Blog Archives

Imagination’s Loss

The all-seeing eye of the magical camera has

captured all the world’s great wonders,

making them small to the eye.

Radio and television have aided and abetted in this invasion.

A mind fed such a rich diet soon loses its imagination.

A rose picked from the vine quickly loses its beauty.

We are so busy with our electronic gadgets in every form,

that we no longer see our reality.

Are you willing to pause in your pursuits to see this truth?

Timeless

This poem is in Autumn Leaves:

 

Peace be with you,

My thoughts unwind,

But…I knew you elsewhere,

From a distant time.

 

Though it seems but yesterday,

Still it’s been a long, long while,

Something hauntingly familiar,

My thoughts beguile.

 

Memories sometimes lapse,

But time cannot disguise,

I believe it was your smile,

Not your laughing eyes.

 

No words spoken here,

Nor lofty man-made towers.

Simple use of thought exchange —

No clock to chime the hours.

 

Corridors of time are hazy.

Dust covers her ancient fold.

Recollections thwart and tease

In this timeless mold.

 

Pardon my intrusion

Into your hallowed space.

Forgive my poor conclusion,

But…I never forgot your face.

 

Timeless memories the past can blur,

Yet never to erase

Our footprints o’er paths we walked,

Another time…another place.

 

Thoughts we shared, flowers touched,

As we made our way.

Soft words exchanged, feelings passed,

Fragrance lingering where we lay.

 

Enraptured by you still,

Forever I’ll repose.

Would you linger her a while,

My spiritual, timeless rose?

 

DSC_9717

 

 

Life

These thoughts come from Autumn Leaves:

 

The marvel of life…

Like the unfolding petals of the rose,

Awakening to greet the first warm rays of the morning sun.

 

The marvel of life…

Like a microscopic speck mingled in the cosmic dust of the universe,

Dawdling and dancing to the muted dreams of eternity.

 

The marvel of life…

Toiling unceasingly with the aspirations of its gender,

Gathering the wisdom of the ages, dreaming the dreams of by-gone eras.

 

The marvel of life…

Growing hot, waxing brighter in the pursuit of achievement,

Yet, when suppressed and thwarted constantly by unknown forces,

Flickers and finally dies.

Awakening

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

Tightly closed against morning chill,

Holding essence tight like in-drawn breath,

Waiting for an unknown time

On an invisible clock to steal.

Who can fathom such silent wonder,

But stand in awe and ponder?

Majestic in crawling, slow motion,

Thrilling beauty to overflowing portion.

Arms now unfold in radiant bliss,

Greeting sunshine with a fragrant kiss.

Translucent petals, gorgeous disclose,

Sun’s warm rays now caress the rose.

Solitary Rose

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

In a single vase, a rose alone,

No spoken words intone,

But, could it speak, what prose

Would issue forth from this rose?

 

Surrounded by a snowy wealth,

Tightly nestled in baby’s breath,

Beauty and essence silently unfold.

Ageless message again retold.

 

Surrendering all, no questions why.

Muted beauty, silent to the eye.

Yet, could it speak real words, too:

“I’m love’s sweet token, just for you!”

It’s Not As It Appears

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

From Ming Dynasty

To urbane travesty,

Ancient pyramids,

Ages untold.

Mysteries beneath the sea,

Treasures beyond measure,

Yet all that glitters is not gold.

 

Old wisdom,

New wisdom,

Colors broken by a prism.

Rainbows cast in a cloudy sky.

Men haggle, question, and reason,

Searching the horizon for why.

A diamond in the rough is not enough.

 

Infinitesimal reaches of space,

Men scurry and race

To conquer and know the unknown,

Striving to be first,

To quench the unquenchable thirst

Of knowledge —

Or is it greed? —

Which pushes men toward the stars.

The well-worn shoe now cramps the foot.

 

Radio and television

Have created an invasion

Into history and lifestyles

With forceful persuasion.

Minds spoon-fed such

A diet of sensation

Soon lose innovation

And imagination.

A rose picked from the vine quickly loses its beauty.

 

%d bloggers like this: