A Happy Birthday To The Golden Goddess. Maybe she will send one more of her thousand smiles my way.
Before meeting with the Golden Goddess The Poet didn't see in Nature as she saw Meanings for life mainly because meanings He was told as he grew up were book based. Finding meanings as though Nature's speaking The Poet finds poets saying the old poets wrong And science is right man not Nature speaks Of things with meaning for man and his life. There's no thought in Nature that cares for man Say other poets and shows nothing Divine, nothing of the Maker at all But readers of the Poet show great interest In the voice of Nature and what she says.
Small spark of night not so small are you then, How little darkness you light yet you're seen; You visit me, you visit her quite often With faulty switch here but there you are keen And Nature loves showing her you dark nights; Oh same spark telling fault, telling beauty Made more by lack of light climb greater heights In our eyes and travel so our hearts see The spark of love that has grown to consume Us both with bushfires here, controlled fire there. Oh spark set her dress on fire this full moon And I'll embrace her so both hearts burn bare. Small spark of night make all the darkness die And uncontrolled make faultiness a lie.
How dull a life for those a spark is just a spark. Tiny lights in Nature have triggered thoughts in mankind before written language. That a tiny light appears on purpose - that it, not the mind only can be a mover is a step if denied rapes the human species of a human-liked step.
Why does the rough wind blow if not to dust The plants of the world? - a most loving act; More like our sweet mother than our father And why does dust fall and settle if not For some great purpose whereby love can be Shown such a simple and wonderful way - Flicks of the pretty wrist yet overlooked As major in our lives as so much is. If the rough wind outside never blew again Men would make up myths of times gone by Telling of a more loving era When thousands of things showed love, disguised by love To find the thoughtful man who deserved most The thousand and one ways his Lady loved him.
When I hear the owl, nature says all's well, Speech millions miss - the secret's kept secret And thought control comes from those things that dwell Where dwells the turtle, low and little set Who will not attempt to fly as men loved. Men told they're loved bend their desires upwards, Cannot be bribed to be sad nor that way shoved; They hear the owl and speak like ancient Bards With powerful impulse - walk past stepping stones - One foot too short gives Byron's fame their mind. When sad dare I consult myself with moans? No! my love - listen for the owl who's kind, Watch the turtle swim confined and thoughts fly. If you came by and kissed me I would die.
While loving more some love less as faults found For love thrives best not blind but with closed eyes To those things that steal beauty's growing ground; And walking through the park, bark off trees dies Yet we therefore don't visit less often. Why does love all around us fade with time? It's meant to, it's meant to go again? Yes love goes unless our love's so sublime We close our eyes to falling bark in parks And asked why our eyes are closed in love lie To say that this hour and that eyes closed marks Dust in our eyes, never say love nor sigh. The wise owl did wink when I had these thoughts As bark missed my head - and denied in courts.
Without flesh passion dies says Earth thought poor, Poor, because wealth's wasted where love's concerned And missing much that's praps heaven or more - Foolish where vast lands lie foolishly spurned; Promise long way off empowers man's poor thoughts From desert to flowering fields - praise deserts! There must be such deserts in heaven's courts, Deserts where lovers dance and sing though hurts, Running towards the flowers, foot-sore smiling. Would Heaven ban love's pleasures with wisdom - Limit the limitless Maker's planning? I wait pleasured - where's the pleasure come from? All 'round me men cry out they are lonely, Where your love makes desert cries pure poetry!
'Love me no more than now' whispered Poet-Heart Who like the River God in beard and hair Was silver tongued from love; was bold not daft. She laughed with river lights on breasts half bare. 'If you love me as little now, not more!' The river swept down to the sea with woe For ducks and frogs and fish she heard and saw And never misread lovers before as foe. The River God's wind blew flowers from her hair Into the river weeping down to the sea And Poet-Heart lept in to retrieve with flair Showing river how little love can be. 'Love me no more than now' Poet-Heart whispered Who much laughed when his sweet love's answer heard.
We small talked together two hours or more (Our body talk was large) lounging around. Yes words in second place to lips did bore And words compared to breathing's moving sound That took on trips to voiceless hills of sand Seemed words which the wind wisely blew away. You catch me watching toes when words are bland And eyes then rise to lips then eyes that play But this wise wizard wiser than most men Casts spells to enable every word heard And drops hints that he's heard, as ears open To pearls of poetry - heart keys every word. A hello, my name, any word's music Yet to hear with eyes closed I need magic.
Know that our hearts will leap on desert sand Where first we met to part again too soon For two winds warring never, need warm land Or lonely sink un-united - death's tune. We could've survived all ills - we still can Where fountains of our feelings side by side Have pearled spray for passing lovers hand in hand; Their naked heads would know no sorrow cried. Yet now two deserts where two low winds blow Gain strength as our vote of love we cast And put our trust in winds apart that show A giddy dance and hollow chance love's past, Since childhood dreams rode twin winds desert warmed - Had heard and understood before time dawned.
Join the Golden Goddess and the Poet Dressed as the White Wizard in the Garden Walking the river banks in the evening Taking his wolf along, talking of love; Sitting some time on the lawns then sprawling, Watching the stars as we did in her land - Blue shooting stars there though white over here; Looking for meaning as the sky reveals Sights seen by mankind centuries before Knowing the Maker of All speaks to us Through flesh of our bodies wondrously made, The vibrator of love thoughts from mind's throne Moving poetry's lips so listening we hear. Join us in the Garden, love's in the air.
You are mountain bound and the plain grounds me Yet we commune with mirrors sun flashing That speak spirit and things that are earthly Not of silent loveless people dieing For our sweet love thoughts sweep rapid and thick. This tongue is not unknown to those who live Where two worlds of life and death worry sick Those without love and its sad passing grieve. The moon like a mirror shines sunlight to earth - Lovers looking up feel togetherness more Though we make the moon wink for all its worth, Make the moon dance, say how much we adore And with such power flatten mountains tomorrow - Make uneven the plain so love's sorrows go.
This old guy thumbed through the book in his hands; Admired the pictures of youthful love's zest And read how one man through courting expands His world, his love of life, to give his best. He was waiting to die, the next life live And lifted his bowed head and some things said To ladies chaired near him who bright smiles give And shallow breaths deepened, they shun their bed. He passed the book and the pages they thumbed Winking, the youthful love stirring flirting And spoke of old times and one lady hummed. The old guy held up the book eyes skirting For signs of new times of zest for love new And said 'I'll read and dance all night with you!'
The zest for life is the greatest gift you can give your partner. Read 'Two Hearts Two Cities' for zest is catching. Order through Zora Knight the illustrator firstname.lastname@example.org