Desert Spirit Rev 2
With the moon rise
on a winter's night,
a chilled wind flows
through my hair.
In the desert cold,
near the Joshua Tree,
the sands still warm,
from the sunny rays,
when scorpions danced
during a lazy hazy day.
As nightmares recall
the age of the Phoenix
reflecting mirrors glare,
of a pious deity shared
near the Joshua Tree,
when sands were warm,
from the sunny rays,
in that desert of old,
haunted fables relayed
by a Spirit of yesterday.
Twilight's Drift
Reason for waking
lofty faded dream
soft steps in grass
eyes rising skyward
Brisk breeze blows
wind swirls on water
geese march in air
reality softly fades
Flame tip to candle
upon twilight's drift
gentle moon's whisper
whisked off the table
Tired head anointed
by fluffy down pillows
cotton candy waltz's
sun ablaze in yellows
welcome the darkness.
First Kiss of Spring
Sing me a sonnet of
Spring's First Sweet Kiss.
Let me gaze into the marvel of
splendid colors that do surround.
The warming Sun brushing my cheek;
of winter's cold chill I remember still.
Inhaled blessing of Mother Nature's gifts
and pleasing sounds of spring now abound.
The morning birds singing loud and proud,
a murder of crows raving in the mists.
The little buds of wild flowers cover
the earth and buzzing of the bees all round.
Sing me a last gentle winter serenade;
of things my memory shall reminisce.
The bedroom curtains move so gently,
whispering lines of a Summertime wish.
Yes, sing me the sonnet of the First
Sweet Kiss of Spring.
A Ghostly Cold
"Hark!" they cry,
"come here and soon".
Under a darkening sky
and palest moon.
We spy a ship,
adrift in the bay;
her sails wrapped tight,
empty helm I'd say.
She slows to a stop
and the anchor falls.
The Tower sounds an alarm,
come one come all.
The Colonel hollers out,
"Make yourself known!",
but all we hear are creaks,
moans, and groans.
Longboats, soldiers,
muskets, and such.
A comical sight to see;
and found a bit too much.
It's quiet and empty
on her dampened deck.
So clean and pristine,
she's hardly a wreck.
We row back to shore
and toss out the hook,
Unsettled and wet,
we turn round and look.
She's gone! all scream;
that legend of old.
T'was the Dutchman, I'm
sure, a true Ghostly Cold.
Time Not Sleeping Rev 4
Time not sleeping
but forever creeping;
in shadowed dreams
lies a crispy twisting;
Breathing to live while
the blood is steeping,
the Sun exhales its last,
alighting a Lunar mist.
As the heart beats a clock,
the tick and the talk,
love burns with a heat,
but cools with the cheat.
Never wishing to lose
over darkened black hues,
O'er a misty nights weeping
shadows of violet and blue.
Into the teary haze,
affixing my wanton gaze,
on a moon so bright
in this cool twilight.
Love kind and true,
gone now and ablaze,
as time's not sleeping,
just creeping out of sight.
How starved your ego
must have been,
to devour my heart
with a treacherous grin.
For time's not sleeping,
but forever creeping,
Reaching out, forlorn of love,
my conscious mind spins.
