Returned

pkp - st thomas , usvi 

Returned 

Under the cover of moon the child crept

in clandestine hope - to snatch lost love from those

waves seen crashing over her pair of petulant parents

To lift the buried box of lies from sticky clay

To rend apart sealed serious lips

To seek and find the Angel Hope tossing

sparkling moon-lit smiles

To catch an armful and run on soft silent soft bare soles

back home under the cover of moon - soft- night

To find, to return and to fix in forever-place her parents’

drifting, floating, fragmented all but filamented love ….

and bask blissful in the dawn, soaked in the  

the rising pure peals of her parents’ joined joyous laughter.

Returned.
~

The Sunday Whirl

In pursuit of Venus

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In pursuit of Venus 

~

In pursuit of Venus I flee

I flee this persimmon pulsed prison

of goods, cash and thwarted passion

I fling off my cloak, gather my

skirt fast-held for flight in one firm fist

and run

In pursuit of Venus I flee

feet flying into the wild wooded luminous lens

into that eye of wanton white whirling light

Possessions. Past. All now tumbled irrelevancies,

dropped, discarded, already forgotten falsities -

Here in the lush madness of mossy green

I toss my shoes and feel the wet earth

cool, calm and welcoming under the arch of

my soul and arrive, -

panting- slowed – at the edge of that

oft envisioned clearing

Here.

At last.

Bathed in the glory of Venus,

Reflected in the lens of the Goddess

Borne on wings of desire into being

waits

my

beloved

bare arms flung wide

in rapacious anticipation

and

I 

stop.

~ 

The Sunday Whirl « weekly wordles

On the Border of Fatherhood

view-image.php by Maliz Ong

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view-image.php Adrian Paulino

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On the Border of Fatherhood

Oh thanks for the trouncing the bouncing insight

Your word on “the issue” that we talked through the night

I thought in our world on you in this crisis I would depend

Never realized land-mined forces would explode our road to that rubbled end

Oh thanks for the trouncing, the bouncing “insight”

On a blossoming seedlet, - termed “cavalierly” our mutual plight

You chose “weeding” quick and for all “the best thing”

Really? I foolishly thought love morphed to a wedding - a ring

Oh thanks for the trouncing in your oh so wise bouncing insight

Shoulders squared, I, mother-to-be, we walked from you into the night

The night that transcended into one after another bright shimmering day

Melted to rippled rich years emptied of you in all but one irrevocable way

The Sunday Whirl