Barosus is a merry frog in who lives by springs of water
Like Bombadil of old he sings to the river’s daughter
He wears no gaudy coat of blue, nor any boots of yellow
But in the misty vale he dwells, a happy froggy fellow
Of misty hills, of ponds and rills, and frogs in lily water
Fairest sun and softest rain with skillful words he brought her
Elm, and ash and poplar fair, all drink the river’s waters
But fairest far of all the trees was oak's enchanted daughter
And she delights to warm his heart, with acorn bells a ringing
When moonlight gilds the tranquil vale, you can hear him singing
So sing along, in jolly song, o polywogs a
So beautiful the blue sky peeping through the trees,
The tropical sound of birds, the feeling of freedom and of lightness in your life,
Then why is there a cloud that is descending on that scene
Why does it infiltrate my very mind and thoughts?
That want so much to feel the lightness of my heart.
It is the slowness of a loss that is to come,
The day to day gradual infiltration of memories lost,
The memories of shared life and love,
The memories that will not be shared in future times,
Is there a point to keep the strength to carry on?
What inspiration can be found to face the years to come.
It can be found forever in a love that is shared f
Side porch
under stars tonight
soaking up their soft-lite
contemplating
why I took to writing
once again
Looking back over
words I've written
Darth Vader mug
I'm whiskey sipping
on some sober moments
and pickled endorphins
I picked up my pen again,
post years that slobbered
ink's sweet death,
For no apparent reason
for the first time
in my life
Words are flowing,
if not going
anywhere quite right..
Either way,
this side porch serves
me quite well, tonight
son, when all this is over
you will remember there's an entire world out there
that you have never explored,
so you will run around and meet other kids
and play tag and fill your lives with laughter,
and this house will be a home once more
instead of prison walls or some fortified tower
keeping us safe from unseen enemies.
and me,
I will knock our neighbour's doors and stand 2 metres too close
when I hug and thank them for their songs,
I will meet strangers when I roam the healing streets
no masks will hide my smile and I won't inch away or recoil
as if everyone is silently scheming
to steal our breaths away.
and us, we could be whole again
Haley says Juniper is like a seed which, in his season, never flowers
Says he finds none beside the blossoms in the bench-worn courtyard
Surrounds, does metal which plants plug; deaf, embroiden, decipher
Does Haley, by talking to paper outstand the barrier what Suns for
Juniper swears Haley, from the trellis cracks, listened. Sweat-dent,
He jokes, like acidosis on the two sitting stones her feet frequent
Eroding because they grew, separate, together. He, a secret, and
She absorbed him, recorded, quickly became like the tangent
More like a seed which, all time, can’t flower
Besides, she can’t much see the blossoms within the cour
Resting Mona Lisa Face (R.M.L.F.) by TheLunaLily, literature
Literature
Resting Mona Lisa Face (R.M.L.F.)
Resting Mona Lisa Face,
that is what I possess.
Allow me to reframe this:
I am not a work of art,
I am a work in progress,
constantly culling the chaos.
I am a quiet Creatrix.
This vessel of mine
contains mythos
and macrocosms;
they are the lights in my eyes,
these secret worlds in orbit.
R.M.L.F.
Yes,
I confess
with a curl of my lip—
I’d apologize,
but I can not help it.
kinetic stream indulgence
chewing steam from Amsterdam [and]
the world has shucked our oyster
so meet me in the orchard
and wear that small black
Pandora’s smile
where we’ll deliquesce with
light entropic
delinquent serpentine
and God’s hand a midnight nebula
neon in the sky
she was dressed in archaic mechanics
Greek fire spewing
from rubric-green eyes
and in this optional war
we sit on the cusp
of a blistered and saccharine sky
but i –
could probably be a better heathen
in hopes she might spread
her derelict wings and consume
the aggregate flesh of my transgressions