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Its beauty in whiteness
a scripture from cold
leaves its heartbeat of oneness
within the season of snows.
Its purity of being
from the splendor of nature
lies with the marriage of droplets
into their purity of time.
2 A captured Dream
She dreams of Paris and the Champs-Elysees,
strolling among wishes that sometimes come true.
I stroke her hair, and sweetly smile,
while knowing the truth of our parting way.
For love and lovers must part their way,
when stronger is the will of a dream.
For what good is a dream if never pursed?
And what’s the purpose of love-if it cages the dream?
3 Western Sky
Their eyes did sorrow into each
fading embers in their love
sipping twilight in their dusk
just before its finale light.
Lovers weep in the eastern dawn
empty hearts in languish sighs
their truth of love a bursting flash
that disappeared into a western sky.
4 The Butterfly
A gentle moment-
its waiting,
listening,
like a lover,
listening,
for the quiet whisper of her heart.
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On the faith of Euphrosyne
our souls to spirit glide
where the love of infancy
attends the promised vow.
Flowing into breathing
no murmuring more of hearts
a soliloquy to an epitaph
Euphonies verse to joy.
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Soft in a breeze
nourished by warmth
their beauty as one
among the buttercups bloom.
A moment of pleasure
poetry in grace
butterflies love
with creation’s touch.
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Silent scripts
from long ago
wrapped in memories
wrapped in a shawl.
Kind were the years
no burden of fuss
as problems were cradled
in love and respect.
No bitterness to bear
In the alone-ness now hers
there’s only her missing
when he’s with the night air.
8 No Ashes Bore
On an old time dream seeps the then
cared in memories of a lover’s kiss
no trouble set to lessen joy
touched by a pureness born of flesh.
Their love was formed before the breath
gathered from the first of time
a truth of meaning in the living hand
the heart of each in the breasted soul.
Sweet their lives no ashes bore
an epitaph into a shadowed dusk
as only there was a tender caress
born from a star into their fellowship of love.
9 Beauty and Grace
Did beauty come first, from the caress of a light,
or first was there grace, giving birth to all beauty?
Or did beauty and grace fondle each other,
lifting the veil from the richness of each?
An infinite unfolding waking the flesh
from the gentle repose of creation’s gift.
A purity of vision in the nurturing of life
where beauty and grace evenly flows.
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Interesting poetic thoughts, some of them bitter-sweet, some just sweet!