If someone said she was beautiful,
They then knew what they were talking about.
Rose-colored cheeks
A prudent little pout.
Compliment her yourself; a phrase or two,
For your lovely little daughter
All dressed up in blue.
chalice and all he brings
Silent song
The owl sings
For night and chalice
And all he brings
Wings of birds
Go tearing down
Weighed down by night
Into the ground
I have found
There little birds
Scattered about on
The frozen land
The owl calls
Its prey and night
To help him win
This very fight.
–
awaiting a daughter’s return
–
Weddings can come and go,
A winter flurry; a fall fling.
Expensive gifts and all who know,
–
The cake does not buy the happiness.
The wedding is a useless affair,
Tears and flowers
In the air.
–
Poor fathers awaiting their daughters’ returns,
The mothers hoping they sent off right,
Throwing rice at a carriage
Running into the night.
–
singing in the night
Singing in the night,
Devil’s awakened; children’s fright,
Sending animals into flight.
Screaming children now bathed in light,
So sorry for singing in the night.
the way of knowing
The rain is a gift,
I am the recipient.
Nature has a way of knowing,
When your going,
Away to come back another day,
Going someplace far away,
Just for a little while,
Still thankful for the style,
Of the rain.
“No pain, no gain.”
starting an adventure
Starting a new adventure,
Looking at the sky,
Years go traveling by.
I can’t deny; that I’ve had fun,
The year barely begun,
But yet our time is done,
Now all we have are memories left
Of fun.
these choice words of mine
When I think of you,
Some choice words come to mind.
They aren’t pretty,
They aren’t kind.
But they are the only words you have
That have happened to be mine.
every time i look
I told you what I saw that day,
You told me just to look away.
Now every time I look that way,
I think of what I saw that day.
I saw the sun rise at the night,
I saw the moon shining in the daytime light.
It was magic; it was pure, it wasn’t even that obscure.
Now you say I should have looked away,
But I will always remember that day.
The day the moon took the suns’ place,
And at dawn lit up my face.
hurt me inside
I posted a picture,
You told me I was stunning.
I ran away,
And kept on running.
Didn’t know what to write,
To type in response,
I tried to act with nonchalance.
My stomach twisted; it hurt me inside,
Didn’t know,
How to cross the divide.
torn to abstraction
This goddess wears a dress, so full of plumage it reeks.
She wears a dress so torn it’s beautifully abstract, her people told her.
Her hair too long to be brushed,
It runs down the road because it feels rushed.
Her eyes the color of pond algae,
Her people tell her their diminished emeralds.
Is it her sight or theirs that is wrong?
Could they both be right in spite?
Speaking by Paper 