Everything

Everything’s looted, betrayed and traded, black death’s wing’s overhead. Everything’s eaten by hunger, unsated, so why does a light shine ahead? By day, a mysterious wood, near the town, breathes out cherry, a cherry perfume. By night, on July’s sky, deep, and transparent, new constellations are thrown.

Just Beyond The Sunset

Just beyond the sunset Someone waits for me Just beyond the sunset Lies my destiny Where the purple mountains Lie in deep tranquillity There I’ll find the treasure Of love eternally Just beyond the sunset

A Boat Beneath A Sunny Sky

A BOAT beneath a sunny sky, Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July -- Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear, Pleased a simple tale to hear -- Long has paled that sunny sky: Echoes fade and memories die: Autumn frosts have slain July. Still she haunts me, phantomwise,

The Months

January brings the snow, makes our feet and fingers glow. February brings the rain, Thaws the frozen lake again. March brings breezes loud and shrill, stirs the dancing daffodil. April brings the primrose sweet,

You Are My Poem

Give me some letters I'll make words Give me some words I'll make sentence Give me some sentences I'll make poetry Give me some poems I'll find you there This is all about your poetic denotations

Epilogue To Through The Looking Glass

A boat, beneath a sunny sky Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July -- Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear Pleased a simple tale to hear -- Long has paled that sunny sky: Echoes fade and memories die:

To Helen - 1848

I saw thee once- once only- years ago: I must not say how many- but not many. It was a July midnight; and from out A full-orbed moon, that, like thine own soul, soaring, Sought a precipitate pathway up through heaven, There fell a silvery-silken veil of light, With quietude, and sultriness, and slumber, Upon the upturned faces of a thousand Roses that grew in an enchanted garden, Where no wind dared to stir, unless on tiptoe-

Will You?

The rising sun has yet to glow In his resplendent glory, The moon has not even begun her descent But I’m here on the shore, Thinking about you, Coz its only you That I can think of. Through all the sorrows and pain You will be by my side,

Attack Of The Squash People

And thus the people every year in the valley of humid July did sacrifice themselves to the long green phallic god and eat and eat and eat. They're coming, they're on us, the long striped gourds, the silky babies, the hairy adolescents, the lumpy vast adults like the trunks of green elephants.

Apples

Behold the apples’ rounded worlds: juice-green of July rain, the black polestar of flowers, the rind mapped with its crimson stain. The russet, crab and cottage red burn to the sun’s hot brass, then drop like sweat from every branch and bubble in the grass.

The Hunter

In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other's arms, seem still so that squirrels and colored birds go about at ease over the branches and through the air. Where will a shoulder split or a forehead open and victory be?

Charms

She walks as lightly as the fly Skates on the water in July. To hear her moving petticoat For me is music's highest note. Stones are not heard, when her feet pass, No more than tumps of moss or grass. When she sits still, she's like the flower

A Nature Lover's Diary

i love the river between the banks beshrew a drinker who doesn't give thanks i love the breeze hitting my face it's from my God, a very huge grace i love the culver flying free holding a branch of an olive tree i love the sun of a shiny day

Silent Steps

Have you not heard his silent steps? He comes, comes, ever comes. Every moment and every age, every day and every night he comes, comes, ever comes. Many a song have I sung in many a mood of mind, but all their notes have always proclaimed, `He comes, comes, ever comes.'

Good Night

Many ways to say good night. Fireworks at a pier on the Fourth of July spell it with red wheels and yellow spokes. They fizz in the air, touch the water and quit. Rockets make a trajectory of gold-and-blue and then go out. Railroad trains at night spell with a smokestack mushrooming a white pillar.

A Poet's Dilemma With Truth

Whatever the poet's eyes see, And his mind imagines, And his pen elaborates, Or whatever is written, In his unseen note book, Are all true and beautiful? The poet knows deep in his heart, The colorful lotus that dances afloat, Has her root anchored in the dirty mud.

My Home

This is the place that I love the best, A little brown house, like a ground-bird's nest, Hid among grasses, and vines, and trees, Summer retreat of the birds and bees. The tenderest light that ever was seen Sifts through the vine-made window screen-- Sifts and quivers, and flits and falls On home-made carpets and gray-hung walls.

High Flight….The Last Roll Over! (On Sad Demise Of Father)

”Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds, -and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of-wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there, I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air.... Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace

~ Delight Unalloyed ~

~ DELIGHT UNALLOYED ~ Ms. Nivedita UK 26 July 26,2010 Come alive In Pure Delight O’ You. Douse

I Have A White Rose To Tend (Verse Xxxix)

I have a white rose to tend In July as in January; I give it to the true friend Who offers his frank hand to me. And for the cruel one whose blows Break the heart by which I live, Thistle nor thorn do I give: For him, too, I have a white rose. CULTIVO UNA ROSA BLANCA... (Verso XXXIX)