with a nod to Cyrano de Bergerac

I send my heart out
wrapped in tissue paper
a bow on top
the emotions spring forth
a river overflowing
these feelings I have
when your image appears
on the street before me
the way your eyes shine
when you tell an amusing story
the tilt of your head
when in conversation
your smile when you dance
your bold assertions
leave me without air
to twist and turn
unable to express
what must remain unspoken
and thus reduced to words
my inner character exposed
in what I write
in what I do
but never in what I say
I speak through fictional poses
to the one who exists
in my mind
hoping somehow you’ll hear
the song in my heart

 

In The Middle Of Summer by Alexander Shurbanov

even the river stands still
The fiery rose–
a crisp cutout in the quiet air–
looks like a drawing.
The pears–
drops of golden sap
under the boughs’ green overhang–
as though they will never fall.
And my heart–
joyful and calm
like the midday sun–
far from rising
or setting down.
The honey on the lips–
still glowing
in the middle of the road–
a brief taste
of immortality.

translated by Ludmilla G. Popova-Wightman

Would you take a knee?

from the blog Rangewriter

rangewriter's avatarRangewriter

In my rather compromised memory, there was a time when about the only time I heard the National Anthem was at the beginning of a rodeo. Then of course, I was exposed to other sporting events, like high school, college, and pro football. And of course the anthem is prevalent at the international competition of the Olympic Games.

The Anthem has the ability to move me to tears. I confess that I bought into the old-school notion that Francis Scott Key wrote the anthem to honor the bravery of our young armed services in their battle for independence from England. In addition to the imagery of the flag waving amid smoldering ramparts, the song also takes me back to that time in my youth when my pony and I tried valiantly to keep up with the big horses as they snaked expertly around the dusty arena to the rousing Stars…

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hope realized

it’s like walking underwater
one is tired
even before one begins
but there is this image
just out of reach
that sustains me
and though for every two
I lose one
I keep moving
like a lens
that keeps focusing
I am drawn forward
your face before me
the light in your eyes
a promise unspoken
hope realized

 

 

three choices: lessons in life

sometimes
a problem pops up
and you have three choices
ignore it
maybe it’ll go away
ask someone else
what to do about it
so you don’t have to
make a decision
on your own
and thus be responsible
or just deal with it
not the easiest option
but ultimately
the one that helps you
grow
and be the adult
you claim to be

a dream away

I was talking to a friend
about the way the world
is going
and we thought back
in time
to the sixties
not just in america
but all over the world
death war peace protest
words common in many tongues
civil liberties in check
fingers pointing
black and white issues
countries divided
by ageracereligiongender
issues still alive today
names change
and faces too
but victory is still a dream
away