Silent Appeal

I cannot say

there is knowing in me --

I catch a breeze,

behold a tree;

the sun and clouds color

my mind and the sky,

the tint of haze bringing

electric squiggles to my eye;

and yet sometimes I think

I can feel a heart cry --

I want to rush over

and wipe the tears dry. 

When I can't, that hurts

more than anything --

to desert a poor heart

with a broken wing.

Serenity

Rain through the roof

and a chipmunk in the sink;

a sock dropped into the commode . . . 

'Tis best to smile and wink.

Innocent Eyes

O seagull over the mountaintop! 

Hello, sweet bird, please do not stop

your plaintive cry o'er sculpted terrain

of rocky peak and grassy plain;

tell them what you saw and heard

tell them, though you can't utter a word

tell them with your timbre and tone

just what you saw from your perch, all alone.

Lift

Hand in the invisible storm

reaches out to give a lift: 

No "May I help you?" needed --

the gesture speaks the gift.

Knight's Day

Beyond front of armaments, castle, and moat
stood a knight in abject terror
lest, stepping outside, he be seized by the winds
and blown about like a feather. 
From casement above, one finger he poised
to gauge wind's true direction;
crown of hair followed suit, then eyes, then nose --
worried visage forsaking protection. 
Bold move was this, and the feisty air danced
with delight at his braving the breeze;
alarmed at the din, knight pulled back within,
though his sole wound sustained was a sneeze. 
With hankie for shield, he leaned forth once more
and exposed his face to the air,
stark terrified lest he sneeze again
and surrender control then and there. 
But the sun's rays beckoned as clouds' chubby grins
graced sky's royal blue robust;
entranced by the sight was the hapless knight,
now resolved:  "Step outside I must!" 
The castle quaked as drawbridge lowered
over limpid moat: 
Knight walked forward, head raised high,
his spirit near afloat. 
And Terra Firma, docile to
knight's heels commanding clay,
yielded sweet submission to
her Knight reclaiming day.

Sketch

Always tried to make myself "olive"
or fair
and tame my "fat" chestnut, red-streaked
hair --
to belong. 
No blue-green of eye
(no "love me or I'll die!")
but "love me or I'll kill you" woodsy brown,
black eyebrows thick
for that "gravitas" frown --
all wrong. 
Lefty, not righty,
broke the mold of family tree
not twice, but thrice -- no middle name in sight --
whatever happened to me? 
I know not the answers --
know even less as I forge my way . . . . . 
I'm just that peculiar "whoever I am,"
hair growing blacker (with silver!) each day.

Unedited

I edit, these days,

until nearly all gone

are spontaneous thoughts

and words' pulse, once strong. 

I edit, these days,

until I can't recognize

any genuine feelings

behind their disguise. 

I edit, these days,

until I'm one long stutter

of half-baked thoughts

barely worth the mutter. 

I edit, these days,

because I learnt well how to hide

the blunt force of my thoughts

and my hardheaded side. 

I edit, these days --

and this is a terrible poem (!),

but I'll leave it this way

to lead my true self home.

Mist

It smells like the sea

o'er the mountains today

the air misty gauze

mother-of-pearl tinted grey

with silvery blue mixed into the hue

downy breeze on my face
whispering "I love you."

To Hope

OK, everybody -- you can laugh, but phrases stick with me and I've just read this one:  "Who Knows?"

Now this melody is going through my head and I really can't help myself -- I just love this song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xu7sRdRrm_w

Happy day.      :)

Nightfall

Through closing malls

and vacant halls

the storyline ascends

and falls

while dream deposits

dreamer in

familiar lots

bereft of kin

trying hard

to locate home

and finding herself

all alone.

Lucent

Miracle

when the spirit of a man

flows through arm

onto canvas, 

igniting life 

in eyes sketched

with fire
from his own

soul.

Fire and Brimstone

Fire and brimstone -- let them rage
and bleed and spill upon the page
till fire's spent and brimstone's cold;
anguish lonely, wound of old. 
Come rest poor head upon kind knee --
warm hand to hold,
sweet comfort for thee.

Embraced

"So patently ruthless and loveless,"

noted he,

"and yet for that frailty

do I love thee."