Poetic Symphony


At dawn hear the birds sing when morning comes
The dew on grass shimmers by the sun
Ever so gentle leaves flutter with the wind
Lost in the beauty that fills from within

How songs tell stories with a soulful melody
Brushes stroke paint into images velvety
Dancers sway provocative, wet and sultry
A poet gifts a muse with a poetic symphony

Could love come knocking, wishful thinking
Knocking socks off, a whirlwind spinning
Dazed and confused the heart takes over
Smothering logic its hard to stay sober

I’m drawn to the stars how they sprout at night
Accompanied by the moon makes it feel right
In the comfort of its glow is like being home
Chasing dreams, a star seeds call to roam

Ax

Stories of the Past and Future


When did time create the first story
Was it written about the past in glory
I wonder, was it about hunting an animal
To feed, clothe, a tribe living in the jungle
Grunting verses told by primitive charades
By fire, under moon, a wolfs howl fades

Stories of past explorers and sailors
Crossing seas in search of futures
A new world, there had to be one
Planting, growing, evolving on up
Look to the stars, a journey beyond
A kaleidoscope of colours and song

Wars that eliminate species and races
Recording a history of greed and violence
Lessons taught to the young at heart
Not to repeat what ills man has rot
But to set an open course and unite
A world as one, for a future we may write

Ax

The Final Piece ~ the end ~ CDXCVII/ D


A time it was not long ago, a visitor came as pleased. It began as a tease you see, he made me believe. I fell into his trance and just like that, gave a jolt. Propelled towards riches of grandeur in hope.

Rising, rising, ever so slowly rising, the horizon. Appears a stare so far into the future, an illusion. Flickering bolts of lightning behind a blanket of clouds. Illuminates a glow that turns everything upside-down.

Reflecting like a mirror to show the truth of ones soul
I see mine, staring into my eyes in judgment I alone behold. Hello darkness my old friend, you’ve returned once again. Perhaps to place the final piece and ease this puzzles pain.

Ax

Reading My Mind ~ the end ~ CDXCVI/ D


I found ink in my veins
from a cut of a blade
dripped as a line
that turned into a rhyme
blood dried soaking up eyes

reading my mind…

I found ink in my veins
from a beating heart
boils with thoughts
exploding in my head
misty heat escapes from blasting breath

leading my mind…

I found ink in my veins
from a pounding brain
shots of lightning bolts spark a fire
burns the words flaming dire

bleeding my mind…

I found ink in my veins
from a passionate will
craves to speak a perfect prose
trembling with fear
that your ears would hear

heeding my mind.

Ax

If I Were An Artist II


His gift was a song for him to give
Mine is a poem and it goes like this…

If I Were an Artist

I would paint a sky so blue, it would fade to the horizon, where the tops of glacial peaks crown the trees that leads to the sea.

I would try to write a song that would say, I love you in many ways and pause, long enough to steal a kiss, of those lips, that would make hearts skip

I would dip strawberries in chocolate, serve wine in a goblet, carve a dish with meats and fish, shuck oysters that would fuel the desire to fuck

I would die to become an angel, to watch over the children abused and taken by the cruel side of the earth, where life is not honoured divine

I would, if I were an artist, reach for stars to connect every being in this universe, with the love it needs to survive beyond the here and now

Ax