Bronze bells' breeze of September showers,
Freezing fluttering fragile flowers,
Tearing the time's tide tactile sense
May leave long love's lighting lance intense.
...
Her rags made her feel imprisoned
in an invisible cage.
...
I am in the shadow of that reality
that will become existent.
I feel the solar spring
...
Love is not
what we call an object.
Yet, it is still an object.
It has functions & variables.
...
I have heard the Robin Birds
chirping and singing- a pray
at the start of a new dawn- words
and dreams for your birthday.
...
Dressed in an African free gown,
She has never been on her own.
Drinks coffee because she's alone.
...
Beyond this frozen yonder,
a rain of love and sacrifice
unfroze the still, red rose.
...
Something within the mountain~
a sadness that seeps through the walls;
no human voice; mist to cover all;
cicada becoming only decorative art;
...
The lead ideas fell on thinking as those
voices coming from a bad dream. The yellow
of the daisies became sharper than the
serpents' teeth, and the fragrant sun
...
Live in goodness and
use only powerful words.
Explore their depth.
That magic is nestled within their structure,
...