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May “thank you”
frequent the lips,
like kisses exchanged
between chronic lovers

Arm yourself
with thankfulness,
and engage others
with much appreciation

Ponder with skill,
discerning the need,
sow the seed,
then gather the fruit

Crystalline Fruits

Catch me
in crystalline
teardrops
falling

My inward
parts exposed
in glassy
saskatoon
fruits

As you see
them,
you’ll know the
roots–
of pain, exuded

the true self
leaked, protruded
out within lucent
waters

Keep love strong,

like an ox treading

out the grain

Let forgiveness

find it’s root,

and from bitterness do abstain

Bountifully sow

and bountifully reap

in fertile fields

Turn thorn and thistle

into bounteous yields,

with berry blossoms grins

And may the rich

fervor of compassions

burn you deep within

Be a blessing.

Take

two grains

of salt

for your journey.

 

The first,

is for dealing

with untruths.

 

And the second,

is to preserve

the real McCoy.

 

 

Life is not as it seems
even though our hopes
are far reaching

Life is balanced
on a narrow beam
we must learn to
walk it

Life is not a cotton
candy floating dream
but full to the brim
with substance

Life exists
to fulfill God’s dream
only then
will be true happiness

THE QUEENS BEAUTY

Her neck weighed in as pure gold
Yet still so soft, budding as vibrant marigold
Her ears were pliant dusty apricot
Her teeth were restive pale daffodils set in stone
Her lips were valued rubies,
Multifaceted and scented like flaming dahlias
Her nose, keen to crossing winds,
As an orange sky perks up when the day begins
Her smile was sweet cocoa brown;
That’s stretched for miles and miles diving underground,
Unto running canyons that yield summer squash vegetation
Her fingers were roasted hickory,
Like slender terra cotta warriors
Her breasts were astounding as atomic tangerine
Her legs were solid Honduran mahogany,
Stable in their length, breadth
The custom hinges of each ankle were aromatic red cedar
The work of a skilled craftsman
Her toes were solid white oak,
Strong but fashionable
Even her toenails were adorned,
In finely trimmed layers of walnut
Tinged with Audubon russet

HEART SPRINGS

What color is the soul?
An ill-contemplated hue…
And which pigment will you find?
It’s understanding, far and few.

So mind not the flavor of skin;
it’s superficiality bears no part,
in reflections of the soul
that spring, from chambers within the heart.

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