I pale priestess poet
ride this white mount
streaming wisps of colorless ribbons
trail out
like tenacles of thoughtless
love
of mindless desire
thirsting for that which
is discarded from boys
with Italian shoes and
and leased morals
I gather the carnage
in their wake
nurturing those cast off

in progress 1st draft

From my sister...

The Muse awakes
restless to create
Behind open eyes
Stars sparkle and fizzle
On fire with life
She sings
a song of art
of beautiful
shapes and forms
that stirs
the Artist
to dream in color
The song and dream
approach each other
with embracing
arms of feelings
that reach to
each other
to hold hands
Hands clasp each other
pulling the song and dream into embrace
song within a dream
flying on a jet stream
The Act of Love begins
with strokes of passion
that layer and build
and build and build
until rapture brings the closure
the Muse cries for in the highest notes of her song
and the dream has taken on a life of its own.

Karen Osun
June 22, 2017

An old woman
in a tattered gray coat
walked down a twist dirt path
lifting every stone
looking for god...

god walked along
behind her
at some
unfathomable distance
puzzled...

through every twist
every bend and turn,
the old woman
never looked up
unaware
of what
loomed ahead

the winter wind
blew through her course grey hair

tbc

Rin' 『 紫のゆかり、ふたたび 』4u

If A Tree Falls Acoustic Bruce Cockburn with lyrics

small things...

I write about
small things
like imperfection
of thought...

like asymmetrical
food portions...

like misplaced
socks
and pens...

like smaller
moments of
perfect alignment
and
thoughtless love