Cradle

My mind was drifting. I came upon her face emerging as from a vision of the depths of a vast ocean.

She was as beautiful the Sun.

She was as beautiful the Sun.

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The suns dying rays lengthened shadows that filled every gap in my mind.

So did I see her beauty. Her star filled eyes pierced my vision as a dream that was not.

Back, back, back I traveled to what was and truly is the beginning of the human persona.

These images, though graven, mark our past and are still carried today in many forms.
Dark reminders of our link with the future through our past.

Birthplace–though we are diverse, and of many cultures, languages, dialects, faiths and values.
We are all from the same bloodline. Therein lay the beauty of civilization.

We are all one, and from the first life–begins all.

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Pushing

life marks us all.

life demands all but asks for nothing.

life finds our glaring weaknesses and brings out our most hidden strengths;

life challenges us by the minute, tasks us on the hour, and grants us little or no reprieve by the day.

life gives us our own reasons for declaring we are here and staying, not for the moment to rise, burn brightly, then drop as rapidly back to earth as falling magma or volcanic rock, disappearing forever into Earth’s embrace.

life decides not that it is the way of we, a people, who have long entertained and pondered the eternal heavens;

life ordained that we were not granted the insight or mental abilities to say yes to the first word as we understand and thus consider done our march toward the eternal search for truth.

life provides – i see answers; yes. but they are not mine to accept as being one true way, but rather a series of truths to be constructed together, pondered, debated; then accepted.

life determines that it consists of knowledge, passion, curiosity, steadfastness, singleness of purpose, love, humor, wants, fear, anger, dread, peace, tact;

the list might continue unabated.

I Am Your Compact

She looked at me and smiled.

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Is it possible for a compact case

to fall in love?

I gazed at her total beauty.

“You look awesome, dear.” I could
feel her body heat as she drew me
near to her face. I longed to kiss
her soft red lips. Eyes closed now,
might I steal a tender — she rubs
her eye shadow as I gaze at her
hair and ears.

Still a kiss is a kiss.

She closes the lid and walks away
from the dresser. Darkness.

I have watched, as a youth, you
fumbled through your Mom’s purse until
like magic, precious grubby little
fingers seized me.

Mom’s treasured possession, again,
for the day – yours.

I’m excited, as I imagine our day
together. you – unlike your mom,
gratefully leave me open.

This allows me to view the world
outside, with the great sky, radiant
and so blue; sunshine so gallantly
yellow-white and true.

If I could escape forever into the
world beyond, who might choose me as
their betrothed, as near to face, as
any loved one;

I shudder to think of places I might
end, with mirror cracked, powder
gone – except for the edges; my
usefulness; is over I am quite done.

A sudden lurch frees me from my dismal
imaginative wade thru misery; my
usefulness far from over as my mistress
enjoys her beauty and finery.

Should this not be, as I see most
often curvaceous lips, turned into
playful puckers; as we prepare to jaunt
into the city – a place of excitement
and fun or for some, a place where we
intrigued the truckers.

I have heard, but not witnessed where
great Queens hold me in high regard,
as even the dollar store sells my kin.
I am again one in all who enjoys such
beauty; my rewards are measured in your
use of me to perform my duty.

Sights I often see, such marvels of
beauty, lips so beautiful and in
multitudes of colors, hues and stuff,
from sensuous gloss to stark black
semi-gloss cuties;

so much of what I am ensured success,
facing a world where some actually
gauge looks as a measure, should
release the old paradigm of how the
World measures beauty.

Only those of limited human scope
would allow a panel to exercise
judgments of a woman’s beauty – I know
where from her beauty begins from the
very moment when she dons the mantle
of womanhood, thus it is, and ever shall be.

Her swell of her face to where her
mouth – matters not if her lips are
thin or full, soft not firm, or whether
natural swell towards the smile, or the
right events must actuate upturned beauty.
This will generate the path to true beauty.

Pursed or slightly parted desirous in their
element, rain – moist, tender and soft;
snow – dry, mostly turned in and sheltered,
or possessing a gentle blue hue.

Dampened by pool, pond, lake or ocean you
face and mouth are works of serene beauty.

My task is to show you, and in turn help you
realize the honor of your true attractiveness
and the reality of what you may become,
or of who you are.

Captured Beauty: Hair

Captured Beauty: Hair

Trembling, cascades as fierce as
falling water as swiftly surging as
a roiling stream.

As straight, as woven together as
though by design brought forth by
agronomy;
as passionate a task lends its origin
to a higher harmony.

Still and elegant, regal as royalty.
Firm and demure with finely textured
curls, do in fact complete the dream.

Straight firm, relaxed or stiff, folded
as overlapping ingredients to build
an angel food cake. Softly softly.

Tiny spikes would make one hesitate
before planting face within those
deliciously treacherous spines,
break suddenly; mind shouts mistake.

Except these spines – spikes that look
harsh and frightening to the
touch are surprisingly tender and delicate
to the touch while emitting  a rich aroma
of shampoo, conditioner, or setting gels.

Perhaps worn haphazardly, without
attention being paid to the fashion
deities whom abound in magazines or
haunt the television airwaves – twenty
four seven by 365 as the market will bear.

Wonderfully askew, there is beauty
there too, to be tamed or lovingly
harnessed, losing self with in folds,
frill, waves or masses of tresses.

Falling beauty cascading upon chest
to envelope face with beauty and grace;
as finely textured hair like soft tiny
springs enjoyment do bring  like tiny
virgin forest each hair curl to its place.

Silky masses of strand upon strand
lie by its neighbor as molecule strings
one beside others; form chains of
unbroken desire.

Touching the cascades do suddenly
disappear and like a skydiver plunging
through clouds resistance seems,
but is not there.

Matted not, but upon tightly coiled
springs each when touched yields,
then like life tightens to resist.

Curls so small and delicate too, did
nature not create such wondrous
intricate details of beauty may my
hand enlist.

Touch tenderly, caress gently,
loosing my senses to absorb all
textures, all descriptors of hair.

Yielding such beauty, matters not if
hair is long or short – strands  or curls
a woman’s hair does not define her.

Bald is beautiful and in cases
necessary as a temporary
receipt paid for fighting to survive.

A standing ovation for all who have
entered that fight and fought to win;
whose baldness marks a new
beginning from velvet down, soft
buzz to crown fully or majestically
rise – hair can orchestrate or send
a message to all.

Hair is a part of a persons gift to
what is seen or desire to project to
viewers.

There she is again, pulls up to the
stop sign, braking causes her hair
to fall across her face – just like a
moment frozen in time; she is
beautiful and just as quickly tosses
it out of the way to safely proceed on
her way.

It matters not if by natures gift or
a persons skill is one blessed with
a head of bouncing beauty;
matters not if hair is there at all – it
is the persona of a woman that
makes her a cutie.

Poetry Thursday.

Cradle

My mind was drifting. I came upon her face emerging from the vision of the vast ocean. The suns dying rays lengthened shadows that filled every gap in my mind.

So did I see her beauty. Her star filled eyes pierced my vision as a dream that was not.

Back, back, back I travelled to what was and truly is the beginning of the human persona. These images though graven, mark our past and are still carried today in many forms; reminders of our link with the future through our past.

Birthplace; though we are diverse, and of many cultures, languages, dialects, faiths and values. We are all from the same bloodline. Therein lies the beauty of civilization.

We are all one, and from the first life; begins us all.