She is a midsummer nights dream.
a journey into the unseen.
her loveliness, a mystery.
Her aura,
a bouquet of orange blossom
drifting through peaceful meadows.
Her laughter paints the many colors of wildflowers,
splashing freedom on a once blank canvas.
Hips sway
with the grace of a petal caught in a light breeze.
Her eyes,
vintage wood-paned windows,
like a kaleidoscope view into
the center of her universe.
The intricacy of her entity perplexes me.
Her voice,
is as blue as jazz to a tired soul.
In every breath,
poetry flows pure as crystal waters from an arctic spring.
Memories,
once vibrant in design,
now stained with time,
like archaic photographs.
She is a symphony of artistry,
a collage of complexity.
Clothed in strength and dignity,
she can laugh at the years to come.
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Sunday, December 13, 2009
From Dust to Doves
What do you think when you lie there for hours,
sleepless,
and yesterdays milk sits,
and curdles and sours,
while windowsill cacti birth flower upon flower,
and monochrome visions surrender their power.
Thoughts, dreams, cold whispers
hastily snare,
swift contemplation
leaves the soul bare.
And they shred and they tear
the flesh
which, at best,
is null, void and dead.
Dust in the end.
But His strength engulfs sorrow,
holding steadfast to hope,
through faith, I am hollowed.
And He mends fractured wings,
forming doves out of sparrows,
as He paints new tomorrows.
His golden hands hold the scars,
of the stars.
And I am new once again.
sleepless,
and yesterdays milk sits,
and curdles and sours,
while windowsill cacti birth flower upon flower,
and monochrome visions surrender their power.
Thoughts, dreams, cold whispers
hastily snare,
swift contemplation
leaves the soul bare.
And they shred and they tear
the flesh
which, at best,
is null, void and dead.
Dust in the end.
But His strength engulfs sorrow,
holding steadfast to hope,
through faith, I am hollowed.
And He mends fractured wings,
forming doves out of sparrows,
as He paints new tomorrows.
His golden hands hold the scars,
of the stars.
And I am new once again.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Meet me there
Daddy I'm weak,
Lord, I want to seek
your face.
Why won't my hands reach,
fettered members are
leashed..
Tears refusing,
confusing,
wanting, but not choosing.
He breaks when we don't.
Help me friend,
save me Jesus,
because my heart won't.
Will you catch me
if I fall?
If on my knees I crawl
to the ends of forever,
say you will meet me there.
Lord, I want to seek
your face.
Why won't my hands reach,
fettered members are
leashed..
Tears refusing,
confusing,
wanting, but not choosing.
He breaks when we don't.
Help me friend,
save me Jesus,
because my heart won't.
Will you catch me
if I fall?
If on my knees I crawl
to the ends of forever,
say you will meet me there.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Daddy.
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