Seasonal Story:

You are my seasonal story-

a fresh delightful Spring chapter, turning

each blossoming page with enlightenment

from flowering vibrant hues-

a sizzling Summer stanza, radiating

heat that pierces

through my frosted heart-

your warm intoxicating essence

entices me to Fall

for your delectable spicy fable-

though your seemingly refined worn

dust jacket appears to be the perfect cover,

you are unfortunately incapable

of becoming a part of my manuscript,

for I am Winter

and your seasonal stimulation will

eventually deliver impending cessation,

inevitably melting my frozen

novel into bleeding icy pools

of submerged lifeless empty pages.

So, When They Ask How It Felt:

Live the reflective moments, by tasting each delicious prismatic color,

if an intriguing palette captivates you, always steal the first savory kiss,

when your brush happens to dip into obscurity, remember to lighten the shade

with your confetti of radiant hues,

and if you feel their easel is tattered and weak,

lend strength to support their beloved portrait,

so, when they ask how it felt:

say, I was born with a blank canvas, and I painted it my way,

infusing kaleidoscopic shapes with a diversity of shades,

ultimately creating my own expressive style,

at times some edges became coarse and darker with intensity,

eventually smudging and fading into muted shades of grey,

but my painting is a priceless original and I would not

change one vibrant brushstroke.

Tonight, I Saw You:

Drowning in a daily martini glass,

green olives barely keeping me afloat,

diving and drenching my tortured consciousness deep

into my remote uncharted memories.

You were my kindred spirit, a soulmate

of perfection wrapped in crimson silk

and bubbling with Moët,

why did the storm steal you away that treacherous night?

Staring into the pinhole eye of my hurricane,

barren nothingness surrounded by screaming bands of chaos,

I submerge my lucid reality in whiskey nights,

my soul haunted as the pages of a Dickens novel.

Paddling through lost pages that have long drifted away,

my ghostly chapters cascade into oceans of salted tears--

I have worn your ring as my golden life preserver, but

I can no longer keep afloat without you,

for you have always been my air.

Tonight, I saw you,

drifting toward me amidst my storms

swaying in bubbles and crimson silk--

and I finally stopped swimming.

Our future should have made history.

Warrior’s Thread:

The day your dust danced with the wind.

I followed a crimson thread,

bleeding its way to an undetected underground

river of consciousness.

 Multicolored tears descend

like nuclear fallout,

piercing my mirrored reflection of battle scars

that only a shield-maiden could perceive.

 Inner cords of strength emerge

from the terminus far beneath

the head of my frozen glacier,

the mirror revealing my long-

lost battle shield.

 Realizing--

I am my own beacon,

I guard my wounded heart with sword and shield,

I am solid and sturdy within my frigid crevasses.

 No one can hold God’s needle

to stitch a broken heart,

I have bled and sewn my own threads of crimson,

resurrecting from the flames as the sacred Phoenix,

soaring high above

your dancing dust of ashen memories.

Deck of Cards:

Translucent threads drift between

life and death-

heaven and hell-

black and white-

one symbolizing absolute lightness,

the other unadulterated darkness.

Tranquil alabaster doves perch as celestial saints,

while ebony ravens plunge in decent like bloodthirsty demons,

our disciplined minds envision diversity,

but are they so different?

Do they not both bleed the same shade of crimson?

Life’s precious integrated deck of cards,

a Black Spade alongside Queen of Hearts,

52 diverse cards intimately compressed  

and collected into one undivided deck of harmonious unity.

Wrinkles in time endlessly curve,

intertwining the translucent lines,

weaving and creating a new diverse

multicolored deck of cards-

life ultimately changing the hand that is dealt.

Black silken ravens flying free

in unison with the fair white dove,

each showing no inner differences or diversities,

simply playing and mirroring their respective card.

Razzle Dazzle Of Broadway:

 The overture emanates throughout the grand age-old auditorium,

anticipation escalating within each familiar, perfectly orchestrated tune.

Silent whispers and flipping Playbills echo

in a gallery of balconies overlooking a timeworn

theatre stage of someone’s dream-come-true,

wishing break-a-leg to each performer as token of good luck—

the lights go down and the curtain goes up.

Broadway’s dazzling neon lights dominate Manhattans spotlight,

soloing out and upstaging The Big Apple’s eclectic symphonic streets,

the show must go on to never disappoint, always securing an encore of ovations.

After the final bow, the curtain goes down for another dark night,

until the overture emanates once more in the limelight

throughout the grand age-old auditorium of dreams.

I am:

 I am standing forsaken at the precipice, clenching heartrending hope in my soul,

whether to take the plunge and plummet further into your tumultuous

heart, swimming circles around each pulsating beat without a

life preserver, paddling fiercely for fear of drowning

suffocation barely keeping my head afloat-

or simply take one

confident step back

and say,

Goodbye--

Moments of Light:

 I close my eyes, soaking in

warm rays of unfiltered sunshine, reflecting

all my yesterdays that will never return-

light pierces through my closed

lids feeling all its power in

this single moment that will soon be

another yesterday-

nobody is guaranteed a tomorrow,

for time eventually takes us all-

I will become one with today’s shining

moment and make my future

unforgettable yesterdays.

Roads at 90:

Misted memories of rolling hills quilted

with emerald clover drenched of petrichor,
hugging and twisting down endless

winding roads at 90, wrapping the countryside

like a beautiful Christmas present,
hints of aged Irish whiskey fancy my tongue

while traditional whimsical

music keeps me laughing and dancing until dawn-
I left my heart in Ireland.

Carnival Of Nightmares:

 Guiding me through a whimsical masquerade of carnival nightmares,

my malevolent ringmaster haunts my surrealistic dreamscape,

commanding me to endure a never-ending carousel ride of torture.

Free-falling from a translucent tightrope wire, I plunge deep

into a carnal pool of illusions drenching my lucidity,

drowning in whispers of mischievous laughter echoing down every mirrored corridor

like sinister clowns haunting a decrepit abandoned fun house.

Juggling with reality, I swing steadfast into unconsciousness on a flying trapeze,

trying to outrun daylight, yearning for my macabre phantom ringmaster

to conduct an encore performance within the depths of my carnival of dreams.

Dragonfly Wallpaper:

 Tiptoeing quietly into familiar darkness,

infinite galaxies illuminate

multicolored dragonfly wallpaper,

I steal a kiss upon a golden lock of silk,

inhaling euphoric intoxication

that I thought only existed in dreams and wishes.

Silent as the wings of an owl, I listen,

beholden to the alluring harmony

of the tranquil steady rhythm,

I gaze in wonderment upon a mirrored reflection,

a new life resembling a coalescence of

decades long passed.

Life created within my darkness,

I drop to my knees

drenched in unconditional love,

you will always be a piece of me to carry on,

I thank you, my little dragonfly, for finding me.

My Hurricane:

Grief has taught me to be compassionate,

even during my innermost unlighted moments,

installing empathy with delivering unborn cries of silence,

knowing I am not the only one-

installing sympathy with saying my final goodbye,

knowing I am not the only one-

installing endless hope,

succumbing to surprisingly new depression,

I know I am not in this alone-

because even in my darkest depths of suffocation, I sense

a shimmering beacon will always be offered

to my murky ocean floor,

all I must do, is find the strength

to float amongst the crest of my surging surface,

wipe off the sand, breathe deeply,

and realize that you--

will always live,

within the eye of my hurricane.