how words make one quiver
simple anticipation but more
culmination of events
inadvertent situational
all the same tiny steps
to to to a great big mystery
i can hardly wait
if i kept counting
should i count backwards or forwards
to pass the time
ten nine eight two
somewhere in counting
i lost my way
back to forms
ay ay ay bee ay ay bee
but that was never really me
it comes from the unaware
simple evolution cortex expanding
to word objects not real
but describing the real
and then beyond when words became
the description of events
or words described the arrangement of words
my knowledge is in no way encyclopedic
but i have seen those pages
the line art drawings of dodo birds
died young
dead when the world was just gaining feet
sea legs and an age of sails
then poof they were gone
dead
we realize their departure was in memory
we recorded it but a record is not the event
time should revolve
to see the coasts and landing
walk among birds
they had no fear
their future was not certain
that chance
to unset time
to make amends
who would say no
and yet while they died
dead to the memory of any age
any one can say
this is a dodo

---
dark as the night
while floating orbs danced along
the small horizon obscure
broken by the blocky outline
of a city that is at rest
long ago when the morning was fresh
so tall so tall and that was all
destination first arrival afterwards
how we are destined
travelers with tickets carried abroad
eminently stately attired
there in the night bright
scratching beneath the surface
moments in monuments
history on the sleeve and cuff
where shadows glide
so solid so solid
rotating around avenues
side streets afterthoughts
more real than real more here than here



---

this is my favorite.. very well written

---
well below the fountain
where crystal dreams cool
and a fevered brow restless stirs
this fever isn’t over anyhow
but the idleness of passion
building building

well below the fountain
i found a cool light
and refreshment plays
this fervor isn’t over anyhow
but the intensity of play
building building

well below the fountain
the soft breeze
and longing is complete
this favor i know
but becomes a sweet relief
building building
---

love this one -Nicole

you are an outstanding poet. -Nicole

very good and welcome to the site

---
---
never fade
the winters frost
with cold air on tips
the sleeping trees
the silhouette of their grandeur

never fade
for snow filled glen
the chill air then
was colder than the ice
there a tranquil silence hangs

never fade
while hushing buds
with vibrancy conspire
there spring air promises
a verdant lasting fire
---
---

Very nice...
Welcome!

---
---
good tidings
to a rose thief
all in the morning
where you sleep
and stolen petals fall
from arms and eyelids close
is this dream due
something that is most true
for a hushing whisper sighs
lest wakefulness touch your eyes
i wish slumber finds your rest
and all the night you are blessed
oh rose thief
where is sleep
---
---

very nice hun

---
abrupt beach
the grey smooth boulders
looming over quiet tide pools
new worlds
separate worlds
the rhythm of rising and falling
buoys perch
where the gulls change places
the air too is smooth
like all the edges warn off long ago
there is a time in this place
but it is separate
clocks hardly ever appear
left behind
left as useless baggage on a journey
for here is now
crystal clear
horizon open
gangway up
discovery
---

Geez, reading you makes me understand Audry II's need in the Little Shop of Horrors(poor Semore) or Lays Potato Chips, one is just never enough, ya gotta keep goin. Pure enjoyment!

---
could not the waters
flowing
wash me as i would be washed
memory taken
melting
oblivion waiting
for i have waited
tenderly
with vigor and touch
well sensitive then
the pulse of life
before the pure and timely
writhe
before oblivion
before memory
only the thought sensation
and cries when
the wonder can not be
but borne
carried the currents of time
matched to the lunar phase
the flicker of smile
eyes glad before weeping
a quiet soul keeping
very timely beat
what spheres celestial
bode well and good
find a perfect mood
the surrender of senses
carries away
---

Wow ... I look forward to reading more ...

Welcome to the site

Nice words, compelling and drifting and welcoming more, Welcome to JSH

---
the syllabus of
a lost art
the prefix missing
the blaring tone
click click the keys
a typing then
and words go missing
they were missing when
the vanishing
a silly trick
glass once hard
molten find
and string the colors
around this orb
and the furnace burns
all for the molten sand
while craft is near
so near at hand
and leave me now
with a knowing kiss
leave me now
while sweet smiles find
a dream of holding
a sublime bliss
---

beautiful