“The Blue Love”

How can love be so lonesome that it turns blue,
Even when you inveigle to let it stay red?
How can you even feel so utterly alone
Despite being in a relationship with someone else?
Yes, you call each other various endearments
That signify a loving connection between you both. Continue reading “The Blue Love”



(c) Pinterest Photo.
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She went out into the world–
Excited and ripe.
The universe was up for her picking
And every novel item made her smile.
Dancing her way
Through crevices and alleyways,
She acknowledged each gaping bloom
And gawking gecko–
Anxious to be friends with all.
Then one gecko approached her,
Armed with an elfish grin on his face.
She said, “Hi!”
With all the charm and wit, about her.
They became close and he toured her
All throughout the garden–
Showing her the shrouded interstices
Of this Newfoundland of hers.
The captivating lizard dazzled her
With everything there was.
They gamboled about, in oblivion–
Him, cajoling her to enjoy;
Her, relishing every morsel of his sphere.
What she didn’t fathom
Was that each thing came with a price.
He was of that complex realm
And she was merely a new distraction–
A marvelous divertissement, he deduced.
She took in all sights and tastes,
Careless and free, at last.
“Ah! This is life!” she announced.
A few weeks of vacuous pleasures
And the gecko got weary of her zest.
He was ready to move on–
She was evolving into a pesty baggage.
He threw her away and vanished.
She woke up, disoriented and alone.
The sheltered lass wept–
Inveigled to find him, yet again.
For years, she travelled all over the kingdom–
Peering into every face,
Desiring each to be his.
But, existence wasn’t always for the naive.
Torn and crestfallen,
She went back to her cage.
“Oh, I shouldn’t have
Ventured out of this hutch.
Now, I’m more depressed than before!”
She lamented.
The world is a wondrous dominion;
But, it isn’t for the innocent and the meek.



“Sparks Fly”

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sparks fly, like little dancing mites–
littering the dark with glittering shine.
the moon is hiding among the clouds.
my soul is cold–lies in the ground.

a tiny flicker, of dusted light,
floats amid the gathering night.
it floats near my line of sight;
teasing me, like a diminutive kite.

the heart that once hoped
for some minute rope,
has given up the onerous fight.
nothing looks good, tonight.

glow some more, tiny sparkly fire.
lend more heat to my pyre.
burn me easy–cover my grief.
the soul gives up–gone stiff.