Behavior

The sparkle in a drop more precious than a diamond – a glisten of silver If I could but read the words therein The emotion in the shine – A thousand words would not convey the sadness There I saw No word of mine would bring solace to a saddened heart So I in spirit reached out to soothe a wounded soul And in sympathy shed a tear too to enjoin and express those things no tongue can convey nor lip utter more eloquently

Sometimes there’™s a desire to leap to try at things as yet untried With untried wings to reach to places exciting, wondrous, challenging. To do that which seems impossible – that only imagination can conceive in their secreted place of hiding To speak of things that live deep inside And do not bear the stuff of sensibility – Incredulity – the stuff of youth’™s imaginings For with one’™s rationality comes often fear that leads to doubt and from the heights’ one looks down to say It’™s foolhardy – the thought of fools born of stupidity such a leap into a void And with a sigh folds the wings that might have, incredibly Reached to wondrous heights -‘  to infinity. One sighs …

Some people talk at the drop of a pin And some people’™s talk can wear you thin Some talk ‘˜til you throw a fit As if their breathing depends on it But the’  worst, I think are those constant larks That always talk in question marks For through most of talking one can dose With open eyes and intelligent pose But what is one supposed to do ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  When questions are constantly put to you?

Slender ship so blue on waters calming Silken sail – so white in whitened moon Sail silently into the darkened night. While slumber comes so deep So softly creeping Greet for me the star- bejewelled sky. Arms hold me gently firm – I hear a song Those blessings come with gossamer’™s gentle touch The voice sings on wondrous melodies While I into gentle sleep do sink To dream a dream – A goldfish in the purest mountain stream

The time has come to stop to weep To wake up from this heavy sleep From this nightmare that was no dream But reality’s truth and bloodied scream The time has come to start again And leave behind this awful pain Look to the light that’s in the East To hope that he who turned to peace Has opened a gate that’ll never close Upon a road lined by the rose A road to joy not bloody scream A road as befits a child’s dream So wake and take my hand and walk See the future – come let’s talk He gave his life so a child may live ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  There was no greater gift to give

The poetry of silence – words unspoken breaths of morning in oakened mountains whispering Fresh drops falling from silent leaves The poetry of silence of morning mist caressing oakened valleys in a sun-kissed dawn. And I, in canopied depths alone in’  darkened silence in fresh intoxicating beauty surrounded by this magic of overpowering majesty this dewy dampness its breathing in and breathing out this breath of life ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  this silent poetry.

Perhaps the dearest things are those ‘ ‘ we never can fulfil, The dreams that in their wrappings lie ‘ ‘ unopened – ever still Surely the nicest gift ‘ ‘ lies still unopened in its box? A jewel is it?’  A flower? ‘ ‘ perhaps a doll with golden locks? Perhaps the hopes we dare to hope ‘ ‘ that in our memories lie Are all the purer for that ‘ ‘ we never could them try Our minds are numbed sometimes ‘ ‘ that the dearest cannot be But remain as stars in a dark deep sky ‘ ‘ or jewel’s glint in the sea.

Paddy cat sleeps in curled peace his repose deep in silent calm If I could but know the dream he dreams . . . Is he soft-padding over dewy grass his nose leading toward an unsuspecting mouse trusting the dark, still night While Paddy’™s soft paws fall soundless on the bending blade? Or does he dream of a titbit dropped from my plate A thing I was not want to do and seldom gave? Nor shall I ever know just what he dreamt ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Nor why his whisker twitched in quiet content.

I’™m a bird that knows not flight is something humans envy But casually, swiftly through some great, iridescent sky moves. There, with sure uplifting wing to sing a song to touch a soul – ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  a precious, sensuous thing.

On’  wings of wind my spirit flies Sans wind, distressed, it droops and sighs Where’™s the soul with lighted eyes To take delight and share? You’™re the wind beneath my wing Sans you I have no song to sing No sun, no colour no gladdening ‘˜tis not that you don’™t care ‘ The rose you left its petals fall Each a memory to recall Of colour and sound and water’™s fall Its sad now you’™re not here ‘ But memory, too, is bright and strong And brings me back our happy song I know for sure it can’™t be long ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  and you’™ll be near once more