Belated Words

Write On!

Tag: bliss

  • Nimbus

    Wind awakens in courteous puffs

    nudging drowsy trees to breathing, yet

    allowing lazy-child chime a sleep-in.

    Yawning sun flows over dew-sheen

    in soft sighs, sating my August heart.

    Yet, with the brimming, fear of the hollow

    following; the known ebbing of hope

    of this bliss someday returning.

    Grass laid down his jeweled-cloak

    to cast my steps in brief time, but

    ……my prints are fading fast behind;

    I’ve laid no cave line, the way is lost.

    One step passed bliss was taken:

    one, two, then more into this alien tangle;

    dew-bliss, now, only a suspect memory,

    a dying nimbus, a heart’s quiver only.

  • who knows?

    Goldfinch ravishing the sunflowers!  Too much yellow!

    Too loud; his song demanding…screeching:  Me! Me!

    Entertaining, but not subtle enough for beauty?  Maybe.

    Though there are truths he does parade; offering for a fee.

    Can beauty only be the delicate; truth only glaring?

    “The truth is ugly!” “You can’t handle the truth!”

    A curve of flesh, real, depicted or imagined can still

    Elicit bliss; the intuited joy of the incorruptible line.

    Gastrocnemius, Soleus, Iliotbial, Peroneus enfolded;

    The legs perfection of muscle, tendon, bone and skin.

    Middle-aged crisis guy entranced by a woman’s legs;

    Her elongated neck’s porcelain skin, shiver releasing.

    Does need dictate the beauty we see…becoming our truths?

    Truth might be beauty; perceived beauty our only truths.

  • The Blissful are Pardoned

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    We walk daily; Fuzz, so ravenously alive,

    reclaiming spots he owned the day before,

    brashly stolen, claimed by a vagabond mutt.

    This was my take at first, his selfishness:

    primal greed.

    Now I see only frantic glee of knowing wafted

    through quivering nostrils scripture enshrined in golden globes

    left to entice on green/grass blades and sticks.

    He wears the mantel of joy reading ecstatic visions;

    cheeks pulsating, pulling in holograms only he can see.

    wonders I can never see….never imagine!

    Fuzz is joyous in his bliss of piss and I

    cursed with crude senses, can only cry for his joy;

    for joy is joy, not to be diminished.

    If he in canine/glee jerks our tether in disregard of me,

    I still can only smile though yanked, drug hard

    from bush to yellow spot of grass and post.

    The blissful are pardoned for thoughtlessness.