Beauty

QUICKSILVER MOON

Quicksilver moon

You mean so much to me

Playing hide and seek

Tween the branches

Of the tree



You are the lead

In a star-studded cast

Shining brightest of them all

You're a stunner

To the last



So....



Where do you go

On your monthly nights away?

Do you hang out with the sun

Does he give you

Time to play?



And...



What do you do

When you come back into view?

Hope you're smiling down on me

While I'm looking

Up to you


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Inspired by that big beautiful moon in Spielberg's movie, "A.I."

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The Greatest Show on Earth.

Far removed from a three ring circus,

Billed as the greatest show on Earth!

Geared to making money!All captives,

The audience, participants, animals and humans.

They gasp, scream, clap at unnatural acts.

Now leave it all behind you, watch nature's show.



Lean on a gate, sit on a log, or grassy slope.

Keep still - listen - let nature engulf you!

Now observe, feel, be part of the scene.

First the lambs as they skip and run,

From tree stump to gate, and back again,

Not heeding the warning bleat of their mothers.



High in the sky nature's orchestra starts up,

The Skylark's song - so pure and sweet,

Contrast that to a Circus drum.

The birds in the hedges now join the chorus,

All singing their different tunes, yet harmonising.

Nature alone knows how to accomplish this.



Roll up! Roll up! To see this great show!

Do it quietly. not striking a discordant note.

No open mouth box office, to swallow your money,

This show is free for all to enjoy,

Taking place continously for all to join in!

This time , however, for just me - and my maker!

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Angels Eyes

My Baby's Eyes, So Deep & Green,

So Much Abuse & Pain Have Seen.

Her Eyes They Twinkle Like The Stars,

My Pretty Angel's Eyes Are Dar's.



I See The Sweetness In Her Eyes,

To Give All Of Herself She Tries.

I Gaze At Her And I'm On Mars,

My Pretty Angel's Eyes Are Dar's.



To Coin The Phrase Of Bedroom Eyes,

Was Wrote For Her, Their Gleam It Ties.

They're Bright Like Headlamps On New Cars,

My Pretty Angel's Eyes Are Dar's.



I Long To Stare At Them Again,

Their Wonderous Look Can Weaken Men.

They've Caged My Heart Between Locked Bars,

My Pretty Angel's Eyes Are Dar's.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This Is About The Most Special Person In My World. I Love You Precious.

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Early Hour Eulogy

Asking for the sky's hand

     I fly under red balloon upward

     Over the wreck of silent city devoured

     Calling home in quiet fascination



Your plastic face melts away

     Under the sleep of moon, walking swiftly

     Around discontented globes in spiral delight

     Making free discourse with sheltered owls



Caught in flash fire these shattered children

     Cry off into the day's night shivvering

     Toss their intelligence into the void

     Left behind in books and rabid cinema



Making life behind crystalized forgotten dreamlands

     Soft yourself into a hazy battlefield

     Demanding a chorus of supple hours you fly

     Under red balloon upward in the morning

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Midnight Rain Skin

Shoulder of midnight's

Soft passing quiet we wake

Arms of night 'round us



Find grasp of cradle

Smooth stars feel only small rough

Blink of predawn



Daydream's sunrises

Away in shining yellow

Burn'd day dew cover

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Beauty

Beauty is in the owner's eyes.

No one sees beauty the same way.

For some people, beauty stays the same;

for others, it changes over time.

But there is one thing--

beauty can never truly leave you

as long as someone loves you.


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A Placed Mistake

As it could have been said to me once by a friend,

That life at times "a folly" does send,

In caniption and frenzy of incomprehensible waste,

That only poised, in retrospect one is able to place,

A meaning or reason or no meaning at all,

As to how upon one this occurrence did fall,

And perhaps it was meant or merely just happened,

Maybe a grip was too tight or simply just slackened.

And to remember through the clamour and haste,

That this world with you still holds a place,

A place of peace, prosperity, promise and hope,

Through much misunderstanding allows us to cope,

That place does never lose its true path,

It be the vessel of strength of the pure heart.





© R.H.Elliott 2001


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Ah, golly gee, there are many things in this world that s..t me to tears, one of them me but at times there also be a great joy in it all.

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In My Music

Folder: 
The Arts

I lay alone in the disturbing obscurity of this bleak night,

Longing for any sweet sound that will disrupt the deep stifling silence,

That surrounds my solitary world washed only in dim candle light.



There must be some consolation from this pitiful, dark existence.

Before sanity falters, with the warm salt tears impeding my sight,

And then nothing in my eccentric world will make one damn bit of sense.



I reach out for the radio to find a suitable melody,

Notes of a long forgotten concerto and a dainty minuet,

Or the lyrical voice of a diva who will sing strong just to me.



The powers of some hot, hypnotic beat, the passionate words inset,

Some gentle strains, some tunes intense and some surging with great energy.

As the music wells, infusing my soul, the salt tears are all but wept.



I lay, alone, but, the music quells the chilling frost outside the door.

In it, I live a life of gladness with great memories full of love.

My room is brimming with butterflies and royal dolphins by the score.



The ceiling gleans with angels' wings that rain harmony down from above.

And I dream about sweet bright orange skies that diffuse to greet a blue shore.

In my music, I am not alone. I can soar free, just like the dove.



In my music, there is no pain to constrain this silent prisoner,

Who carries such realities upon herself and dreams alone each night.

There is always a tender voice that will comfort and encourage her.



It's the music I play that keeps the tears at bay and each candle bright.

The music transforms everything from foreboding to feeling sure

That my solitary life will be whole again, come dawn's morning light.



06/09/01

Amy Riberdy

Author's Notes/Comments: 

To each person, music has a different meaning & serves a different purpose to the individual.My music is my friend. It keeps me company on lonely nights.

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The girl next door....

Folder: 
Beauty

I'm the girl next door...

Though you've never

Seen me before

I've danced in the shadows

Of the moon

In the bed of flowers

So soft, beautiful

As you dream away

Of a girl

Not knowing

Where to find her

So just go

Ring the bell

Of your neighbor

I just may be

The girl next door

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