Models

Long black Tresses
Short blond Locks
Plump red Lips
Sleek red Dresses
Primped and Painted
Ruffles and Lace
Stylish and Sleek
Pose so Perfect
Fashion and Grace
No Identity
Just a Dress

Altered a little from what I wrote at Pictures Poetry & Prose. Before I wrote Walk, now Turn instead of Pose so Perfect...I like the pose better because it leaves it to be taken as it could be a display manican and maybe not a live model.

Let Love Be

(photo found via google)

Love

may seem to
Tie you down
At times it
holds you
to the ground
But
as you learn
to let love be
Up to the sky
It flies so free

"And Our Hearts, Like Thy Waters, Be Mingled in Peace"

Prompted by photo at [link]. Probably would add to it if you looked at the photo while reading.

Once upon a time there was a little girl who loved her grandmother very much. She lived alone with her in an an old run-down church at the edge of a lovely large lily pond.
The rains came almost daily and they would often walk around the sparkling water, watching the raindrops fall into the water and create little rings that would expand and expand until they finally met with something that broke their perfect shape. It was such a peaceful part of the day for her. Her grandmother would usually pick up one of the flowers along the way and fold it within her hair, telling her how beautiful she was and how much she looked like her mother.
Her parents had died of the influenza when she was very young. All that she now held from them was an old photograph, a tattered book of poetry, and her grandmother's memory.
Many times she would bring the book of poetry along on their walks together and her grandmother would choose one to read. Then they would discuss it and her grandmother would recall how much her father or mother had loved that piece.
As the little girl grew up, she felt that she knew her parents, although her physical memory of them had almost completely vanished.
The time came when her grandmother was too weak to continue their walks around the pond, so she would go alone, sit among the forest trees, and read the poems she loved so very much.
Until her grandmother passed away as well. It was a stormy day, almost too stormy to read one of her poems. But she did.
She went around to her favorite spot opposite their home, and with tears running softly down her cheeks and mixing with the raindrops, she felt at one with the water as she read:

"There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;
Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart,
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.

"Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green;
'Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill,
Oh! no, -- it was something more exquisite still.

"'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near,
Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear,
And who felt how the best charms of nature improve,
When we see them reflected from looks that we love.

"Sweet vale of Avoca! how calm could I rest
In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best,
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease,
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace."
-"The Meeting of Waters" by Thomas Moore

The Gray

Do this or Do that
Have that or Have this
Give this or Give that
Either that or Then it's this
Black and White

But some things aren't Black and White
Too many things remain Gray
Sometimes I wish there were more Black and White
Decisions can remain Obvious
However it Rarely is this way

I find my Black and White decisions come
Once in a Blue Moon
While the Gray envelopes all other things
Daily shadowing Life

But without the Gray, I believe,
Although there would be less Confusion,
There would be less Intelligence
Less potential in the Gradual Growth
of the Human Mind

This is why I've Learned
To Love the color Gray.

Whisps

Flight

Walking Along

My Child (Haiku)

The hopes and dreams I
Have for you, become my quest
To teach what I know

Natural Sugar

Pick it
Touch its rough textured surface
Smell its sweet aroma
Candy
Breaking it open
The sweet aroma surrounds you
The scent is beautiful
Drink it in
It consumes your soul
Bring it to your face
Touch it with your tongue
Bite into it with your teeth
The many tiny treasures burst within your mouth
Sweet, delicate, delicious
Savor it
Cherish its caress within your mouth
Candy
The sweet but sour delicacy
fills you with ecstasy
Bliss
Natural sugar
Sweet perfection

prompted by photo at [link]

Cold Branches

Rosecolored Sky

Paper and Pen

To convey a message without the words,
To expand one’s sight in a simple song,
To paint a picture with invisible color,
To release all worries without opening mouth,
To escape the world without leaving the room,
To release the pain with a sharp point,
To scream without making a single sound,
To weep in passion without the tears,
To share inner secrets without exposing,
To repair broken hearts with a wrinkled line,
To make dreams real through a stranger’s eyes,
To explain the essence of life,
To write a poem.

Little Boy Growing

Oh if I could keep you now
Forever innocent and small
Oh if I could keep those toes
So tiny, chubby, and sweet

If I could only hold you close
Throughout your whole life long
If I could keep you safe from harm
And keep the world so far

If you could stay a little child
Pure in thought, pure in action
That dimpled smile pasted on
Never to see such tears

But no, the child must grow so tall
And learn to become someone
And I must hold that precious hand
And lead them until they let go

I hope you remember how it was
To be that little child
And see the world a little brighter
So the future can be so

Winter Robin

The dew is frozen on my window
The frost is crusted along the walk
The lantern's glow above the snow
Is beckoning a happy thought

The robin lights upon the ground
A stroke of red upon his breast
I wonder how the frost must feel
His tiny toes are froze at best

He hops from here to there about
As if to break away the white
His happy dance is filled with glee
Perhaps there's more to his delight

The spring is near, he seems to say
As I wonder at his soft compose
The bite of winter's presence here
Is shown upon my reddening nose

And so I stand upon the step
Outside my wintered walls
Then enter within its warm embrace
And when I peak, the robin calls

"You'll see, you'll see
My human friend
The frost indeed
Is yet to end!"

(Photo by Highlander) [link]

Moon Rise

In the frosty daylight
the moon appears,
like a dusty shadow
faded into the blue.
Seems as though someone
pasted white tissue paper
onto a blue backdrop.
The imperfect circle
silently beckons to
the shadows of night
as the sunlight whispers
goodbye.

I wrote this prompted by a photograph posted at [link]
Beautiful photo taken by Jim Pankey.