Pry Open A Word

Let it sit ethereally on the tongue.

Yield to the absolute idea of it.

Praise its glinting particulates.

Let its resonance pour out.

Applaud its consonance.

Rediscover its poignancy.

Breathe deep its spirit.

 Celebrate its liberty.

Archived Proofs

L  I  S  T  E  N  I  N  G…

With an incessant patience

nothing appears.

B  U  T    T  H  E  N    A    S  P  I  L  L…

. . . . .

A sweetness of colour

with traces of ablution

ignites a perfumed air.

Polished tones of inquisitiveness loosen

as a vision, teeming with virtuosity, inflects;

immaculate whites,

ripe wines, satiny yellows,

and generous weights of

forest green and black.

A    F  L  O  W  E  R

Its fragile tips lain open,

its palpable centre of identity exposed.

Another world commencing,

exquisitely coming into view,

in its own indigenous way.

. . . . .

It is what I yearn to paint,

pursuing the bold notes

of its petal-soft language.

Anchored To A Type Of Conclusion

Drawing attention toward the medium of itself –

a strand of tree protrudes from the muddied water.

Its reflection promenades in an elongated fashion

beneath everything uniformly exhibited up above.

A text blends with the adored imagery of thought,

hypothesizing on the timber's inevitable finality.

Yielding To Something Unseen

Unnaturally fast, the eyes scurry, like a mouse, across the surface of old barn boards and darkened windows too, until a gust of wind sends them sailing midst an airy sky. Without difficulty they drop ever-so-softly onto a magnificent pasture of green flecked in gold, white and pink. Surely it is not the fullness of the view that has drawn them in. It must have more to do with a curiosity of the mind in what is lacking, in what, over time, has been phased out. At will the imagination gracefully re-patterns one's thoughts, producing a swell of inspiration that gives rise to a voice that tries to speak of how the eyes, feeling liberated, foreglimpse a poem coloured in the heavy red and weathered silver that extends into the shadows of the barn whose blackened windows mirror the starkness of a depthless dark night, where quite possibly dreams arise, midst the invisible light.

A Sky Landscaped In Tones Of Sad

One's soul inwardly braids,

beyond it, the familiarity of sky,

so well lathered with shades of gray.

Clouds weep an effervescent rain,

flooding the dampened heart.

A flash of thunder rumbles,

effectively articulating everything

the soul is unable to say.