Leisure

 One evening
a cup of tea
sitting idly
listening to some music
espying silent reverie
thinking
some people
some things.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Condor hero

 Precious sword of cyan bronze the power of which unmatched as poems of mythology always tend they never tell you the final answer like the five greats he suffered from east to west he ran and searched through battles and ambushes they keep coming up but the eventual green spirit and heart disappeared like the dearly departed a return to mundane ashes and dust only despair surges to the surface the answer is actually simple it is in the midst of his throes first, the swordplay of Jade Maiden second, the toad skill and serpent staff  third, the dog beating staff technique fourth, the time flicking skill fifth, the melancholic palm  one of the five is a riddle waiting to be solved as is the world  waiting to be saved evil waiting to be destroyed the countdown to the choice  is on the godly condor splits the peak the earth turns to peace the secluded rainbow of romance will streak  across the clarity of the victory.
Read more

Flying fingers

Lying on the open ground eyes closed  heart calmed down such a warm morning bath soft sunshine stroking my hair touching my face my body my heart i am not angry matter of fact i am on cloud nine why? simply because i love it love the glory love the temperature love the light that illuminates my flying fingers.
Read more

Art of silence

Solid sugar cube dissolving in the cup waking up feeling the weight of the dark untold fireflies and fallen leaves furtively building up an oil painting in this rainy night charmed cats are drawn to the hearth there is a ring from the depth of some ramparts emitting a glow pointing somewhere which is not typical of diamonds there is always a rainbow where the wild herons rest if forgiveness is an ocean there would be waves around here through spring, summer fall and winter bare stones that covet the sun the moon and stars turn into mud when it ends when you can't see it hydrangea is actually shy pushing open the door of time snowflakes pour out and fill the ground bracken cleansed by the river once again faces the warm direction of sunshine exposing those moldy marks undaunted so no one would dare disturb the evolution no one will disturb the symphony but then everything else looks like the despondency of the linden tree lost without a word without a thought the love that germinate...
Read more