Luvzbluez Poetry, Angels and Fairies

For my Mother
(In Loving Memory)

Mornings in our Garden
as my mother lifts the Soil

The smell of broken earth
and a sense of the past

Rise into the mist
like gauze around her

She plants the noise of birds
the movement of wind

So those she left may return and speak
in familiar words of all she's lost

I touch her moist face and and she turns to me
I lean into her arms

The sound of wings, and of voices
The figures of light and behind us the earth
like an open hand,

I LOVE YOU MOTHER

Beauty of Life

Today is a beautiful day!!!
The rays of light filtered
through the sentinels of trees this morning.

I sat by the creek and contemplated
I missed classes,
but somehow it didn't matter.

The serenity and beauty
of my feelings and
surroundings completely
captivated me.

I thought of you
I discovered you tucked
away in the shadows of the trees.

Then rediscovered you
on the smiles of the flowers
as the sun penetrated the petals.

In the rhythm of the leaves
falling upon the stream
in the freedom of the robin
as he flew searching as you do.

I am very happy to have
found you again
Now, you will never leave me,
for I will always find
you in the BEAUTY OF LIFE.

There is a flat way of seeing I know it well.
I live with it most of the day.
And there is a spiritual way of seeing
which comes to me suddenly,
and when it does, that day is rare.

With this new vision I can see
the innocence woven through all men and things
as though a shaft of light had fallen
across treasured objects in a forgotten closet.

And for a moment I live with this vision
and I and all things around me
are changed.

I associate this spirited way of seeing
causes with music and poetry with sunsets and seas,
with friends who are friends,
with love and now and then,
with a book or a passage within a book.

These things have at times inspired me
to this broader vision
but rarely have I been able to return
and use one of them to recapture it.

If I try the poem or song
will have lost it's magic
and I only receive an echo of my previous wonder.

Sometimes I doubt and sometimes I believe,
and I like not making myself believed,
when I am doubting and not making,
myself doubt when I am believing.

Surely neither God nor accident need my consent.

MY ATTIC

'tis not for you I shed my tears
but for that part of me
that always is alone
when my eyes dry
all those forgotten people
whom I loved
are put back on the dusty shelves
of memories
My attic that created tears
the door once more closed
until another time
where thoughts had died
leads up the stairs to tears
of things that passed me by
someday no more
will enter the cobweb filled room
where sorrow is the air I breath
and torment my only light.

Copyright July 2000 (luvzbluez)
First Book being published in September of 2000
The Falling Rain look for it in Bookstores near you.

They marched toward her
physical beauty
drowning out the beauty of her mind
her soul beat against the
door of her heart
waiting for those who
might open that door

Sex is the result of love
not the cause of love.

LAST NIGHT IT RAINED

Last night it rained.
I saw your faced through the clouded windows pane,
it seemed as if you were crying
but it was only the rain falling down the window.

I heard your laughter
but it was only the thunder repeating it self.

I though I heard you talking to me
but it was only the branches rubbing against the glass.

It's morning now the rain has stopped.

MY TEARS ARE SELF EXPRESSION

My tears are self expression
they come and go as freely as the wind
My tears are the joys and sorrows I hold deep inside,
they are the substance of my life.

My tears are for all the little children
who suffered through their childhoods.

My tears are for the childhood monsters
that are found in the closets,
under the bed,
and the tree branches on the windows.

My tears are for all the tears
I could not shed as a child.

My tears run freely now,
for their is no fear
of the hidden demons that haunt my mind.

My tears can now be shed freely
free of retaliation
free of bondage
free of pain
free as a bird.

My tears are my freedom to the demons
that have haunted my soul.

I know not why I cry
I don't know where the tears come from.
I cry now because I can.

Do not look upon my tears as sorrow
for my tears are my way of shedding unwanted demons.

The demons that talk to me in my mind
the demons that have haunted my soul.

The demons that I no longer care to have
for every tear that flows
another demon is gone from this tormented soul.

The tears from my eyes are cleansing my soul.
There are many more demons that need to be shed.
My eyes are the windows to my soul.

I long for the day to have a free soul.
A soul that is free from bondage.
The bondage of childhood demons,
of many unwanted demons.
Help me shed these demons so I can be free.
To be free of anger,
humility,
sorrows,
depression,
guiltiness,
shame,
anguish,
To be free to let my inner child out.

This is where my tears come from they come from my soul.

copyrighted January 2000 (luvzbluez)

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Thank you Robin for this beautiful award
12/25/1999



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