Christmastime in the suburbs
Hustle-bustle, dropping packages
Ripping wrapping, burning pie.

Tripping, hiding, sneaking
Speeding ticket on Christmas Eve
To find that last-minute gift.

But in the country
The world is wide
The snow unblemished
The stars aglow

I sit in the window seat
Staring at the moon
With the cat on my lap, and tea brewing
On a cozy Christmas Eve, in the country. 
Moonflowers blooming
Faerie voices echoing in the wind.
Stars twinkling
In the dark velvet far above.

Laughter resounding
The Midsummer Night's light mood.

A slight breeze,
A star-woven wind,
The Woodfolk, the Mystical
Gath'ring to invoke cheer

Merrily dancing
Marvelously twirling
Swirling, laughing
The Mystic of the Wood on Midsummer Nights






                                                              Sweeping round
                                                               Red cloak, soft velvet
                                                                Highborn, clearly
                                                                Proudly carries herself.

                                                                 A faint smile
                                                                 A freeing word
                                                                  Much power indeed.
                                                                        Abundant feasts
                                                                            Royal suppers
                                                                            Lavish banquets
                                                                           Improvident parties

                                                                                  Smiling all the while
                                                                                      Proud and high.

Life is much too short.

So slow down.
This fleeting moment
 Is but temporary.

Enjoy it all
 But keep in mind
 Life is like a clock

What happens when it runs out of time?

What happens when its time to wind?





I like this. It's kind of magical-sounding, if that's a word.  :-)

The indigo of the night sky
Filled with silver bells twinkling
The luminescent moon
Glows purple with the aura of mystic

The light falls upon me
I take it in, bathe in the light around me
Shining, ever-present, from above.



Lonely Fire. . .What is that, exactly?
  Lonely fire. Fire lost, vanished.

All my dreams and hopes,
blown away with the wind
And my flame, my passion,
Is gone.

All my tears are flowing
Naught can dry them
Because my passion, my flame,
Is gone.

Lonely Fire, Lonely Fire,
Come back to me.
Return, Return,
my passion, my flame.

Lonely Fire, Lonely Fire,
Drenched with rain and cold,
rendering sorrow and gloom,
and stealing my passion, my flame.

Lonely Fire, lost wand'ring,
Died under the gaze
Of the black, cruel cloud of Fate,
Ne'er to put my misery aside.

O! That dreadful day!
When cruelty had its way,
I watched my flame try to spark one last time,
I can never rejoice again.

Lonely Fire, Lonely Fire,
Come back to me.
Return, Return,
my passion, my flame.

Lonely Fire, Lonely Fire,
Drenched with rain and cold,
giving sorrow and gloom,
and stealing my passion, my flame.





Aaah.....Well, spring starts in four days, so it seems appropriate to write a poem about, (you guessed it!) Spring. So this is my take on it.
Hello! Hello!
Haven't you heard?
You HAVEN'T? No?
Why, sir! Spring is here, why haven't you learned?

For, to not notice all the freshness
You truly must be blind!
The rivers running, the green grass growing,
Sweet and intertwined.

The opening buds
Of flowers, e'er so new
The butterflies, wobbly and delicate,
trying to get at the dew.

Oh! And sir! I almost forgot
To tell you about the new leaves on the trees
With care and newness, they are wrought
Opening the folds, the green leaves, oh, they attract the bees.

The chirping birds, how they sing
 A new song, one of life,
Through the woods and valleys, the song does ring
All the animals, no longer living in strife

The cloudless days,
Though a chill wind,
Oh! Spring DOES have its way,
My opinion of you, sir, however will not bend.

So, I tell you, sir, if you'll excuse me,
you must be blind, to not see all this beauty.

This is so like, not me, but when I set the pen to the paper this is what came out. So. . . .enjoy, I guess.

I sat thoughtfully,
gazing out my window of memories
Seeing the evil, recalling the ugly
The time of frozen tears.

And then I remember
in the cold of that December
that good times would persist
I got out of my chair, wiped away my tears,
and started thinking of the best.

Haha. This is becoming, Your Daily Poem. Well, nothing more to say, so enjoy!

Me, facing the ocean.
Alone upon a rock I stand.
Inhaling the caressing air,
   I fade softly into Dreamland.


 The Lily Fields in the Spring
What joy to behold
The new scents, The breeze
How the ancient elms ring
With the sounds of their whispering
To one another.

I approach with so light a heart
Expecting to be greeted by
Something so amazing
So stark.

I receive.

Now, note that this isn't my favorite. I just like the part about the trees, whispering. When I was small I always thought that, as I passed through the woods, they were watching me. And whispering about me. I know, I know. I was a strange child. (Still am. Ha.)  Anyway, enjoy!