Feeds:
Posts
Comments

THE ART OF KIND

I’ve mastered the art of kind

I hug furiously 

every soul

person I find

and we share 

dear sweet 

harmony 

Our minds

hearts in sync

for all 

society 

to see

the testimony

of the rhythm 

of hearts

in harmony

PARADOXICAL SWING

Sour smiles
and somber parades
Tranquil jalapeños
and shining shades

The mockingbird erupts
composes a melody
a humble bumblebee
forfeits his nectar by a tree

The hailstorm is subdued
and their winds flee the scene
all the lone star deserts
spring and sprawl in green

Hell has frozen over
and it’s icicles gleam
it’s skating rink is now open
and the fat lady sings

CINNAMON LOVE

I love to glean the auburn spice

Staged in those eyes

Because two brown baked 

Cinnamon pods

Is hard to 

Come by

 

THE MATH OF MUSE

I can’t resist the urge
To splurge so mightily
On the mystic math of muse

Explore its use
Of  haughty equations
Speculate it’s diameter

It’s syllables would
Simply refuse

To take great pleasure
Quantifying it’s
Precious perimeter

Scaling the height
Plunging to the depths
Extending the entirety
Of it’s length

Solve wildy for it’s variables
determine it’s quotient
And Calculate it’s breadth

NEGOTIATIONS

Her thorn an anxious load
His hammock is peace

Her glimpse
A thirsty razor

That never
Sleeps

Shreds
All tranquility

His confidence
released

In pain

From the
Bone

Ruptured
On the
spot

An avulsion
Fracture

Is sustained

His cadence
Is slowed

A new gait
Is wrought

Distorted
Tripped

A direct hit
Is maintained

Underneath
His countenance

His breath
Ignites

A searing
fire

Her heart
Still in chains

Inflamed

With desire
In need

His glare
Her stare

Mutually
Agreed

To negotiate
A truce

His love
Her lips

Spruced

A lasting
recovery

“Losing your way on a journey is unfortunate. But, losing your reason for the journey is a fate more cruel.” – H.G. Wells

image

The path in life sometimes leads us
down an undesirable, unfamiliar road.
Weathering the storm, braving the elements that test the resilience of shallow skin. To lurk past the dark musty alley,
wading through shadow and grime.
Where both feet ache of journey, every joint grieves the next step.
Cadence sags; hope is fractured,  joy is doomed, fear and doubt has crept. Then the glorious vision of destination  empowers the weary heart, to know no tomorrow, to know no defeat, to know no turning back.  But to sprout forth eagles wings, ascend to the height, and add to us what we lack.

-Benjamin Thomas

COMFORT BLOOMS

image

There’s nothing like the comfort of Sun;
of being wrapped in her reigning ray,
to wither away at her glamorous gaze,
and in her golden essence be led astray.

Her hope always travels the distance;
to brighten gladly the darkest rooms,
the sirens of light arrive dancing,
as we become heirs of comfort bloom.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 212 other followers