sigh to breathe

[honeydumplin]

Oh liaison, on wayward storm
those auburn skies
still tempered, calm;
Both gain, or gone, now
even soar me with
the pang of thunder's roar.

Low jettison, high undertow
pull head, push back
so warmth doth charm;
That air whose dry,
permits the rain, and stirs
growth given in
valleys under

clouds.

[honeydumplin]

forego tall tally
timber, sought valley fall nigh
December, that morns
aplenty tillage gather
fed warm the dying ember.

where soon, ere noon rays
dry, sheer runaway dusk frost.
fields when from the ply,
beckon wind endeavor most;
reckon quiet shiver lost.

for lest foreign sounds
mount an echo bear in spring,
forests which, with each
year ring, rain another day
stream 'til its branch stowed gives way.

to rivulets, leaves.
to traverse rivers, a range;
thereon palettes vast
companion canvas color
as, perennial genre.

--kd

[honeydumplin]

On a next door chair, idly outside a neighbor perched greets with a nod.
An up and down rhythm, percussion beat,
He crushes aluminum cans, and my feet
Walk in sync with a strident barrage
hushing this silence there in his garage.

Then beside a pickup brought for a ride
I step side luck that shoulders provide.
Another dog barks. The poor driver parks.

Some lured advent - pure, steadfast sweet summer dew
soon brothers down heat, from streets gingerly past
plants she'd so seeded, found beautifully last
June.

[honeydumplin]

Agape aglow an aura from extreme sheens now
Or even so it seems to my culprit jets past
Music.

And maintains chase of
Certain fountain
Space
Unexpectedly.

Why it gives way somehow
To dopamine felt
Adrenaline haze, and grace,
I do not know. But if cries

Of love for others
Wrinkle fair goodbyes, stay high
Still; and wonder—feel

The air.

[honeydumplin]

Stare at the sky
carefree if you please.
Dare be one of kind
few on earth near any
balloon wave so soon a lone
bloom without key, to unwind your dear
heart synchronicity,
simply.

Hey, it's me text
in mime who will stand
second hand, chronos-
vexed still in time askew;
watch for the band, whose floral
bouquet dialect provide plenty
a steadfast divide want
only

of You.

[honeydumplin]

The disciples were absorbed in a discussion of Lao-tzu's dictum:

Those who know do not say;
those who say do not know.

When the Master entered, they asked him what the words meant.

Said the Master, “Which of you knows the fragrance of a rose?”

All of them knew.

Then he said, “Put it into words.”

All of them were silent.

Retold by Anthony de Mello
One Minute Wisdom
copyright 1988
p. 137

This poem is about a couple of people named Bogey, and Bergman
in a movie called Casablanca.

"Facsimile Thereof"

Ab ovo ensconced, behind a guise to dance
With a chance hereby enhanced.
A pearl aloof crowded stares.

A fancied tune titivates a tale scuples entail
By burdens betwixt gaited glares.

Arriving for waters; just a girl in a desert for starters,
About where the despised somehow seem to be trusted,
And a candid kiss is much more, than just a peck
via fore
A rainy iron-kneed gavotte box becomes rusted.

Hiding a hair's breath humming reel--a struggles appeal
By an hour glass configured, 'twas fairly dated.
As can be for soi-distant pari passu of escapes
born anew.
For even the tame, over time, become jaded.

Historic voices of Berlin have now grown grey and few,
While a gal twice man-tranced still likes to wear blue;
And hence the cliché, "Here's looking at you...",
Is far too well--overrated.

Nigh an eve pro prior to a bell of aurora,
Trenchant, and collected by fare,
A slightly-tilted, forward falling firth, from a fedora,
Gently ran on nodded modes near trouvre.

With nare noetic warning, nor doubted disclaimer,
A freedom fan flared, necessitated to namer her,
And flew her to a tour of a dear on a lease;
A pair of visas visa vis, a yon, trained deprivation chamber.

Far from a slave to a diminishing diameter, she sprung
like a rose in iambic pentameter,
Ceded not to the cranks of the grinder,
Whom traveled afar with no hope to find her.

But a coarsely-haired lass lay not in the prose
Of pourboire clubs donning shews of con crows,
Albeit feazed by a break of ties, with evanescent bows.

Strange as though, lured-like liberty,
Proceed through a path of lucidity,
When which enjoined in a tickled purdah
of melody,
Oozed a silent tune ivory.

Pondering the pond of posted proposal in lieu
Of dignity at the disposal,
She returned back to the cringed brede that blew
Winds baroque feminine, chivalry.

Whence feat of the moment pranced it,
She moved to the truce: Exit of transit.

Ventured in a purpose plane tight,
As should a proved deuce tide to delight.