Wednesday, November 28, 2012

The Word Bell That Rings

Pacifica St. Beach,
Pacifica, California,
Morning surfers,
Rolling waves:
white foams,
blades of green,
push, one after another,
profoundly sound,
people walk dogs,
doing fetch and catch games,
warm sunshine,
Believe it or not,
Ride the ducks,
lots of cars,
brave swimmers,
smooth rocks,
seashells,
seaweeds,
many footprints,
advanced camera,
swallow so many images,
including rocks
piled like
a tower,
and oldman
walking
as if
the sky
is
falling...


Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Hope By Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul,
and sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all.
.
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm.
.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in the extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Ame-Ri-Ca

give me a book
to read,
a notebook for my
diary, a pen to write
my thoughts out-
my inner swirls
are purple with the old time treasures
becoming today's raining wail.
.
I want only to gently touch
the dividers that measure the distance in between
to focus on factors that
stand out bettering me and you,
not fearing to identify
the false claims misleading you.
.
So when things become pushy
and you're encouraged to sin again,
I shall block my anguish flow
with built-in resistance.
and I pass the distubtance
of the eyelessness
or ignorance
of your low class existence.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

October Song By Thomas Lanier Williams

"There is enchantment here!" I mused, Beguiled-
Seemed Time herself, her erstwhile errant ways
Forgot, loitered with us and fondly smiled!
Caught in a net of gold and azure days!
But I lacked wit to see how lightly shoon
were time and you, to vagrancy so used
that by the glance of one October Moon.
From Summer's tranquil spell you might be loosed.
.
Think you love is write on my soul with chalk,
To be washed off by a few parting tears?
Then you know not with what slow step I walk,
The barren way of these hibernate years,
My life a vanished interlede, a shell,
whose walls are your first kiss
and last farewell!

Saturday, November 3, 2012

You and Spring




Google.com




holding hands,
in spring you come-
there is sweetness.
There is rebirth,
there is flame,
and there is witty game,
The beauty of you
and her (spring)
individually blend,
hand in hand,
with spring,
you went.