and in today’s news….

to all who breathes

and to all who leaves;

each day we wake,

and each day we take.

as we forget,

we sometimes forfeit.

american holiday mix drink toast,

raise your glasses and let ourselves roast.

take heed to the news that rapes our emotions,

natural disasters make for a false front for needed national answers.

“and in today’s news,

the media molds your mind like paper mache…,

details at eleven…”

 

and yet to all who breathes

and to all who leaves;

each day we wake,

and each day we take.

and as we forget,

we sometimes forfeit.

 

 

 

c. 2015  bgw

she never can fade away

it’s ninety-five degrees on a september afternoon –

and so the autumn fall was put on hold.

the rain, did it fall.

and yet the rain itself would never remember –

that it was me,  engulfed in its flood;

leaving me cold and exposed,

ribs turn to gills,  her whisper sips across my ear

and gives me chills;

remembering once again

everything that was

and to all that refuses to be abandoned.

so when music became motionless

and words we once shared are deafening and foreign,

we find that a sunrise hides,

and yet still shines behind a cloak of grey.

where everyone was, i was left on the ground;

out of all the people huddled around,

none could see the crumbling of a broken soul.

ribs turn to gills,  her whisper sips across my ear

and gives me chills;

remembering once again

everything that all was,

and to all that refuses to be abandoned –

she still remains in all that refuses to be abandoned.

 

c.2015  bgw

 

in the washing rains

lightning sparks,

shining the reflection in the window mirrored.

a loud thunder clasp snaps soon after.

startling the sparrow, he flies through the rains falling.

there, it takes shelter under the leaves above;

watch as the old man walks under the dangling branches,

through the puddle ridden sidewalks.

past the neighbors window,

he walks by and their dog barks.

the rains come pouring down,

and washes away all the dirt;

storms move in and welcome the floods with a fresh scent –

through the mist of fallen drops;  swells the drying riverbeds.

in the washing rains

poor lady luna holding a sign

standing between the center line –

looking for someone to wipe away the pain

filling her empty veins

all awhile her newborn son lights up

and then cries out of hunger –

crying out of hunger;

lightning sparks,

shining the reflection in the window mirrored.

a loud thunder clasp snaps soon after.

startling the sparrow, he flies through the rains falling.

there, it takes shelter under the leaves above;

watch as the old man walks under the dangling branches,

through the puddle ridden sidewalks,

past the neighbors windows,

he walks by and their dog barks.

the rains come pouring down,

and washes away all the dirt;

storms move in and welcome the floods with a fresh scent –

through the mist of fallen drops;  swells the drying riverbeds.

 

 

c. 2015 bgw

restless sleep

i woke from my sleep about one in morning

dark resting eyes awaken in a fresh sought vision

and through the windows view was the full moon shining bright.

there i was in the middle, such a mid dream wonder;

the words were swimming in a pool of dreaming ponder.

there she was, once again – woman adored;

now just comes and goes in teasing haunting visions.

tossing and turning and time silently sneaks into the morning’s light.

beset passion soaked deep within desolate skin covered.

knowing that i have only four more hours to go

before this alarm clock here starts screaming;

still i toss and turn in a suspension of consciousness act.

i woke from my sleep about fifteen minutes before the great day start

dark resting eyes awaken in a fresh sought vision

sunlight peeks and lifts my eyelids good morning.

there i was in the middle, such a mid dream wonder

dark resting eyes awaken in a fresh sought vision.

 

 

 

c. 2015 bgw