Monsoon

There’s a river of tears
flooding my path;
flowing over still feet,
buried, like the past
should be, but isn’t.

Blow a kiss
to fair weather,
to lukewarm water,
to grief of what was.

Pull yourself up
by the bootstraps
and stand. Let it flow
over you like a monsoon;
like a golden morning
glistening upon the yellow
of daffodils, shining
through sheer curtains
from the outside, in.

Quiet Place

When all of the glitter and fluff fell away,
they were left with a billowing shade of gray.
Nurture the spirit, be it humble and sublime,
so, layers, peeled away, reveal beauty inside.

He spoke this to me in poetry
for that is where my heart lies
wrapped in psalms, his music
and love dancing in his eyes.

He took my hand, my pen,
and on paper, swirled his word
in this solitary moment, when silence
allowed his voice to be heard.

Find your quiet place of peace
where whispers may fill your ears
the sound of a cardinal coming home,
and his voice flowering in your ear.

~

~
This poem was given to me. Upon awakening, I wrote this down but, have no idea where it came from…Well, actually I do know. If you read me, you know, I rarely rhyme…this came in rhyme.

Unchained

Listen to the clanging cymbals;
drums beating in rhythm
with a broken heart,
skipping,

now, numb to it all.

He played her
like a broken fiddle
rhapsody reappearing,
each time he was out of sync,

laying out his strings
for her to gently tune,
and set loose

to return to the one
who pulled them apart

until the next time,

but the show is over,
that old melody, unchained
the film, overexposed.

~

No Approval Needed

Painting the Sky

Within the halo of morning,
your reflection dances
blue, like oceans;
tickles the skin,

trickles wind through tresses,

feathered feelings
gone astray, then found

in an indigo sky full of stars,
shimmering,
pearlescent,

reminiscent
of your smile

~

Garland

You wrap ‘round me, like vines of love;
flurries falling in kisses upon my face.

Stars fade, but remain (in my eyes,)
until only the sun reminds me
that morning came, sprinkling it’s dew
on waiting petals and daffodil skirts;

your whisper, taming wind,
breaking shadows of clouds

leaving the atmosphere in a hush.

~