Knowing edges of memories can take me there, I wait for
dream-like inspiration to take my hand and heart leading
me into the foray of past images.
Delegating feelings to fill my heart with tears, drifting
from inner emotional content.
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Loud drumming singing to me in harmony with my mind.
Benefiting everyone who will be touched with the spiritual side of the gifts they will be receiving on Christmas.Many smiles will be spread around, thanks to all the people who helped the United States Marines give toys for tots.
Following lines of demarcation, penetrating mires of unspoken riddles
Collecting approvals within, hoping to have some semblance ofcohesiveness and settling spontaneously in rhythms of togetherness, spinning tales of woe, relating them in poems of bereavement.Totaling life’s suffering and beauty of teardrops always fallingwithin each of us in our daily lives.Regrets and recriminations abound in memory, but when we breathe ourlast breath on earth we…
When life stands still, moments of silence penetrate the atmosphere,
Softly cascading, recreating happiness, echoing it’s joy infinitelyin minds usually filled with sorrow.Soothing, serenading voices laid to rest in bedding of silken peace.Sliding along paths of least resistance, flowing with patterns ofmusic, becoming the soul’s quiet undertaking.Finally at rest within oneself, feeling the quietness of naturalcalming solace.
Screens of football games running back and forth,
to a band of music, ringing around their minds.Tossing us out into spaces of rhythm, we interourselves inside the beat of daily living, keepingto nature’s ways.Unforgiving tunes, playing endlessly in our thoughtprocesses, even after we have heard our final themesin scores of musical bliss.
Crossing roads and thruways in my mind, finding elaborate trails into denizens of mountainous caves, creating hidden pockets of an essence not able to be held onto or limited in any way on earth.
Deciding it’s destiny and fate for tomorrow’s generations.
Enrapt in life, listening to it’s heartbeat alongside my own.
type being slowly recognized in my mind as that of naturalbeauty, situated in times of passive sorrow.Feeling it within, letting it consume me with a secret code,being translated as quickly as I write it into this poem.Not noticing anything besides myself, finding many thoughtsto arrange just so within my mind, letting myself be totallyengrossed in…