*
silent are my dead
ancestors
silent are the graves
.
as the photos
mingles in brown tones
or gray hues
.
we gathered little
information
despite searching
,
but a powerful
emotional feeling
raising inward
.
.
.
*
silent are my dead
ancestors
silent are the graves
.
as the photos
mingles in brown tones
or gray hues
.
we gathered little
information
despite searching
,
but a powerful
emotional feeling
raising inward
.
.
.
*
cultivate love
not for one person
alone distinguish
like from love
choose to love
you will grow the
perfect climate
to rise in beauty
in good company
.
.
*
as the day cast its light
in different corners
of my house
I roam
my garden
seeking for different
silent spots where to bloom
.
.
*
we all walk
bundled up on
winter days
but the dogs
jump for joy
the old man
will not sit by
his fire he takes
himself out
slowly stretching
his steps next
to the lines
of poplars
he will walk to
the end not
a thought
of surrender
.
© 2013
.
don’t many of us
in this life get the chance
to be human
.
even if for a brief
moment of vulnerability
.
tenderness entwined in
with love and forgiveness
embracing mistakes
.
ours or others
understanding
there are no podiums
.
but one race
just one step
following
the other
.
one person
looking after another
keeping our necks oiled
to turn around
any given time
.
.
.
*
I place my steps
orderly
in front of me
.
the gravel sounds
sending approval
.
seeking a way to put
myself
in focus as I move
.
.
*
sharp the tree
branches
against the winter
sky black
a naked dance in
the brisk air
.
.
*
if I could keep my bones
warm and dry my heart
delicately swelling inside
as my eyes roam the air
grabbing not sure how
the poetic words that
make my life worth
living resounding
as a gentle
chime
.
.
*
out of the dark gray morning
the turtle dove calls
same song she plays
on all seasons to call me
out of sleep into the awakened
daily life the tiresome day life
that holds a song or two
such as hers
to keep me standing
.
.
*
this is
my new church
the desert plane
.
where the spirit lives
I shall come and
preach to all
.
the desert gold
bushes sitting quietly
preach the deepest
.
silence on which
they already thrive
.
.
This poem is part of the poetry collection California Notebooks 02. If you wish to order a copy please click here.
*
they the shards of ice
laying on water
don’t move nor dance
they lay still there
as the ducks try a piroette
other then gliding
.
.
*
January mornings
wake up slowly
.
in spite of long stretches
yawns and chilly air
.
everything deep in sleep
so is everyone
.
like a colorless dream
dipped in silence
.
.
*
sun rays
powerless
reflect away
from the frozen
skin of the small pond
.
there no duck is
allowed to swim in days
like these slivers of ice
compacted together
a strange collage
.
reminiscent of abstract art
fish swimming below unseen
.
.
*
it is so
that every morning
I go about pressing the foot
on the same path that’s how
.
habits are formed good ones
.
I have learned in between
.
steps to make treasure of
observation new revelations
as they come blossom
.
in presence
.
This is the first poem posted in 2021 with my wish to you that you will blossom in presence in all of your beauty.
~ Also, tomorrow is my birthday and I wish to myself the good habit to be present and grateful every day that is given to me.
This poem is part of the poetry collection California Notebooks that can be bought on Amazon with a special discount.
Enjoy reading poetry, enjoy basking in its beauty, there is still much we can be grateful for…
*
it’s an afterward
moving
this of giving poetry
a way
to talk about the beauty
lingering
unseen
sensitivity shining
bright
in our darker days
when we
think there’s little
to be seen
.
.
Poem from the second volume of the book California Notebooks 02. If you wish to gift yourself, or someone else, a discounted copy click here. I would love to find a review from you. Best Wishes!
.