They do not die,
these poets,
they are absorbed,
slowly by the year,
feeding the tongue’s root,
weighing the worth of hearts,
swinging from page to page,
a rustle of birdsong in the morning,
a glimmer of twilit truth,
always gold,
not tarnished,
never fading.

Gone
In days
Muttering of war.
The postures
Of the scrubbed,
Dead eyed ones,
Once more decrying
Alternatives to destruction.
Their squealing slavering
Shall be spittle
In the breeze
On sea cliffs
Where your
Insistent gentle roar
Will bring wheels
Of gulls
And bees to drift
On warming slopes,
The sound of waves,
God breathing
As He too,
Rolls those lines
To and fro.

Once carved
And carried,
A pomander
Of sweet eyed
Clarity, a sword,
A vinegar, to cut
The fickle fat
Of lazy habit.
A new recognition,
A reconstruction
Of heaven
Where we stand.
Perfect
As it is,
Sweet sufferer,
But not of…

Leaves are falling from the Sky
Through the warm Summer breeze
With a Silent cry,
Capturing my Imagination,
I look up into the Emerald trees,
Enjoying the fresh Sensation;
Autumn Tumbling from the Sky
Into the Evening breeze
With a Joyous cry,
Tantalizing my Admiration,
As I Smile up at the Emerald trees,
With Inestimable Appreciation,
Of Autumn Leaves Cascading from the Sky.

~Morgan~

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Image found at: ak1.picdn.net/shutterstock

Today we went to war

And I turned the other cheek

I learned to let my actions override

My ability to speak

What can I say about glorious injustice

Where I can I read more

To teach others

What we might find in our own hearts?

Would I know that soldier if I saw her

Would I be able to face the horrors

We create

Would I see

Would I see

Me…

A perfect mirror-image

How can so much pain

Coexist with so much hope

How will we learn to share

This precious volatile planet

And still have more to give

Where is this collective consciousness?

Where are our minds in times like this?
More importantly, where are our hearts?

Would you stay with me

Which you hold my hand

Would you face the place

Where all the bombs land

Would you pray with me

If it meant eternal peace

She held his hand

as they walked through

the sun’s last rays,

fire in the sky.

They walked,

bare feet on wet sand.

They walked through

the night

knowing the sun

would eventually rise,

spraying

its warmth,

its gold

across the black sky.

They walked with

fingers,

arms,

cheeks,

lips

touching.

They walked until

their feet were

raw and bleeding

the love they shared.

They walked a path

marked with crimson

footsteps.

They walked towards

dawn

and the end.

She held his hand

and they walked

in unison

knowing that fate

meant their

parting,

that the future

held their distance

in its hands.

They walked feeling

their hearts

sift through their

clenched fingers.

The sun,

blinding with beauty,

breached

the black horizon,

leaving them on separate

shores,

on distant beaches

with just the memory

of sunset.

It’s been a while
A very long time since that last time I thought about you
However that distance in time was much need
To realize you were never worth the pursuit
Never worth my truth
The sky that day our eyes met, showered something for me to love
But those droplets were never intended to land on
Rather they were meant to fall and flow along a stream that would eventually
Grace the bare feet of a man
That would only love me from the water he stands on to however far “up” ..travels

All as it is, is meant to be here
There is nothing that exists without reason
Let go of fear and let flow come
In to your life to wash away fear

All that’s here is meant to be here
All that exists has a part to play
Each beautiful piece of land and creature
Has its own magnificent part to play

You yourself are full of wonder
A wonderous creation to your core
Let the beauty from within flow through you
Let yourself just be as you are

You are a wonderous beautiful being
So magnificent in every single way
Recognise this completely;
Then all darkness will soon dissipate

~ M.L.Adams