elo69 Poetry (189)

dreams hold the mass of a feather
as they nestle in wing together
made from days into seasons long
by earth which writes this song
but only the sun can truly fly
down into sea left the burning sky

When somebody you love dies,it just makes you feel so alone inside. Like there is this weight pushing you down and even though you have to keep moving it's not the same.As you begin to come to terms with it,you see that it is not about you or how you feel,that the real value of the loss is all about them and what you could have shared had they not departed. That part sucks even worse. The biggest thing about really healing is just remembering them,remembering the love that they gave you and trying to honor that. That's the part that reminds us we are not alone in this world and can lift up a bit of that weight .........................much love..... elo

once for the moon
or twice in June
because we love to soon
or not at all
and leave these scribbles upon the wall

how will you measure
the distance in her eyes
by any length or breadth of mind
for the universe is only
a few flakes of gold
in a thimble full of ocean
when it's time to say goodbye

water on this soul for sleep
what been held and held so deep
that there in dream to keep
a few memories of here face
with the tears I did not weep
spread across the pigments in the wash

Tides in the light of her eyes
dreams the soul of autumn sky's
as water and memory rise
tell of each leaf the colors arise
beauty's river seasons will baptize
green to red and the golden prize

tears for heaven
Goddess of a weeping Autumn moon
her crown of leaves and stars
left by alter of winters door
she dances to a harp made of rain
grace following beauty
turning with the earth in her arms

what but love twas the most divine
that every poet has praised its beauty in rhyme
as if by stars in eyes,planets align
distilling from sunset this Autumns wine
which has such effects on the mind

for the ravens of her hair where dark of luster's bright
casting mystery's shades upon skin so light
and in every shadow a door through which soul takes flight
but it is her lips which even the moon would be blessed to alight
for not a thousand poems could their shape recite

scarlet in Autumn eyes like flakes of gold through September sky's
where harvest lies thickening fields of the wise
as the sickle of moon does turn by kith or seasons learn
for soon Octobers horse will burn by pulling the chariots prize
and every leaf will dream shades in a river made of color

songs on the moon for love
like tides in the days they fall
making seasons on a wall
from which the flowers grow

for this is the same sand
upon which are ancestors one wept

lady of bulls
from the the memory's of the first people
who shaped your breast from clay
in the Vally of jaguars
where maidens looked in polished obsidian mirrors
while adorning themselves in copper and gold
incense ceder and shells from a distant sea carved delicate beads
family's watched sunsets on fields of rippled grain
in a paradise before the dawn of war for the city had no walls

houses where entered through the roof,over the kitchen and down the chimney as it were,loved ones were buried beneath the floor,men on the left and women to the right,wight washed mud bricks carried pictures of dreams from another age,painted skillfully by hand of love
moving bright red ocher
great ancestors of my spirit
shall are hands not move of unison
as we look at the canvas and dream a goddesses face
for time is only dust between us
and souls are always born true

what by the tide of the wind has sung
leaf from tree and into song been flung
for we are all the dreams of spring
breathless on the ladder of seasons rung

she dances on the morning wing
touching all without hands to cling
soft or harsh as a mothers tongue
only to fade to memory of things that sing