nature poems

Cross The Name Off The List,
Off The Page And Off The Past,
Etchings InTo The Quiet Deep,
Let Sleep Not Be As A Route To Struggle,
As It Forgets ItSelf While I Strain To Remember,
To Recognize Familyar Eyes In The Mirror,
While There Is Change Behind The Flesh,
The Bone Underneath Stays The Same,
Holding This Up… Keeping This All From Falling APart,
Teeth Under Lips Near Tongue And…
…
My Voice Through My Throat,
A Traveler On A Bridge From Heart To Ear,
Then From The Heat InTo The Earth,
Forwards InTo The Winding Waters,
Thicker Than A Trickleing Dawn,
Erodeing The Foundations Of Dusk,
To Surround Its Origination WithIn Rhythmic Dissidence,
Borrowing NoThing And Knifeing At The Roots,
Dissolveing… InTo A Sense Of Humor… Killing Interference…
…
Birthing Coherence When The Signal Stabs Back,
Static Fadeing With Its Laws,
Now To Mend When It All Crawls Out From The Shade,
Returning…
…
At The Junction,
Crossed At Its Roads,
Am I My Voice As It Travels…
…
Or… Is It Being Me In Silence?

More at http://rwkt.blogspot.ca.

The paintings are to be kissed or spited,
used in embellishing the drawing room
or thrown in dustbin to injure the environment.
A sensitive painter is careful
in centralizing all of his
skills, experiences and virtues
on the top of his brush
and skillful to compel the clean canvas
to conceive a painting–
beautiful and useful too,
with each and every passionate touch of his brush on it.
Blood turns into hot sweat,
sheds on the stainless canvas
and a magnificent painting is born,
compelling claps, kisses, rewards and awards
to be generous to drop on it
from the blissful eyes and the perceived hearts.
Maybe, a bunch of blessings are also bestowed
By blissful and watchful aerial eyes
and a course of curses are booked
for those careless painters
who give their paintings just the beginning,
leaving the finishing to money and machine,
produce some so-called paintings–
lacking color and scent of humanity,
dump them in the slums of garbage
and pollute the cleanliness of the environment
where the stainless paintings are still gathering the blossoms
thrown gratefully by the blissful eyes and the peaceful hearts.