Set Your Heart Free
There were colorful rings
intricately woven into a pattern
that embraced love from long ago.
A wedding quilt sewn
in my favorite colors
like karma, waiting for me
to discover it among the hidden,
from another timespan.
Quilted by someone,
an artistic expression
clearly a gift from the heart.
Haunting images flutter
before my eyes about the artist.
Her delicate hand stitched
this colorful quilt that
shudders the winters dust
on a clothesline that sags.
The sharp tone of the knell rang
its tone echoed filling the silence
The quilt covered with
hollow tear stains lingering
behind like glass shards.
Her fragile spirit
clung desperately to the quilt
unprepared for heartache ahead.
I drew my hand back quickly,
startled by her melancholy memories.
Is she warning me or
reminding me how fragile
life can be? I know love
demands risk, maybe heartache
and life consumed by
fiery passion. Hesitantly,
I caress each intricate
ring stitched, feeling assured
love bands us together
and grows stronger in time
when we set our fears aside.
Sweet harmony … joy to the world
Dreams, one must have hope
that all flags can wave unfurled
and mankind can find a way to cope.
Sweet harmony… peace on earth
All violence is a thing of the past.
Religions are respected, each has worth
and ethnic differences are not harassed.
Sweet harmony…joy in our world
is very powerful.
Emotions run rampant.
destructive to self esteem
The Elfje is a simple little form of 11 words distributed in five lines, as follows:
Line 1 has one word which establishes the color or tone of the poem.
Line 2 contains two words which identify the subject of the poem.
Line 3 has three words which expand on the subject of the poem.
Line 4 contains four words which form a conclusion.
Line 5 is a one word punch line, as demonstrated in the following links:
Ode to John
©Lyn and Vic Crain
exercise in humor
How much time do you waste each day ridding wastes on the porcelain throne
Do you think about the years you’ve spent, or maybe how much you’ve grown?
For the guy this is a reading nook, a place of peace and quiet
For a gal, a quick call or text or maybe the Readers Digest.
At work it’s a place to escape annoying colleagues and of course the boss
It’s a place to decompress and consider your gain and the size of your loss.
At school you might use it to calm nerves before a test, to avoid a bully
Or someone you want to date who scares you, or something else so silly.
On trips you pick your gas stops where you think you might find one so clean
Or where you’ll be safe and not have to deal with boys so surly and mean.
If you have too much whiskey, it’s your sanctuary, a place to kneel and pray
Where no one can see you or hear the promises for the future that you say.
Indeed it is a magic thing, something that can be used for many ends.
Even kitties are now taught to use it, guess they don’t mind the smell it sends.
With the lid down it becomes a seat for a conversation with a shaver,
Or a place against which to brace while a thermometer checks your fever.
On aircraft there are other uses, you know of the Mile High Club?
But no noise lest the knock on the door, aye there’s the rub.
The man who invented this, I hear his name was Crapper.
No puns please, he deserves better, like a song from a famous rapper.
The child, the priest, the banker, the drunk all pay homage to it each day
Light and Darkness
(Έadrom agus dorchadas)
Once a very dark, dreary world
until the evil spell lifted.
Maybe the bad witch got stiffed
and hopefully, she really curled.Into the underworld far away
so we are blessed with light,
throughout All Saints day.
All the people will reunite,
happy they missed doomsday.
Wait, did you say ghostly rewrite?
The evil ugly witch must have whiffed
our plan before it came unfurled.
Oh, I feel her black magick swirl
The ghost might help us get uplifted.
Yikes, there must be some kind of a way
Hell knows no fury like a woman’s wrath
Even her black cat ran for the parkway.
Wait, let’s pause, did you do the math.
Let’s play her song, I’ll ask the dejay.
He thinks it is by someone named McGrath.
An bhfuil tu damhsa liom?
Irish translation: Would you like to dance? Thank you.
Irish translation for: Light and Darkness~ eadrom agus dorchadas
Pumpkin and the Blackbird
A pumpkin sat on the porch step
wishing he was in the garden.
Blackbird said I beg your pardon
Will I do, I am good for pep.My singing is quite hilarious.
I miss…. my pumpkin friends
Scarecrows says, I am gregarious.
I don’t know, I guess it depends
Our meeting is simply vicarious.
I suppose, we could pretend.
A scarecrow suddenly appears
chuckling at the silly sad song.
Oh, Where do you really belong
my little pumpkin, dry your tears.
Blackbird fly up in the sky
Hurry, before it gets to dark
Be sure to see what is nearby.
I’m sure it was not the park.
Blackbird, squawked his reply.
I’ve found his home, check mark.
La maison d’un homme est son château.
avec jolies citrouilles dans une rangée
A man’s home is his castle,
with pretty pumpkins in a row.
Form is La’Libertas
Moon ©Lyn Crain
The phases of the moon
inspire lovers and writers
grasping for magic
each seek to fulfill desires
inspired by legends to be
aroused or infused
by passion. Their actions flow
like ripples in time.
Phoenix ©Lyn Crain
Oh Lilac, your shroud of icy blue
will not hold me in this
despondent battle of owlish wills.
My icy resolve will shred, shatter…
your waxed heart’s polished gleam.
The heady reek of infidelity flashes
on a roller coaster of emotional warfare.
This seeping rage will only fade to sleep
If we fight for time, deny the passions
driving us in this lavender sea of grief.
Oh Lilac, embrace me with your septic aroma
smother me with your cloying sappiness.
Don’t let the stench of failure claim
us in this shroud of icy blue.
Face our imperfections head on,
Scream away the blues, reach for
the glittering diamonds in the sky.
Like I reached for you, my precious bud
when everything around me said flee.
I saw that fragile glimmer when you
let your un-waxed heart show
how lovely a Lilac could be.
My icy resolve will shred, shatter
this last shroud of blue surrounding you.
The Callery Pear
A pungent scent of semen assaults me
initially but then my curiosity elevates,
What an odd location for a sexual encounter.
My hawk eyes glance around before
I continue my morning stroll
along the stone pathway.
I love sunrises and spring mornings.
They are so peaceful and usually intoxicating.
Red and yellow tulip crowns open wide
radiant after another dew kissed evening.
Birds serenade all the sleepy ones just poking
their heads up, it’s time to rise and shine so
much work to do. Oh, that four letter word! It’s
enough to curdle the fresh cream waiting to
fill a steaming cup of joe when I get home.
One last lingering glance, the artistic display
strategically planted all those years ago.
Over coffee with my neighbor, I mention
the unusual aroma on my walk earlier.
She laughs and then shares an article on the
web about the Callery Pear, a very common tree.
I wonder if the landscaper knew when he planted
the trees what lasting impression they would make.
The gift that keeps on giving and giving until death.
feel so good.
I smile and laugh,
Lanturne is a five-line verse shaped like a Japanese lantern-syllabic pattern of 220.127.116.11.1