RegainedVision

The white rabbit in wonderland,  He sniffs the dew in great delight I cling to it within my dreams  To have it bring me happiness’ light. He loves the white cloud, picture-proof  He knows the rhythm of cheerful songs, But I trod a path greater than his;  I dealt with every one of my wrongs. Was the rabbit not, a tad too good,  So what am I; a master of the sky? Why doth my heart boom softly now,  Is intense lament now, my only cry? Pictured myself as the saintly one;  Rode the white steed to victory-December, But I forgot to pick along the road  Fruits of April, June; November. And hesitated not when aiming high,  I saw it

I lived a long time in a dream, Had sorrow cast aside so far. In bluish water was I redeem’d, But teardrops filled my borne jar; And those drops of grief They thundered down, upon my heart. Throughout my life I had deceived My own existence; my twin part. The water that washed me clean From every bit of ghostly sign, ‘d repaired my lost and helpless scene Yet startled me; woke Fear of mine. I learned from that blessing shower, The real world it might be tough; But quivering up high in a tower Is better than a mask of love. A sacred word to those who hide A pool of water ‘ll cleanse you, An’ the depths and pits of l

The beautiful blue bird grasps a branch,   And I sit close by listening; Her song is wild and it would blanch   The very soul; my loved thing. When I was born the planet looked   Fair and unharmed by; The thunderstorm that overlooked   My life: in cheer and cry. But I needed her song;   The beautiful blue bird---- Whose name to mine it does belong   To deities unstirred. She lingers on this planet to   Affiliate with my life; Her winged élan to me it blew   So I dropped the suicide-knife. In day and night would I hear   The song that stuck with me; I could not breathe, without I fear   The blue bird in the tree. I trespass

I saw how they flew up there, Toward the sky-line troubled; One could spot an itching fear That with every new second doubled. The birds of Mavaroon flew on Toward destiny as predetermined by them: Flying from a cocoon to one; A paradise which they’d reach in time. Earth below flickered, a dying light it was, And many have truanted their duty As a lighthouse-keeper to let the light last, Obsessed by the treasure’s beauty. And now from Mavaroon came forth; The breed with wings to carry on, In my eyes they simply fought For what’s left of Nature’s sons. In my eyes they weren’t stupid During their endeavour as a

She sat on her lonely branch Her vision dulled to see it: The wolves with provisions and rules, And the required circumstance to meet it. Clinging softly to the supportive stick With nothing but a thought to relive; That she must set apart her dreams, And become all the less distinctive. Winter time had hit her too But the wolves they were clad-well. They were merry in the night, When she just lonely, sat in hell. Suicidal thoughts had spooked here and there, Mixed in with bland rejection. ‘Hold the branch tight’ she uttered, ‘My one and only true section.’ She was the dying source of inspiration And I crave to see

The black had not reached it yet, It was still light in it. For the vast rest the feast was set; One could hear the squirrel’s voice: begin it! The trees calm and awaiting something; Maybe a storm or maybe new roots. The further squirrels mounting The younger trees when they new buds shoot. Ecstasy was missing somewhere, You’d expect it with such a feast. Serenity in winter ruled the atmosphere, So maybe sooner would it be released. Crumbling the rocks beside on hill-faces, New delight coming into the scene Everywhere left the traces Of spring releasing the green.

While strolling the park at noon I spotted a nest of young birds. With attitudes to fly to the moon As if no way, they were going to get hurt. One of them she bumped a tree And fell ruthlessly from the sky. I wanted to mend her infirmity So I took her home that night. We walked away into a safe haven Empathy had saved a bird. She was black like a night raven, And she was hurt. I healed her wounds the other day Held a baby in my arms. One that fell into decay And I felt her love did me disarm. Yearning for her brothers and sisters Prevalence amongst her kind; And when she had recovered from her blisters Would I ease her troubled mind. We

The butterfly; Rosemary was her name, She sat on a lonely branch this eve. In a distant and far away land Where beggars smile and kings grieve. The song she sang, like nightingales Would cause an echo to wave forth And animals from round her tree Protruded their ears with great effort. Rosemary had a special gift: Her wings could cause an avalanche. No hurricane to wipe the stores But more a gift of dreams she’d launch; From forth the top of her little tree, With beauty-things and merry chants Would come crumbling down unto the ground The source of every dreamy trance. The butterfly had enemies In the woods of Eveloon. The wolves fr

We all attended the scene; The one where Her Mother Nature will rise. We all know where she's been Just closing her weary eyes. The dead birds linger still In the sky targeted by hate. And with power of a dozen windmills Would she, for once, change fate. She drew her voice as if a weapon And shouted with a tone so clear. No one ever fathomed this to happen But we all stood now so near. My mind was trembling heavy After she developed tones; Ones I'd dare not call too shabby It was beauty all alone. All the marks left behind By the prevailing of our crime. All the clouds they were now signed By the empathy of time. So her meddling with her

Back then when I abandoned the stars, A feeling that occurred so sudden Had I no testament to life so harsh, To carry 'mongst my luggage. I found peace under the weeping willows That entangled me so soft; Their roots like crashing billows Producing memories so oft. And my figure in the mud disappeared, And what's left is just a ghost. Heaven struck me; so much I feared And I would be a lightning's host. But the willows took the blame For my sorrow and despair. Henceforth I carved their name In the place unhandled by care. Every night and night again From that day forth---- The stars would come like nightingales To have my heart endorsed.