he was walking on a cloud.

Wearing Leopard-spotted ‘happy shoes’
she was a slim little thing, five foot six at most,
wearing black, skin-tight yoga pants
that hugged her legs,
and a silky beige shirt hanging out over her hips
that showed her bare back when she bent down
to check for a book
on the shelf below her.

Her hair was black, long,
drooping over the nape of her neck
and resting half-way down
her slender back.

She rested her hands on her legs
lifted herself up from the crouching position
she’d maintained for a moment,
and as she stood up
she threw her hair over her left shoulder
and turned to face him.

When she walked her shirt slipped open at the front
to reveal her belly.
her soft, supple skin was like a baby’s bottom.
her face silky smooth, surely gentle to the touch,

She wore no make-up,
for there was no need to improve on perfection.
she had a gold stud in her lip,
but even that small admonishment
to her beauty only seemed to add to it

He felt his body changing
in ways over which he had no control.
he felt short of breath.
he was entering a place, a feeling, he was uncomfortable with.

Yet the feeling made him aware he was alive,
physically – mentally,
and able to appreciate the finer things.
he knew not whether to feel awakened and welcomed
to a brave new world
or whether he should feel aggrieved
by having been shut out of that very same world.

Had this girl awakened a sleeping spirit
or had she provided a teaser to something,
like a rainbow, that was just beyond his reach?

One girl – once. He had found his ‘camellia,’
blooming sweetly in the Spring.