Moonlit eve’s

Through starlit nights and moonlit eve’s,
With the waters asparkle and the silvery leaves,

As laurels fall from heaven’s grace,
And take at last their justly place,

Here shall I sit and lie and dream,
Of wonders wrought as wonders seem,

‘Til day ahead is cleared of strife,
And all seems wondrous in this life;

Sunbathed days

Yet seem to be and seem to may,
My world to love and love to stay,

In sunbathed days as time draws past,
With patterned silhouettes as they are cast,

MENTAL SCARS
.
.
They’ve called you every cruel name from cynic to a snob,
Their words and looks, like needles large and small,
Leave you with the feeling you've gotta be a slob
And your jokes just never raise no laughs at all…

When your smallest faults are magnified, distorted, advertised
And you cannot hope to do a thing that’s right,
When everyone’s against you, every action criticized,
And the only path left to you is to fight…

There illustrates music that depicts an openly active heart,
the notes are grey,
the tones are significant,
the words are bodied.

Yet the jazz musician could kill himself.

In every grey note he sees black.

In every significant tone is a burble.

If only moonless quandaries exempted darkest days?

Lift!

A smile could be liable.

because us

Who the fool….

Some lie there on the bed of fools
finding so little insecurity.
Not one will search for a meaning to life
none will be asking what is an obscurity?

No answers will come raging forth, so
they can make their own conclusion.
Running faster now downhill, are we
escaping the madness or is it a delusion.

I see old hands now, where
a piano players fingers used to be.
I’ll be deeming this totally unfair
reaching for an enigmatic key.

My inner most thoughts
I will never reveal, there
will always be that I'll
forever conceal, where
things are unexplainable
not tangible or real.

So no one will ever totally
understand, knowing every
face that passed my way
some stop I greet others
stand and stare but knowing
me not I'll never care.

A barren branch still reaches out
o'er withered seedling's callow chance;
still wick within, pulse beats throughout
a barren branch.

And there, despite life's fatal glance,
beyond spring rain or summer drought,
our majesty begins her dance.

Her pirouette glows beyond doubt
past naked limb of stretched expanse;
regeneration gleaned to sprout
a barren branch.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Roundel (poetry)

The sun chases away the darkness,
The rain cleanses the earth,
The moonlight lights a path,
A journey from death to birth.

New eyes,
Untarnished soul,
Making one see the picture
is now finally whole.

You know who you are,
You speak from the heart,
Ignore those that try
to tear you apart.

The vulchers are jealous,
You they cannot see,
All they see is gossip,
To spread forth they feel the need.

You hold your head down,
Unsure how you feel,
A week ago this didn't
seem real.

But it is, it's here,
A part of your life,
Not here to get you
into strife.

Maybe a chance,
New path, new beginning,
I know your head is
probably spinning.

A change of path,
Detour at most,
Allow and opportunity,
A form of growth.

Options are out there,
To help those like you,
Whatever you choose,
I am here for you.

you have me bewildered
as if a bird with a crippled wing
when i left
fall had become colors
turning cold against
the flush of cheeks

you missed your ride home
came back to say my name

why?

i liked your poems
when i couldn't see myself in them
or you and
what we had

i find myself
wanting more of them
the songs too
before this summer turns
to stone

i don't want to wonder
'if only'

you already do that