Wither, or: Whither?

An Alouette You might nurture this, Though some would dismiss It: "Unworthy, consuming Sustenance needed By sundry seeded..." That are already blooming. Come, please water it, Give it just a bit Of attention and support. Should this come to wilt, Imagine the guilt... The dry, withered words of dirt. The Alouette This form was created… Continue reading Wither, or: Whither?

Yours, mine, or: Divine?

An Alouette Can you feel the love Tonight, high above These starlit skies? It is mine And yours, ours both, for It's our shared growth, or Perhaps it's fierce force (divine?)... Who knows? Not I. Do You? I once wooed you; Now, together, one and two, Thus entwined, we pull At each other, full Of… Continue reading Yours, mine, or: Divine?

Who, or: Where

An Alouette Weighing sensation's Sheer desperation At lack of other poets, For expressive minds To serve as remind- ers candor not to omit. Deep pangs of mute heart Play merely one part In yearning for words that speak Worlds, while dolent soul Feels itself quite whol- Ly: adrift, self, hollow, bleak. The Alouette This form… Continue reading Who, or: Where

Whether, or: Weather

An Alouette Jerusalem winds Know our outs and ins, Blowing through sukkot* and souls. Booths fall on their sides; They've nowhere to hide... Signs of our lack of control. We hope it won't rain, Though summer has waned; May waters fall, but... not yet. Outside's cool and crisp; Stars glimmer like wisps; Lovely - but… Continue reading Whether, or: Weather

Be for, or: Before

My 2nd Alouette Oft, I underrate My own some-day fate... Feeling I'm here for my child, Hoping to bequeath Firm blade for her sheath, Of many insights compiled. I'm mostly of thoughts And abandoned soughts, Verses my greatest pleasure. I pen ever more, Hoping that before End, she's sure of her measure. The Alouette This… Continue reading Be for, or: Before

Forth, or: Grounded

My 1st Alouette Writing on and on, Calling for black swan, Which shall soar forth from down(ed) soul, Bearing long-lost words. That rarest of birds... Without which, I can't be whole. I'm... sure it is true... Should I continue, Free, winged truth shall arise. Oh, desperately, I will this to be, Ere rising into the… Continue reading Forth, or: Grounded