Statues

It is sad to be set in stone,
ideas and ideals never rewrote,
same colors in the same tone,
visions and viewpoints recited by rote.

Iphone Addiction

Screening our thoughts,

boxing our lots,

portable, veritable digital blots

stifling creation

Gray screen,

duller dreams,

boredom streams,

through our pixelated vision.

Impersonal glow,

Communication slow

Emotion in stagnation,

with the dearth of compassion

Falling into Chocolate

Linda Maron said it right,
because nothing can quite delight,
like a highly sweet and caffeinated square,
be it solid, nutty or a filled eclair.

Melting into a liquid bliss,
lovely on the tongue and lips,
incomparable in its perfection,
ubiquitous, delicious sensation.

Though a commonly irresistible temptation,
when consumed in a little more than moderation,
it does wonders for your soul,
feeds the heart and satisfies both.

And so it is a universal truth,
that the best way to enjoy youth,
is to occasionally forget fleeting love and hate.
Wouldn't you much rather fall in chocolate?

Whispers - An acrostic

Walking through shadowed woods,
Hearing a low keening,
Icicle fingers down my spine,
Scared beyond all feeling.
Peering into the fog ahead,
Eyes of gold are glowing,
Rustles sound off the side of the road
Silence.

Magic

A little bit of magic,
as the guiding spark,
for Sacagawea,
who led Lewis and Clark.

A little bit of magic,
inspired them to flight,
crossing the boundaries of doubt,
the biplane was built by the Wrights.

A little bit of magic,
shone in that blue light,
that lit the Curie's laboratory,
on a dark April night.

A little bit of magic,
let the alarm bells ring,
when Rachel Carson,
published "Silent Spring".

A little bit of magic,
gave aid in emancipation,
in his salt marches and satyagrahas,
till Gandhi helped free a nation.

A little bit of magic,
filled the written words,
from the pens of all the writers,
whose writing united the world.

A little bit of magic,
was in those that went before,
the giants of generations past,
whose discoveries are now part of lore.

And a little bit of the magic,
that stuff of childhood fantasy,
lives on in the hearts and minds,
of people like you and me.

This one is for my little brother, who has finally discovered that books (and history) are not boring.

Roads

I walk along windy roads,
that float without end or beginning,
Shifting across the sands of time,
extending beyond the farthest reaches of sight.

Ceaselessly, the terrain shifts under me,
blanketed by the clear darkness of night,
or the golden fleece of morning light,
speckled with frothy oceans and frozen lakes.

Wispy in its form, invisible to my eyes,
uncertainty the only certainty of what lies,
beyond the misted veils drifting over hills and vales,
silver cloaking destinations obscured.

Those airy roads weaving through heavens,
twisting paths high above the dry earth,
liquid mercury shining impossible to make solid,
with the warmth flowing from human hands and hearts.

Lofty goals and accompanying woes,
line the oft trodden path in the sky,
streaked with a rosy palette of dreams
in the first glimmer of sunrise,

Note:

Considering the increasing work required on my part for upcoming tests and projects, I am going to post only on Wednesdays.