Somewhere out there, the cuckoo's call
Haunts the empty, early morning streets
As she flits from ground to branch and back
Again, searching for her long lost nest...
...
Three blossoms dancing -
Exiled to a country far away.
Baffled, buttressed by the breeze,
Leaves falling on the doorstep.
...
Look, listen, taste, feel, hear and sense All around you, be awake to the world, sleep soundly and wake with a little tent of blue heaven in the sky. On cloudy days, climb the stairs and reach for the stars.... To write is to dream. And to dream to write is the best dream of all.... to love, to lose, to love again.... to love life is what we are made to do. Otherwise, the darkness prevails and that is not permissible.... A writer writes so write! ! ! An ordinary gal in a crazy world...)
In The Purple Light
Somewhere out there, the cuckoo's call
Haunts the empty, early morning streets
As she flits from ground to branch and back
Again, searching for her long lost nest...
And here, lying close to you - I feel your
Breath upon my skin and the pulse beats
Warily within, causing an eruption of fire -
A baptism of tenderness and new found love.
We are together yet mysteriously apart -
Within the heart, nothing can separate us
And the night's purple shadows lengthen
And erase all of our combined past's weariness...
Listen to the silence and embrace
The morning that is yet to come.
O! Your beautiful mouth, lost in sleep...
I would kiss those lips a thousand times
And never tire of their sweetness...
My mind whirls in a thousand different colours...
A canvas of contentment.
very good poem and very sensual; if i had to choose a title for it; i would prefer