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Few and Far Between - I

June 24th 2008 09:13

Oh my life, See,

The unborn Sun’s kiss with the clouds,
The silently chirping noisy birds,
The grass beneath, adored by dewy beads,
The calmly prancing handsome steeds.

Oh my breath, See,

The newborn Sun cradled in the sky,
Its crimson hue spreading well nigh,
The bloom of flowers, enchantingly shy,
Their petals visited by the winged spy.

Oh my thought, See,

The sea lit up with an aura, looking serene,
The fisher, one second dive, the other preen,
The mighty waves under the foamy white caps’ reign,

As they wear their billowy blue over the grimy green.

Oh my heart, See,

The becoming fear in the eyes,
Of the young prancer, roan,
As it most bewitchedly eyes,
The ball in the sky that shone.

Oh my angel, See,

The Sun’s lesser cousin’s dwindling far away,
The pale smuggler still visible in the newborn day,
The light spreading towards the clouds to disband their grey,
The grasses and trees, for the wafting breeze, in sweet sway.

Oh my love, See,

My hair tousled, as is my mind,
Which waits no longer to leave behind,
This subtly beautiful scene and to find,
You as the cloud and I as the Sun, in the dawn of happiness, blind.

Inamorata,

These are but seen,
In times, few and far between,
Come, let us feign,
That what was has never been,
And live out our lives, in these times, few and far between.
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Thumbs up

May 6th 2008 09:41

Is it the gusting winds
ruffling hair and parting around my steed,
with sussurous promises
reminding past melodies
and smelling of salt, greens and craven need?

Is it the winding roads
stretching sinuously and lying in wait,
for my steed to grace
at steady not sedate pace
and at each bend laying more coils as bait?

What is it that makes me a fool
while making me feel
that all is well and in control
that the steed is body and my feet the wheel?

Whatever it is - whether the measured beat
matched with that of my heart,

whether the burnished steel or stepped seat
whether the rugged engine or chromed part
it cannot be denied as a work of art.

And from without, I am told,
that the rider on the steed
is a fist cocked with thumb atop
tightly knit yet completely freed
a symbol of victory and journey non-stop.
Thumbs up!

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Have you lived?

March 13th 2008 15:45

As old as I am
when I think of doing
'stead of doing

As wise as I am
when questions exist
but answers dont
and questions are
what wake me up
to keep walking down

As weary as I am
when it is too far
to look behind
and too late
to look ahead

As alone as I am
when I am company
and you are not
when the past remains
and the present passes

As near as I am
to the end of one path
as to the start of another,

I have not existed. I have lived.
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One way Speak

February 21st 2008 14:49

His voice reaches down
to the multitudes

[ Click here to read more ]
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I am ready if you are...

February 14th 2008 12:59
This morning I am ready if you are,

To banish the coldness


[ Click here to read more ]
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Imaginary Forest

February 13th 2008 17:28

"Imagine a forest"
says Papa.

[ Click here to read more ]
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Painting words

February 12th 2008 09:40

Wait,
so that i may capture

[ Click here to read more ]
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Spoken for

February 6th 2008 12:55

We are sharp
or silken smooth

[ Click here to read more ]
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I have no other blogs :(
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