Poem: C'est tout ce que j'ai

It is all that I have.
My dignity, my pride... my love, my compassion.
C'est tout ce que j'ai.
Mon coeur that beats.
It is all that I have.
What is passed the wall of pride, the dignity that has died?
To half them.
C'est tout ce que j'ai.
L'amour and my compassion.
My heart beats.
Why?
My love, my compassion...
Are these the atoms of my cells that run through my veins, pumped from head to toe?
I hope so.
That would be pure.
It is all that I have.
C'est tout ce que j'ai

Poem: I have need

I have need for your heed.
The color of my need is red.
Like the royalty of kings,
Like the roses red, blood red.
Your heart beats, mine in tune.
Red like the sunset chased by the moon.
Cold.
I have need of warmth.
I have need of red...your red.
Your warm earth under me.
...NOW!... I have need, just of your heed.

Poem: A lovely day in Paris: Le métro

The air is chilled out side the dungeon steps that descend to the stench below.

Autumn brings the colored leaves to rest about my feet.

I don't want to go below.

I wish to wait for the bus and go by street.

I read the sign... no bus... I bellow “no”

I guess I must go below.

As I descend those stairs, my pass quickens, hurry, hurry.

The hustle bustle is almost more than I can bear.

What a stench there is below!

A resonating tone, the doors slide shut we are off.

The man jammed next to me!

His face is smashed against the window.

We are sardines in is boxcar.

 The scene is rather frantic here below.

Claustrophobic frightened eyes dart about in a furry.

Hurry, hurry as the doors close tight.

There is a good variety in the metro.

From all over the people are closed tightly together.

Two stops left before I take flight.

My relief... speaker, “we having technical difficulties, we will be moving shortly”

My relief has taken flight before I,

Am closed tight, next to Monsieur,

We start to move.

Two stops later, I arrive late.

I begin the first flight of steps from below

There are two to go.

One

The last... a blast of cool air slows my assault.

Gasp!

Freedom.   

Poem "The sounds of the soothing spring"

The sounds of the soothing spring sauna are heard along with the sense of touch like the cool breeze washes lover your body like the heat previously did. The simultaneous noises that birds make as they play in the branches of gardens. The budding foliage fights off the last few months of hibernation. Colorful and reveling cloths that cover the joyful women; making hormones rage in ray ban clad boys who watch giggling and with frank eyes wondering. All the sounds of spring, the one that catches my attention the most it its’ silence brought by the warm sun. It could be just that the heat makes you lazy and thus this relaxed feeling is just a calming sensation of indulgence. Not sure… All I know is that summer is in my liking and writing about it gives me pleasure. 

Poem "Where!"

The spring morning was a whispering sun, blossoming from it's rusty night.
While trees sound alive in the melt of sleep.
Out of the wood... a child listened, as did an owl.
Who above this shiver stream freeze...creak at green leaf, petal.
Dream rise! As life is happy early, in flower only.
Bloom... summer, autumn, harvest, snow winter, Howl! Fall...so will laughter come full after death?
You investigate, a small light trickles.
Grass, THUNDER, plant, "There!"... garden, dandelion weed, insect, mushroom, Birch, cicada. They...are here.