Indigo-Moon-Shadow

Tender hands cover a sleepy yawn, Roused from dreams by the rosy dawn – The sky blushing as the rising sun Kisses his crescent companion. Feathered flocks surf the cobalt sky, Dodging waves of clouds as they fly – With the gleaming sun on their backs, They sing in whistles and high clacks. Rolling like heavy ink blots, The dark clouds cry, distraught; Rain showers the land, at last unbound Like miniscule drums bouncing around. Light streaks through the hazy web, The sky pale and sad as clouds ebb – Life stirs as the sun resumes its post, And birds return to their gracious host. As evening falls, mauve fades to indigo; T

Soulless, frigid within A temperamental body, You are snow in summer, Sparkling against a black void, Melting            Melting Like shadows at dawn, We brigade over your ice And you crumble to pieces, Collapsing onto bruised knees, Bleeding             Bleeding Launched into a black void, Our lungs explode like missiles With the harmony of joyful agony As your broken voices scream and beg, Crying          Crying But no one ever listens to you Because we are the soulless snow And you are all the entombed flowers, Dying         Dying

Blue Moon, Long awaited, How we dream to see you And bathe in rays of days faded - But we must wait for you to greet our eyes Because, for our dreams to come true, We watch as one moon dies So you may rise, Blue Moon So we wait as days fade into twilight, Hoping the moon we call fated Brings light to this drear night In an elated Blue Moon Glow. Oh, Blue Moon, Though belated, You nestle in the sky. Our curiosities sated, All of creation raises its arms high. Blue Moon, We see you rise As the last sunray dies, And our dreams finally come true - Your splendid face meets our unworthy eyes. With spirits no longer faded, We rise to welcome you,

The world freezes in the arms of Time, As if holding its breath, waiting for something – Anything – to happen before the morning bells chime, But there is nothing except a distant cricket-song and my own breathing I gaze into the sky, sprinkled with stars like fragmented glass, Stretching into a world undisturbed by mankind; And as my toes curl into damp grass, I contemplate the angelic world overhead, undefined. A star is born every time we dream – The sky never holds the same constellations twice For we evolve, causing the night to gleam With wonders and hopes of paradise

Your skin is soft as a rose petal, But no one will ever know ‘Cause you always run from happiness To avoid any sorrow – Yes, to avoid any sorrow, You remain prepared to sacrifice Any chance of happiness at all And live in your forlorn paradise.

I Count the Stars With You – Name constellations, too Let’s make a little wager: Who makes the best depiction? Look, I found Ursa Major – (Too quick for my conviction.) Your finger traces Gemini Just as mine points to brave Leo – You grin up at the speckled sky, Becoming my Galileo. A paintbrush cannot capture this night Of ancient mythos, honored fiction. I shall keep Draco and Hydra’s light   Within my memory’s collection. I squeeze Orion between my fingers As you tenderly cusp Lynx and Virgo; And still, your gorgeous smile lingers, My dearest muse, my lovely Clio! Wager this depiction of Ursa

A song croaks through the meadow – As I drop to my bruised knees, My heart rolls into shadow – My soul joins the breeze

Torn, darkly patterned wings flutter to death. Is bright sunlight too harsh for you? Scarred moths splayed out on scorching pavement, Leading from the sky you frequently flew To lead me further down into shadow, Envying those yellow butterflies roaming the blue – While we are vulnerably plastered to land, They live their dreams – and ours, too.

We inhale infatuation and exhale euphoria, Living for a moment of perfect passion With a plethora a feverish motion That always seems to deflate at sunrise. Yet for our recklessly beautiful adventure, We continue seeking the ideal location To conceive sin and avoid investigation, Which forever looms overhead at sunrise. Covered in blood, a rose stem is my pen As I write a love encrypted invitation To our routine twisted, starlit celebration That always seems to deflate at sunrise. We speak low but cling to every word Uttered throughout the rushed action – For you and I live in fear of any interruption Catching us at the guilty glo

If I had a thousand years to express my love, I would run out of time before the halfway point – Daisies sprout across my garden walls of Billowing crape myrtles grown to anoint Visiting silver-winged delicate butterflies With golden nectar as they pierce clear skies; You turn raindrops into spectacular lights, You are the sunrise that ends darkest nights That once haunted me with a wolfish wraith, Marching and slithering around inside my head, Never bothering to hide under my bed – Until you came and returned to me my faith; Thus I need more than a thousand years for you To understand how you have made me live anew

The fireflies arrive at dusk, Their membraned wings, and tiny husks They dance about the blood-stained sky And capture daydreams as they fly They gather in the moonlight’s musk And hum as if they mean to busk, Their joyful movements do deny That love or hope could ever die As fireflies arrive at dusk A symphony of twilight plucks At heartstrings hardened into tusk Small glowing bodies wave goodbye And claim the pain that drenched their eyes, Revealing light beneath the brusque The fireflies arrived at dusk

Sometimes this is how it dies Not with a bang or a surprise But with one staring into eyes For solace from the tearful cries Yet there are bonds and there are ties That transcend pain and soft goodbyes This is unlike all last goodbyes Where one feels slowly as it dies The severing of the cords and ties A slow progression, not surprise And wistful days collect in cries That gather in one’s bloodshot eyes Not even with the keenest eyes Can one placate these soft goodbyes For though the love remains, the cries Know now is when the life plan dies And even though it did surprise We must unmake these heartfelt ties One can’t regret t

a missing piece from a fractured ceramic jar leaves an empty space to fill with something beautiful

I get a wiggle in my nose and a twitch in my toes, and everything between begins to shake. I cross my eyes, my arms, and two fingers. Then I bob my head, first left and then right. Next I spin in a circle until I stop to skip, but my little dance makes flittering fairies fly. Yes, the flittering fairies flap about and fly, but if I try to join I get stuck on twitchy toes. So I’ll flap my arms as I begin to hop and skip. Now it doesn’t matter how I dance or shake. Every step I take and move I make is right. So I’ll stick out my tongue and stand on my fingers. The fairies can be seen when I stand on my fingers I can watch th