I want you
like pistachio ice cream
on a hot summer day.
To taste your sweetness
and salty kisses as we
wile the night away.
One day I am really going to grow wings
and sit beside morning doves in
apprentice to their dawning song.
When I grow wings I will aim far above
skyscrapers, higher than the
counted blessings of temple bells floating
up and up until they become ebbing
stars winking in approval of lovers’ kisses.
On my new wings, outstretched, I will
balance without touching anything,
held motionless in the breath of God.
She will not fail me.
And I will not forget your eyes or touch,
the laughter we shared, our creation.
When I grow wings, really grow them,
that’s what I will do.
That’s what I will do when I return to Forever
sporting my newborn wings.
You can’t make a red rose blush pink,
it’s sanguine face has loved too deeply
to be innocent.
Purple, not blue, colors the violet,
a lie told for too many years.
I looked for blue in your violet eyes.
In gentle light of fading sun,
when I know deep stillness
will soon shroud my being,
I slow myself to pause in the
flush of day’s end, and ready
myself to plunge with audacity
into the unknown.
It is my feast day, a remembrance
day of my birth, the beginning
from depth into light, from
assurance into bold awakening.
I’ve traveled far since my advent,
crossroads in the distance call for
negotiation. But this night gives
me joys to savor.
In gratitude I hold you dear,
my friend, my love. My heart
is extravagant with your presence.
I am brave in your goodwill. I
am boundless in my journey
with you at my side.
You spoke to me today
morning crescent moon alight at
the foot of my bed welcoming me awake
Your voice gentle rising steam
cupped within, held in my hand
warming the early chill
I heard your laughter today
my heart beats strong and faithful
for those who make me laugh
When I listen, you are there
whispering my name
holding me near
Little poems of love – to the Creator, the Goddess, to my love, and all those I love and who love me.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
In this story, she knows no fear.
Softness of last light crosses her cheek.
The hush of evening’s calm enters her,
spirals inward, down. An afterthought
of day’s swiftness tumbles into moist earth
beneath her bare feet. His caress tenders a longing
deep within her being, this story hers, eyes closed
to what is, inhales all that could be.
Valentine’s Day and the first line from the poem Khaleesi Says by Leah Umansky, author of Domestic Uncertainties, is my inspiration.
The glimpse of
your perfect smile
alone for me to see
under the moon
is that moment
when the moon realizes
it is not the light of the
night that guides me