Orange Moon

Driving home 'round the bend
I ran into an orange moon.
Twas hanging right in front of me.
Right between the tall oak trees.

It stole my breathe in a second
It took my heart, right then and there.
I fell in love with you again,
by the sight of this orange moon.

I headed north down Randall Rd
and feared that I would loose it.
But there it was, just left of me.
That orange wafer of a moon.

It sailed so smoothly, yet shyly hid
between the trees and in the clouds.
No way for it to go un-noticed.
This larger then life orange moon.

I wondered if others thrilled over
this touchable site within the sky.
I wondered if Cosmo would mind
if I borrowed his moon tonight.

At that very moment, we connected.
As I felt you viewing...
that same orange moon.

Misty

Soft morning mist caresses me
like your memory
as a ray of sun peeks through
like your blue eyes upon my heart.
The birth of a flower rises up
from the earth
like your soul going home
to meet our Lord.


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Photo by Alex, at Photography by Alex
thanks, Alex!

Of Music

Is there no sweeter moment for my soul
then one that sings to me such sweet delight?
In the darkest of storms, it does console.
In the heat of passion, it can excite.
You ask of me which one my heart holds dear.
But how can I choose of only one song?
Rainbows and star dust, I can clearly hear.
As whispers in the night, travel along.
Sweet symphony still plays the water's edge.
I lose myself within the heart of rock.
Then I place my heart upon a thin ledge,
and soak myself into a writer's block.
Still sweet melodies sing of memories,
the beat that pulses through my arteries.

Of Peace and Joy

I learned as a child, the horrors of war.
I learned from books and pictures I saw.
I learned of hate, violence and greed
I learned of starving people, we couldn't feed.

I thought back then, the world would change
I thought other cultures, seemed really strange.
Why would they live in a place with no food and water?
Why would a parent pick a husband for their daughter?

Why does man fight over land, when there is so much?
Why can't we share the lands resources and such?
I thought time would civilize everyone.
But it's like waiting for the midnight sun.

I wish for us all, that wars would cease.
I pray everyday for world wide peace.
I found here, a little haven of joy,
of heart and soul...the real McCoy.

In our own little corner of the world, we live
with love, hope and understanding to give.
We, poets of the world, stand tall, stand proud
We speak in volumes without being loud.

Yet our message is heard through many words.
Rehearsed through scholars and even nerds.
Long live the words through our verse
as they enter the mind and then immerse.

The Dance

In the quiet of the night
learning poetry was contentment,
till there was a knock on the door
and an offer to dance.
A flower hesitated to bloom
in an uncaring world.
Who would notice her colours anyway?
Shyly her petals began to unfold.
How bold this dance made her feel.
Her colours began to radiate...
the most precious flower of the garden.
She stood tall, gaining strength in her stem.
Never before were her colours noticed.
She became tangled in the tango
revealing her morning dew
within her unfolded sepal.
During the intensity in the heat of the dance
the heart of the flower had been eaten.
This began the demise of the flower.
Her petals began to fall, one by one.
Once a muse for passionate poetry...
now left out in the rain to welter and cry.
The strength drained from her stem,
her colours sunk to the ground.
Yet still, her fragrance fills the air,
she knows this dance will not be forgotten.

Correct

Should I ever find myself
with map in hand
in passenger seat
in charge of destination
at the end of a road
where left is right,
never again will the words
"right" leave my lips.
Now and forever the right word is...

”correct!”

Fractured True Story

Once upon a time
one day a man was a gentleman
and took his lady out to din din
bought her a favorite CD
opened doors for her
held her ass tight
gave her lots of kisses
and whispered I Love You

But that was only one day
once upon a time ago

So she turned into a bitch
and turned him into a toad.

To be an egg

To be or not to be an egg
that is the question.
To be taken away and carted
to end up scrambled or fried.
Or hard boiled and colored
for an Easter surprise.

To be or not to be an egg
O! which one came first?
To be fertilized, then disorganized
to end up in a carton with
unfertilized eggs
and cracked open for a meal
O! what a horrid surprise!

Full moon

The moon is full tonight
and I want to write it!
But my muse has gone
and run away with all
the showers of April.

April is....

National Poetry month!
Do you know where your pen
and paper are?

Fantasy's Trail

Heavy grow my lids
as I absorb this adventure.
Silhouetted tall-framed figure
appears in my daytime dream.
Backtrack to leaves of green
on a humid summer night.
You sing to me a serenade
beneath the bright moon light.
Every night we walk this trail.
We walk and talk of how we'll be
in years to come, forever young
within our hearts and poetry.


© Vivian

Words at Bay

Upon a whisper and warm breath
you slip into my dream...
fingers running 'round and 'round
my auburn strands of hair.

All wrapped up in my slumber
I taste your hunger
and the words you keep at bay.

I see within your eyes of truth
the colors rich in years gone by.

I feel the words you mean to say
inside my mouth born of a kiss
that only night can bring.

Yet in the dawning hour
your heated breath sears my skin
as our song sings out
and I swallow the words I long to say...

the very words you always
keep at bay.

Spring Arrives

springtime
fills the morning
with a promised warming
riding in on an ocean breeze
that lingers through the tops of budding trees
as winter sheds its snowy robe
like a shaken glass globe
surrenders to
springtime



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Help! this rictameter poem is supposed to be centered and I can't figure out how to do that....anybody know how to? Thanks!

Poetry Alive!

Will you join me on a journey?
Imagine we can connect the stars,
and sing a silly love song,
as we leave behind our scars.

With our feet firmly planted on the ground,
we travel over hills of moss and clover.
To invigorating words we find we’re bound,
As each new verse we carry over.

I am born of Spring

I am born of Spring
before my time
God had a plan for me
I will go forth and plant seeds