The gardeners dream

I keep myself busy
weeding out the ways
seeking for the heartship
of my soul,
I till the soil
and mend the rows
plucking out all the jade,
but the harmony is not found
in these glorious sunny days.

So again I am on bended knee
mulling through the dirt
removing unwanted growth
tenderly nurturing
caring and trimming
showering with adoration,
hoping soon
very soon.

Then the spring brings her fluid smile
blanketing all the buds
and each in turn will blossom
filling my garden with many hugs,
and there I sit among the colors
awaiting for one to tug
the one that will wax my heart
that one who will give me love.

A whole for love

I can honestly speak
from these crippled hands
that reach into the labyrinth
into the darkness of soul,
every seeking along the way
the caressing of walls
tender toes on stepping
and ears that hear weeping.

Tell me soul
where have I traversed
that I never find
someplace here nor there
transcending the heights
elusive to there fullness
and me among the maze,
speaking to love
an ever morphing face
that sheds the many tears
for me to feel
alone
in some strange place.

Altruism (limited quantities)

The rhythm carries on
with successions into silence
stepping toes a hopping
nails on the bite
facing into knuckles
white teeth shift in movement
on a story for every tongue
till the legs can hold no more
and the weight becomes a tarry
is music fit here to lift the soul
are songs all brought to trodden
where the love is lost in haste
too many hearts on the cuff
not enough anything alone
leaving humanity
to prowl.

Laden caverns of heavy breathing

Drops are falling
like wind in heavy storms
they scatter in all directions
seeking out their pattern
looking for their place,
sometimes though
the sky is dark
and nowhere leads to landing,
footing moves on iffy paths
and eyes seek out withstanding.

The hopeless are still in standing
with holes agape their chest
and weeping goes on for miles
fluttering sounds of never rest,
knuckles reach over the broken
knowing little of what they seek
and yet the hearts are flooded
overflowing
resting in pools of reflection;
so plainly I beseech thee
lay me down in peaceful sorrows
and spare me the introspection.

Reluctance to cohere

There’s a creaking chair outside

my window on the pane,

where moods are flowing over side

and out along the trailed,

somewhere beneath the floorboards

between the sleep and waking.

 

Where a tree just wandered off

to sea the rivers angle,

effortless without the breeze

standing empty shores,

where clouds all baffle together

and quiet is a far off scream.

 

Its hear that I can understand

why the color is hue,

and where the stars all lead

when they fall out of love,

alone among the fullness

of a world seeking…