Acme

               Image By Owen Lloyd (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Acme

The odoriferous redwood forest after rain

Smokey cats' suede paw pads on my fingertips

The pitch of a baby's boisterous belly laugh

Sweet watermelon sunny slurping smiles

This poem reflected in your eyes...

May Day, May Day

May Day, May Day

In a moment

the azure pre summer sky

FUMED!

from nowhere

plumed carbon black

ominous clouds amid a serene backdrop.

a bomb with no sound,

waiting.

Wretched silence plays notes on nerves

frayed.

Fierce gasps

gusts of billowing ash

snow of fire.

screams of sirens

wail frantically

thumping blades of helos 

cutting skies unseen

A white out all red aglow

this gray day in May.

Constricting breaths

with every gasp and gale.

Stoking and rising

from all horizons

caught in a cage

of an inferno blaze.

The dragon sky is breathing

igniting fear

Fire-nados churn

In the valleys of

glowing golden mansions.

A new day opens the still smoldering sky 

the crimson sun still rises.

The toll is taken

molten fragments

broken shards fused

a jigsaw puzzle with all the wrong pieces

a war in never won

when the smoke disappears

damage has been done

yet evermore

the heavenly blue sky

breaks through

without a scar,

traces of char

cannot touch

that which cannot be sooted or shattered

that which is indestructible

that which is fireproof.

The human spirit is our foundation

that stands eternally supporting

solidly holding on

to the important things

The immortal human torch.

which will always rise above the flames.

Published in the 2015 Embers and Flames Anthology by Outrider Press.

Young Love

Young Love

When our spirits joined presence

it was a miracle in essence

Intrigue flourished and mystified

The feeling could not be denied

You allured and compelled me

Drawn to you, you were all I could see

When I watched you from afar, gazing helpless

I saw a vision of pure bliss

Where my thoughts were once before dripping with sorrow

Living in dread, wondering if I will see tomorrow

I learned a painful lesson

That is was not love or devotion

It seems as is we melted together by the forging heat of touch

Bound by yearning, lust, passion, one can only take so much

It cannot be wrong if it feels this way

This love, I think it is, grows for you every waking day

Red Sea

This poem requires a brief introduction. Growing up you could always find in my possession at least one book I was reading and a poetry journal. At my grandparents insistence when I was 13 the following poem was submitted to the National Library of Poetry where it was published in an anthology entitled "In a Different Light".

Red Sea 

A red sea, a red rose

A painted sky

I have to keep asking myself

Why

A blue bird, a blue glass

Tear drops fall on a little girls pillow

Standing in a barren field with one lone willow

Colors of a rainbow, together they run

On an empty street a man stands with a gun

He is a lost soul in a crowded city

People can only say "what a pity"

A little girl cries for help, blood runs from her wrists

She is another number on a long, long list

Kiss a forgotten person, open your eyes

We don't need anymore lies

Within ourselves there is a war

Break free and let your spirit soar.

Image By Paolo Neo [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

After Sunset

The night falls

heavy in its hours.

Afraid of the dark

Corners,

of your mind.

Fear what you may find

alone,

in the space between you-

and vast nothing.

Openly suffocating,

in periwinkle dusk

rapt in a blanket of night.

You fall asleep-

You fell in love-

I fell for it-

Burglars in the eerie in-between

steal abandoned hearts

and crawl with malice.

Lovers steal

glances and tears

that fall

guilty like night.

In hazy dark cities,

lights blur through salty tears.

Among busy streets

wander empty years

sound of safe, shhh-

alee-whispering wind,

silence is golden.

For in memories and sunsets,

cast behind you,

lingering in the shadows,

of loneliness-

loudest

at the fall of night.

Image credit: By Jon Sullivan [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Windswept

The trade winds blow, shaking their souls

quaking through the canopies; necks and trunks

whip and lash…

Rising up-racking, building tension

escalating in cleansing saltwater sky

that weeps and purifies, absorbed.

Shared with the earth.

An everyday occurrence-that appears from nowhere.

It seems normally rare, the current passes quickly still

                                                there lingering with explosive force, held tight in calm evening air.

Moving like a phantom; an evaporating apparition,

the mirage-leaving no trace, yet even still-

made anew.

Holding on its back the steamy hot mist

carried on the verge, a balanced cups of tears.

Shifting of power, tilting the scales.

A release of struggle- temporal in state

the come and go electric emotion charge

the trade winds will always blow...

Composed 5/14/14.
Image credit:By Rosendahl [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

A Case Of Silk Pajamas

It came in a package too pristine to open
A box of quiet dynamite,
Muffled with tissue paper
Under a whispered film of disguise
Only restrained by a single golden seal
To be unleashed only by the daring new possessor
Chosen by default, a lack of any better idea,
Smart luck maybe
Or perhaps they chose you, for your lack of opposition to suggestion
Evocative and immaculate
With trembling fingers afraid to touch
These cannot be for me?
These are not mine!
Who do you think I am?
Sheer perplexing gift, not the image I see as me
Shouldn’t you know-
I had been in flannels too long!
Oh, what trouble this gift would cause?
Liberating sensuality should be “handled with care”
Liquid luxury woven in threads,
Fully exposed-naked and draped in material,
Fluid and solid Immaterial feeling
Eyes without sight provided by the darkness of night
The deafening joy of touch screams
In the romance of night, between the sheets
Hugging, whispering, caressing lonely places on my skin
The sense of touch
Weaving webs in my soul
 Pores breathing and gasping for air,
 The air of luxury, the air up here is sweeter
A box of silky chocolates gets devoured
An unquenchable craving develops with just one taste
This gift needs no returning, these silk pajamas are so me!
A warning should be given to the giver
Who never knew
How wearing silk pajamas will utterly change you
Out of the cocoon
and into your arms.

Image credit:By 文同 English: Wen Tong (1018–1079) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons (ink on silk)