Eyes

In the eyes
Of one I most admire
Burns blue flame,
Determined fire,
Flaring without shame
It keeps smouldering beneath.
Her mouth so small, yet
Filled with Tiger Teeth.

Retreat

via Daily Prompt: Retreat

Orange and Black
(Who skip over Brown on their way)
Retreat from the onslaught of Red and Green,
Retreat before the barrage of Gold and Silver,
Retreat before the bombardment of Pink, Red and White,
Retreat before the cannonade of pale lavenders and baby blues,
Retreat before the vibrant volley of Green and Yellow.

Only to surge forward again when the tides of consumer war have turned again in their favor.

The Treadmill above the Italian Beef

The treadmill above Al’s Italian Beef
Drums constantly with rhythm of running Reeboks.

Sweat drips from cherry visages
As fat drips from philly cheese steaks.

An Aqua Angel framed above
The picture of a perfect pastrami.

A cycle of potential energy consumed
And kinetic energy released.

But no soles that tread the treadmill
Also tread the entrance to Al’s.

Those soles aren’t looking for soul-food.

The Dream

The dream again,
a half empty bottle in my bag,
the smoking gun.

Narrowed accusing stares,
disappointed glances,
Interrogations begun.

How could I let this
happen again,
having too much fun.

Have I learned nothing,
Felt the pain for nothing,
Lost all for none?

And then….
I wake.
the Dawn has won.

Dream Tree

Don’t worry
about the frozen rain
stinging overhead;
I’m sleeping in the roots
of the Dream Tree tonight.

Where button fruit hangs low
On proud branches
waving Autumn colored leaves
amid Golden fire flies and
twisting Rainbows from root to canopy.

Crimson squirrel outlined
in Indigo moonbeam
and Pensive old dog,
Listen to the dusk songs
of Swinging frog.

White stars on purple
in days last light
before the warm glow
in the darkness of true night,
veins of silver replace
the afternoon’s rainbow.

Don’t worry
about the cold
and howling wind
I’m sleeping in the roots
of the Dream Tree tonight.

To the Quieter, Softer Saints

Those we most Admire,
It seems in this society,
Have eyes that burn with righteous fire,
And condemn those who’d live more quietly.

Where are all the gentle eyes?
That shine with understanding,
Pardon rather than chastise,
Giving, not demanding.

Those without game or ploy,
The uncanonized softer Saints,
Who preach only love and joy,
Tolerance,  and restraint.

Have they forsaken us,
After so much useless discontent?
Did seeing Hatred rule us thus,
Cause them to lament?

Can we beg them to return?
And lead us into kinder days,
The loving humanity for which we yearn,
Where Truth and Good rule always?

Just Dreams

Wind.

Gentle breezes
Rock to sleep
The leaves from below,
Which they carefully sweep
Into a gentle embrace
Born in the flow
With whirling grace,
They dance to and froe.

Carry my thoughts
Along too in your streams;
‘Til they’re faraway dots,
And I’m left with just dreams.

Ice Queen

She’s Unstoppable.
Another cliché.
Her Bubble Unpoppable.
She goes her own way,
Her expression unflappable,
She moves through the frey.
Stoic, not laughable,
She owns the Impassive Café.
Poisoned words are impalpable,
An Ice Queen at play.