Okay, Courage,
come with me
wherever
I go–
let’s go!

Let’s pas de bour rée
in the dance floor of despair
through grace
in acceptance and hope–
let’s go!

Let’s close-up-smile
in the valley of tears
through memories
of kisses and good cheers–
let’s go!

Let’s pole the flag of resilience
in the mountain of ridicule
through compassion
to the cynic and ignorant–
let’s go!

Let’s dive the depth of possibilities
in the sea of skepticism
through faith
that He remains
and goodness reigns–
let’s go!

Let’s fly high
in blue
even in grayish sky
on the wings of benevolence
and love.

Okay, Courage?
C’mon,
Let’s go!

The sacred rendezvous of Sun and Moon
in the purple sky above when evening looms,
where red, orange, and yellow
horizons are reflected below,
tenderly caressing the pristine waters of Marianas
while white dolphins and blue whales from Hawaiianas
are dancing
while pink mermaids are singing
in jubilee of an eternal knot
witnessed by sterling stars
and shimmering sands–
that my sweetest,
is the portrait
of this beautiful thing
we carry in our hearts
from the time we’re wrapped
in ethereal wombs
till death and beyond doom.

Original Post:

Not Even Monalisa Can Come Close

Personal: Thank you for your generosity; and God bless us all! Happy blogging! 😘😘😘

Featured Song:

Portrait of My Love

By Matt Monro, 1967

(Videos courtesy of YouTube)

The moon was blue;
The Chinky Owl went to twig so early;
The mosquitoes were fasting
in sympathy with me–

So please come back.

Please come back;
Please get your bebedees.

No, thank you!
I don’t need
aromatherapy.

*Smiley
fuming jn red,
and very,
very,
very
angry.

YouTube/Blue Moon/Eb Duet

Amid four-thousand-seven-hundred-one miles, 

you’re the biggest rainbow gaily arched 

and watching me above,

enjoying the picturesque 

of me 

bragging my cheeks 

to the timid raindrops 

pouring down:

. . . from the rusting valleys 

to the greenest mountain;

. . . from the rushing rivers

to the bluest sea:

I see you smile

dreaming of me.

If Tampax birds,

and sexy-walking penguins 

can dream of something real,

why can’t we?