Repeat Love

a Rainbow Bucket List
a Rainbow Bucket List

In a lifetime of love like snowflakes…none being the same.  Somethings are worth repeating.

 

i carry your heart with me
i carry it in
my heart
i am never without it
anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling.
 
 i fear no fate
for you are my fate,my sweet
i want
no world
for beautiful you are my world,my true
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
 
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;
which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
Knowles Chilled
 

♥♥♥

I  CARRY YOUR HEART

I CARRY IT IN MY HEART

 

##I Carry Your Heart – EE Cummings

the Thunder

thunder comes up over the hollow and lays down in the street

circles my yard and peaks at my feet

I try to wake my loved one to make her aware

then I realize that beside me she lays…rumpled here and there

to stay at home or not

no matter… the thunder rounds herself up

she will always be near

the Northern Wallflower

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The day after yesterday…

the lilacs were gone.

Then the iris.

One by one, they were, also,  all departed.

All, but the northern wallflowers…that is.

Never do the gods account for the ever so green…up on the ridge.

This is where the grassy knolls have always replenished me.

I come here daily to see what it is you see.

No, you are not just a simple plot of trees.

What has been, seen daily, yearly, at your limbs hand?

The growth so measurable…

Yet, your roots have begun a different kind of land.

 ∞

In deepest sincerity,

my strength has atrophied.

But my vigor…as I watch your vastness…

I admit…is thought of differently.

In freshened mind, as you have portrayed…

I cannot walk this walk…only to return to my cave.

Though in beckoning winds I may…become altered.

A small resolution should not be what I am after.

 ∞

Came fall, ever green will turn to rust.

Came winter, your poignancy will become a changeling, yet, robust.

Sheltering all who follow you.

Giving the time to renew.

 

 

 

 

Minister’s Daughter

Rare…

But there is possibility in limited reflection.

Burdens on the verge of fevered detention.

Shallow screams.

And,

spirits going bump in the night.

Occasional,  end trails in sight.

 

Beautiful impostors flare up.

Along the line of pretense.

And,

open a mythical gate.

 

Yet,

well wishing has been down this road more than once.

Walking in ill-fitting glass slippers.

Stepping into the abyss for a promise of more.

A minister’s daughter…

Who cannot find an open door.

 

Panicked to be Free

I stagger around in my thoughts…as if an open book

as if a locked attic with no key and skeletons that wish to be free

My panic sets in whether day or night

In small snippets I remember the daffodils, the farmland, the rebirth, the light

In small, form fit spaces…this is where the head and the heart fight

I assume nature is alarmed, possibly having already panicked years before

Perhaps, the reason for a locked attic door