Deprived of time,
Hindered by miles,
Faced with do-nots rhyme—
How it conquered thy being,
There’s no way of telling

Careless
If lizards are eavesdropping;
Careful
If mice are screeching,
Relentless in digging

Perhaps
This,
That
Damn thing
Must be a wonderful thing

Brown eyes
Are lightening;
White enamels
Are sparkling
Evincing harmony within

Perhaps
This,
That
Damn thing
Is truly a wonderful thing.

Featured Song:

Wonderful World
by Renee Olstead

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?

– Originally written and posted on August 14, 2014 –

A dance
under the moonlight
and on top the hill,
where city lights
and stars
are witnessing:

Me–
grinning
in a red haltered dress
and blue stilletos;
playfully wiggling
my hips
to grace.

You–
gearing
in a black sleek suit
and white checkered tie,
seriously advancing
your steps
towards my way.

As the mono plays
while our song
fills the air:
your right hand
locked
on my waist
to stay;
While my lips,
laced
on the auricle
of your left,
blowing our sanity
away.

Sprigs in rust,
red,
gold,
and yellow
are filling the meadows.

Falling leaves
are hurrying
to kiss
the crying ground–
who cares what abounds!

In the cold murder
of their dream to be together;
Again, reality,
is the ruthless killer,
Again, on the loose again!

Poorest wistful bliss declared:
Dead on the Scene.
Poorer dream: Unresponsive.
Poor gusty winds in cuffs charged:
Accomplice.

On a Friday Morning,
Forsaken trees sing elegy,
while dead Heart gives its own eulogy:
“Odi et amo-”
Her closing verse.

The bereaved are tearless;
while the Grasshoppers mourn like mistresses;
oh, but the crickets are speechless.
Guess, they’ve never seen
that much tears and tearless before.