The value of depreciation

Deny that we are better whole
For love is loss! Sacrifice is loss!
All the giving takes its' toll,
gambling on return, a coin of toss.
Tho' loves worth the investment-
it does yield a return.
Albeit, a candied sentiment
made of sweet words we learn.
O how do we know its true,
Not counterfeit in kind?
All love that 'tis shiny and new
in growing time goes blind.
For spotting true love there are no glasses,
But lo when you're not e'en looking, that love surely passes!

Image Published by D. McKay, Philadelphia (http://archive.org/details/talesfromshakesp00lamb3) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. "Tales from Shakespeare" by Charles and Mary Lamb, 1922.


*Inspired by Shakespeare, 1564-1616 (who isn't?) "Sonnet 116"

Terra Firma

The mountains spill their dirt downhill

And the hills give up on the valleys

The palette mixed of mud and will

With wanton erosion to appease

Nothing one can keep for good

All things betrothed by buried Earth

In all trees being equal to wood

Why the emeritus mirth?

See the mounds abound the domain

And the offspring shoots rise above

No human souls whole may remain

If which no one should love

And take notice of roots strangled in fear

And the green lights trying to escape

What could grow without a drop of tear

If the soil won't stay in shape?

*Inspired by "Love's Philosophy" by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)

Image By U.S. Forest Service ([Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Elkhorn Mountains, Oregon.

Skipping Serendipity

Some glide along a smooth path

floating along without mirrors or water

under the masted will of breezy air

while Destiny draws closer

Some notice themselves in shadows

outlining the mark of forward and aft

while Destiny draws closer

starboard, a siren caught your name

Some feel their own gravity pulling

while Destiny draws closer

plunging its authoritative weight

swayed by promising warm fronts

While destiny draws closer

taken in trickles and torrents still

Some remain lost at sea, adrift

serendipity filling the mast.

Image by John William Waterhouse (1849-1917)  [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The Silent Tree-ment

With our thunderous steps upon ground
                                  perishing hallow
Let us linger for a quiet moment
                                  over limb
Listen for its silent snap
                                 muffled honeyed sap
Blankets of moss penetrate porous barks
                                 patching poultice

This very today falls
                                 branches in the woods
Seeds are sown
                                 ideas gurgle and churn

The creatures take notice of our
                                sharp curiosity
In shadows and secrets
                                of fallen forests
The conductor waves his wand
                                 all sounds obey.

Composed 1/31/15.
                         

Image By Miaow Miaow (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

"It's always too early to quit" NVP

Haiku II

Days I want to quit-
visit, but are not welcome long
because they are wrong...

Partly Moony

Do you ever notice the moon

still up

when the sun is out?

It's almost as if

we jumped ship

or planets rather...

Did you know that the planets are all considered to Be

“Heavenly Bodies"

-despite being Full and Round: Misshapen and Edgy?

Do you think la Luna is ever jealous

of our mesmerization and infatuation

in sunrises and sunsets: the ominous, important, Solar Eclipse?

(forgot to foretell) I wonder why don't we start at night

(dark abuzz) I wonder why not, awake from dark till dawn?

(too much fun) ‘cuz we'd all burn sleeping in the sun.

We seem to only care, predict, and talk small in our weathered way,

observing her minute phases, all around Helio's plans for the day,

our mandatory compliance-participation-with his lackadaisical display...

Where, O’ where are all the star-crossed

lovers of night, blind with delight

when the moon shines her loveglow, set on spotlight?

“Calling All Attention”

To those not paying attention

when comets wink and fall.

By now, you're waning in care

from obscure sliced crescent ideas

shadowy slivers of shy: you’ve watched these Anonymous nights go by…

Harvest or Blue: Blood or King,

Christened by a haloed ring.

Named the “Lunar Province of Mankind"

as recorded in old Hermetic nocturnal notes.

I noticed the moon in the afternoon stalling

like me, afraid of the dark, of Time,

rapt by the pull of the moon.

Incredible image of the full moon By Jon Sullivan [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Incubus

Resembling the unwakeness of a Dream

blurred outlines

crisp sounds that echo hollow

sleep standing, meandering adaze

muffling the view

obscured by heavy air

pushing on pores

licking your eyelashes

in salty sentiments

sealed and enveloping

brilliant opaque light

shadows perceptions of depth

an oceans deep breath

fractals that float

bonded in obstinate anti-gravity

careless of time

synchronized now

grey matter of mass

drapes close on the sky

sinking in silky soliloquy 

rolling softer than thunder

momentary miasma

of soggy bliss

soup was ordered as a starter

to wet ones appetite

for a serving full of

mist

delayed

by fog.

Image  from Wikimedia Commons "Fog" (Public Domain)