Thursday, April 19, 2012

Grass and Sorrow



The tree has fallen today
Leaving the golden, disturbed bees to flee
Only in these woods do I wander alone
Tasting yesterday’s spice on my tongue
My salty refusal towards all who care for me.
The red tailed hawk soars slightly south
For in its youth it cannot control
Its newly fledged wings
Beating as fast as a heart full of spice.
The grass unfolds to the light
Of this newly rising sun—
Its rays like the majestic lion’s mane.
I unfold with the long, dancing blades
And become green—a tinge of hope.
But hope only peers in through the folds of night
When there is sorrow in me that is flowing.
Not when there is harsh, staccato sorrow
But only when it flows in
Like a river.
I cannot repel my society, for I am part of it
But if I could only turn—
Unfold like the blades of grass—
From grey to gold I would turn, I would rain tears
Of joy.   

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Blossoms of Stars

Grace stares at the wind
Gathering the stars into her palms
Watching thoughtfully 
With her intelligent silver eyes.
The nights turn from blue to black
I stare as well
Watching Grace stride
In her flowing white attire.
Her pale skin shimmering
In the light of the floating silken moon
Her soft golden hair almost glowing.
I lay there to admire the sight
Such a sight it is--
Like the rising sun
In a universe of galaxies
And a galaxy of stars.
Grace, my perfect shadow of well-being
Does not see me
And only stares blankly ahead
Like sparrow
Already taken away from its life.
Those intelligent silver eyes
Do not even notice me.
My eyes turn from brown to black
And are shrouded with stars 
Creating a universe.
My arms turn from the arms of a musician
To wings that soar.
I fly above Grace in my mind
My shallow little mind
Only growing more shallow
But I fly above her
To see the world and learn what there is.
My eyes are not the color of silver
My life is plain as a grassy field
But each feather on the wings of my mind
Adds to become the wing itself
My wing grows to become the wind
And the wind grows to become the stars.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Superior Wings

Feathers like stars in the wind

Flapping silent and clear

In a state of pure solitude

Do you wander alone.

Your freedom

To watch everything from above

Black eyes that scrutinize the land

No need to bother

Giving land lubbers a helping hand

For they do not bother

To give a hand to you.

They do not notice you hover

In that still, suspended manner you do

But you can see them all

Shuffling along doing their own things;

Their more "important" things.

Who would want to be your friend?

You are just an object to them

Not intelligent

Not important

They could not care less.

But no matter how superior they become

You still hover above them

More superior than they all are

Even if you are silent

Flying without a word or opinion.