My River

My river runs to thee.
Blue sea, wilt thou welcome me?
My river awaits reply.
Oh! sea, look graciously.

I'll fetch thee brooks
from spotted nooks.
Say, sea,
Take me!

~© Emily Dickinson~

Stranger, I Now Ask

Would you..... if you didn't know me...

Would you step out into the darkness with me?
While the moon dances upon our skin just for us to see
Upon the stars we make a wish and promise not to tell
Of a feeling that grows deep and real but fast as well

Would you walk around like you were lost with me?
No one would bother us they would leave us be
Closer we get to each other, the touching of skin
The feeling that dwells begins to win

Would you sit and talk for hours with me?
My hand crawling to rest upon your knee
Listening we fall into a dream of bliss
And at that instant we lean in for the kiss

But you can’t do this for I am unknown
And the feelings that might come into play can’t be shown
I am a stranger to you as you are to me
But the contact we have could be the only needed key

So stranger, I now ask
The questions of would you, so we can both take off our masks

~© darkangeleyes57~

They Do Not Know

They who are near me do not know that
you are nearer to me than they are...

Those who speak to me do not know that
my heart is full with your unspoken words...

Those who crowd in my path do not
know that I am walking alone with you...

They who love me do not know
that their love brings you to my heart...

~© R. Tagore~

Time For Serenity, Anyone?

I like to live in the sound of water,
in the feel of the mountain air. A sharp
reminder hits me the world still is alive;
it stretches out there shivering toward its own
creation, and I'm part of it. Even my breathing
enters into this elaborate give-and-take,
this bowing to sun and moon, day or night,
winter, summer, storm, still this tranquil
chaos that seems to be going somewhere.
This wilderness with a great peacefulness in it.
This motionless turmoil, this everything dance.

~© William Stafford~

True Wisdom

The pessimist says the cup is half empty. The optimist says it's half full. The pragmatist says its liquid contents are at 50% capacity. The ironist says it's half full of air. The plumber says the cup must be leaking. George Carlin says the cup is too big. The Starbucks employee says it's so you have room for cream. The conspiracy theorist says aliens took the other half. The baseball player says his cup is definitely full. MacGuyver says he can build a powerful explosive with it. The psychoanalyst says the cup is your mother. The punk sitting next to you also says the cup is your mother. The romance novelist says the cup is a willing receptacle to the wild gushing torrents of pure passion from the hard chiseled urn. The zen master says "There is no cup. " Pamela Anderson says her cups are definately full. And me I say, "Waitress! Refill!"

~© Tatsuya Ishida Sinfest~