Bliss 14

phishgodphishgod Posts: 133
edited January 2004 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
Bliss 14

Sketches her
song in
the clear
mural water,
oak and
pine, cloud
and mist,
as sunburst
from her
golden hair,
shadow of
turtles, the
pond as
light filter
clears the
picture sharper
(little ripples)
than the
real, and
to the
Sugar Bush,
stand of
maple-beech,
sunleaf
translucent,
red pinecone
flowers or
storm art,
the trees
laid helter-
skelter ‘cross
the swale.

Black squirrel.
Bird feathers.
Maiden nymph
tree hugs,
and wizard
poofs the
rainbow, so
she sees
through steam.

The circle
and the
rite, sacred
full moon,
orange off
pine boughs.

Leaves red
ring their
own rainbow
wrapped high
in sunset
sky, valley
mist meadows,
geese, gander
overhead our
walk, the
spell cast
by water
droplets blown
in tree
breeze of
clean air
as sun
dances down
to our
most perfect
first Autumn.

This bliss
we feel
(as if
Thanksgiving),
sketches her
song in
the clear
mural water—
so clear
reflecting love,
our hearts.

--September 23, 2002
Haslett, MI
@pth
rockon,
phishgod
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • phishgodphishgod Posts: 133
    Okay, I see I got Orange in here again,
    and dyao will remember we took her walking
    at this place on her recent second autumn visit.

    We both feel enlightened being there,
    and a bright yellow sheen reflects on
    the fall meadow grasses as the leaves
    explode in all colors, elves, wizards, fairies
    delight, and they even had a casket and
    stuff buried in the woods for all the ghouls
    on Halloween.

    Yeah. Sort of grunged out, a little like Second Street, Seattle back
    in the day!

    But now & forever, we turn to Beauty.
    Hey--it's a vedder way!/rofl
    rockon,
    phishgod
  • SoundSound Posts: 579
    i took a mirror once and borrowed the sun light to make myself just as GREAT.
    It was a dream, not a nightmare. A beautiful dream I could never imagined in a thousand nods. I saw this girl next to me, she wasn't beautiful until she smiled. And I felt that smile come at me in heat waves following. Soaking through my body and out my finger tips in shafts of color. And I knew somewhere in the world, somewhere, that there was love for me.

    Jim Carrol
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