Waking Up

Waking Up

Waking up to see you near,
sleeping quietly,
peeves me dear and when you stir
I’d freeze, stay still and be;
breathing in the morning cheer
that early sun rise bring.
Then giggling with a knowing grin
that you will smile for me.

Curtains dance with singing wind
that passes through our window;
single birds glance by our bed
room, curious as the widows
next door . . .

Waking up to see you near,
sleeping quietly,
tickles me that when you stir
I’d hug you, silently.
Caressing you with all my heart
each morning that I rise,
I’d whisper words of hope and love
to keep you by my side.

Bells and cymbals all around
would ring into the sky,
petals flutter in the spring air -
white doves takes a lover’s dive
outdoor . . .

Waking up to see you here,
sleeping quietly,
please me dear that when you stir
I’d kiss you slow and sweet.

To Urban Blight

In my mind and heart

wings of gold take flight

and from outstretched hands

there stream beams of light . . .

From the sky I dive

without a doubt to urban blight;

ever knowing that you'll come 

tonight. 

All day 

in the sun I laze

visions glide like dials in the sky

Little drops
between my eyelashes sparkle
like flakes of pure white snow. 

And empyrean dusts they make

shapes of horses and of him

whom I've yearned and longed

for many years . . . 

And the stars they twinkle so

and the moons they circle more

while the comets zoom and speed

and in frenzy meteors freeze

In my mind and heart

voices whisper raptures, too

from my lips they part

the words "I love you . . . "

From the sky I dive

without a doubt to urban blight;

ever knowing that you'll come 

tonight. 

The Name of My Angel

I have wanted to draw him for a long time. I finally did it!

My angel guards me day and night
he glows with white and shim'ring light
his long and flowing beard they spread 
down to his knees;   
Or were they indeed his knees . . . ?

My angel soothes me when I'm tense
he builds a shield for my defense
against deleterious clout and verve;
My angel he can calm my nerves.

My angel, he be old and wise
with smoke that trails from his ancient pipe.
I love him for his good advice,
his guidance and his artifice.

I wish I knew, I wish he'd tell
the name he bore with him as well
that I may call him as a friend
from now till Death shall meet my end.

-Phamiel