It is the beginning of a season of new life

Love, resurgent.

I stare out at the budding flower, the bees busy

Pollinating petunias and moving amongst magnolias

I feel the Sun burning against my skin

Creating a glow that hides the dark void

Where your love once was

Where laughter was sonar

Where my cries are now silent

In this season

I miss you.

a broken chandelier drips,

effervescence flows gold,

holding iridescent jewels,

kingdoms lost, mourned,

not of paupers questioning,

rather secrets told unto

vindictive whispers,

xeric yet zealous.

By Robert Stewart

Seasons

passing

Purposeful

Reasons

Winter sleeps,

Spring awakens

Summer lives,

Fall remembers

In the circle of the world

We pass it up

Through this changing,

The course of our fortunate misfortunes

From fear, comes courage.

From humility, Comes laughter.

From forgiveness, Comes love.

From passion, Comes purpose.

From faith. Comes peace.

From you, To me,

COMES TRUTH....

we were at the 7-Eleven,

doing our elven things

when we heard a little clink

coming from the sink

and so we rushed to the back

along with our minion pack

and there glowed red,

a button above our head

a buzzing sound could be heard

together we conferred

to look on

for the source of the sound

it led us outside

to the quiet midnight

and when we had aligned

we saw the big neon sign

and before our eyes

the 7-Eleven said its goodbyes

it got up on all fours and took a stroll

maybe looking for some place else to patrol

then after a while our vision got blurry

and so we turned around in a hurry

in hopes of passing acquaintances

but alas, we got silence

sneakers turn into heels

platonic turns into feels

morning's blue skies

turn into purple twilights

once loud houses

turn into quiet places

and light-hearted jokes

become dark, serious thoughts

and playground dates

become late night treats

and of all the things i wished for when I was younger

growing up was the deal breaker

but never did i think

that i'd lay down without a blink

of sleep, and wish for times

with childhood rhymes

There’s ice in your eyes,

where there’s fire in mine,

But darling, ice can burn-

The sad thing about our story,

is that we end in mortal doom,

For every moment we’re together,

Turns our hearts into a tomb.

You melt for me, and I burn for you,

both of us withering away.

But at dawn we stand, forgotten pain,

to live another day.

I love you with my soul,

rather than my heart of fragile strings.

even though I run from our clandestine affairs,

I find peace in what they bring.

I stood in a gossamer gown,

your eyes tracing the fires of my eyes,

and as you knelt upon your knee,

I whispered, “Do you think that is wise?”

You said, “Darling you can destroy me,

for I was only ever yours to break,

My hands were meant for yours,

as we cross the frozen lake.”

Even in the utter chaos,

The only peace high up in foreign spires,

Can only be found with you, so-

I’m stepping into our raging fires.

#fantasy #poetry #poems #challenge #love #prose #fire #ice

White people screaming “this is our home, we have a right to protest!”

Except you stole this land

and only like the speech that suits your supremacy

You can’t love America and hate Democracy

Try to stage a coup and topple its foundations

Fueled by hate and lies and Bud Heavy

Breaking windows and hoisting flags and spitting virus

won’t save your man or any soul you have left

Police give them the white glove treatment

Try to “de-escalate” and “talk”instead of their usual approach of

Shoot first, ask questions later

Because they only do that when your skin has more melanin

On the day a Black woman who once picked cotton in a past not so long ago

celebrates her son’s election to the Senate

Using a system designed to keep him out

Two worlds clashing

Their dissonance amplified for the world to hear

It sounds like we were the savages all along

I’m dying with the cowards

I’m dying with the heroes

and rapists

I’m dying with the barflies

and the sinners

I’m dying with you

we’re dying together

I’m dying with my dog

I’m dying with all the actors

and playwrights

I’m dying with the guitarists

and the painters

I’m dying with your people

my people

I’m dying with the cities and towns and countries

and skies

I’m dying with the warthog

and the Siamese fighting fish

I’m dying with the rivers and mountains

and music

I’m dying with everything natural

like I should

I’m dying with the flower, the pastry chef, the old men behind

the counters

I’m dying with millionaires and welfare getters

I’m dying with the children

and parks and playgrounds

I’m dying with famed athletes

I’m dying with animated voices from cartoons

I’m dying with designers and congress

I’m dying with science

and religion

I’m dying,

with

and without you.