Breakfast

When I face

These pancakes,

Eyes search

For ways to

Dream.

 

Sanctity in

Whipped topping,

Butter running off

In divergent rivers.

 

Swirling eddies

Feeding heat,

Slumber awaiting

Questing organs.

 

Your surprise at

What feeling

Hits you,

Quieted of the

Mechanical noise

Computers drive into

Your static skull…

 

 

My Romantic Poetry

A Thing Of Beauty

 

She is a thing of

Beauty,

Softened grains,

Pearl clamped

In a scaled shell.

 

Poet’s muse is

Her only.

 

Tightly wound

A glimmering thorn.

 

Envy’s follicles

Never escaping

Perfection.

 

Mirror drop of

Soft petal sheath,

In awe of

Grace as she is

This.

 

Sweet surrender

Of rains,

Heaven’s gaze adrift

And never in search

Of Envy.

 

Peeking out at serenity

Streaming in,

So delicate,

A rare particle,

As soft as a maiden’s gaze

On her lover.

 

Sweet, never too succulent,

Always closing in

On Beauty.