It Took Time: wresting with rhyme and rhythm patterns. I can do 'em okay but still "paraphernalia" is a stretch and a favorite. I may write more. We need laughter. ~A~
Simply Stated : .
An anywhere walk. What women want! The big wins, the breathtaking achievements cause different joys. Simple joys are glue, sealing a simple declaration of life-long love.
.
A Valentine poem.
.
~A~.
Fragility: .
Reminds of the heat range we must retain around us to live. Pressure is another range, like blood sugar and oxygen levels. Control those and matter falls in lock-step beside mind conditioning. We all do what nature demands, humans know power lies in owning access to nature. (Did Putin miscalc?) I referenced Beckett earlier today; faith, the only thing that over-answers everything, even imminent death, even the self-preserving instinct to run. Can't argue it, best to acknowledge and relegate the greatest questions to something writers embrace: imagination. I pray to the universe, humans play it tight to earth and lifeforms on it. Why so limited? Religion is a stairway to belief and ultimately understanding. Imagine a world where faith was banned and religion firbidden. Unholy wars would outnumber the Crusades, dwarf Genghis's billion, and be responsible for every lifeform that ever died on Sol's third born. I like a good story. If good enough, and accompanied by a pyramid, the writer will be remembered long. Heard any good Ramses or Isis jokes lately? (The other Isis):D
.
Live long and in health prosper!
.
Lady A
.
Thank You: .
I love the smell of optimism in the morning. Like a sun almost completing its horizon vault, a glow. Up from sleep to encounter a dream. You rock!
~A~
"Before the descent...": .
Nourishment rides from the decay
of the past, old varigated leaves
tumble and crumbling leaves
wither beneath winter. .
A green fire tip, another. Iris fur.
Anticipated, a miniature rising
from rubbled gold-beige gardens. Gone into green, into bloom
observed, often vased as still life.
.
Lady A
.
wither
I'm beyond gratified to read: I'm beyond gratified to read this astronomical wonder and deeply humbled that you dedicated such a treasure to me. I'll tell you honestly, that even if I wasn't attached to it in any way, I would be spellbound by this poem of the highest order with its vastness of thought, its profound significance to "our stellar souls" and its deep dive into realms most poets never dare to go.
Now here's something strange: I'm getting ready to post a new poem and, as always, I'm hung up on one or two words, but when I do post it you'll notice a similarity between a concept I tried (all I can do is try) to tackle and the eleventh line of your poem. I assure you this was entirely coincidental.
Thank you again and again for a gift that will be remembered through this life and, most likely, into the next. May God bring you every blessing.