When I was a history teacher, I had a passion for the subject,
Like the twilight descending silkily, as day and night connect.
Each day was a new adventure, as we explored different ages,
Broadening young minds. I looked forward to the eager faces!
I had always yearned for teaching, so rewarding in myriad ways,
Like the reward of a peach sunrise, shining through purple haze.
I taught at a neighboring high school, and had for several years,
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
At last I was a fruitful writer, and my new novel was selling well,
Like the stars of a moonlit evening, putting lovers under a spell.
I had ever loved self expression, the power and beauty of words,
Like the beauty of marshmallow clouds, migrating skies in herds.
It all began back in my childhood, when I never left books alone,
As the magic of loved fairytales, whisks children to another zone!
Now that I was making more money, recently I'd bought a home,
Having been unemployed for some time, I had a fresh job prospect,
As sunlit rainbow beamed jaunty colors, the last time you checked.
I really needed some good news, as my savings were almost gone;
And without the paycheck coming in, I could not hold out very long.
The year before I had been laid off, but I resolutely kept searching,
Knowing I am good at what I do, like nature is good at blossoming!
This job prospect seemed promising, but I was tense nonetheless,
Lanes are still;
and church music drifts.
Cat and purple butterfly,
Hearts are filled with love.
It happened on a fairly quiet morning back when only a few creatures inhabited earth and all of them lived underwater. We will never know whether some of them had a sense of the extraordinary event that unfolded above the surface and, if so, whether it stirred anything in them, emotions or otherwise.
It is entirely possible that some of them were lying on the near beach, their backs in the waves, fronts exposed to the warmth of the sun and the cooling wind coming from the ocean to travel up and over the dunes. There, the air weaved its way through a field of purple plants. Extinct since before we could name it, the plant had hollow stems and a hole at the top, and when the wind passed, it made a flute-like sound. That morning, seemingly out of nowhere, that field produced a D flat major 9th chord with an F in the base. It was the first time that chord could be heard on this planet, and the effect was breathtaking.
It took a while before the chord was played again. It happens quite frequently now. When you hear it, you’ll know exactly what it must have been like on that windy day behind the dunes. It’s not uncommon for anyone to get a little bit emotional over it, without exactly knowing why.
in a realm of sounds
purple gold orange and reds
swirl amid vast greens
Huge blossoms perched in a crystal vase;
And how it sparkled!
While early evening sun came in slanting,
In intense burgundy golden rays, flaming.
Beauty blooms bounced at west window,
And colors were flashing!
In a summer turned hummer-honeybees.
Varicolored blooms grace evening- so new,
Just as pearls in green grass-morning dew!
so nice everywhere,
midst the hats.
making their unique statement,
like garden blossoms!
It was springtime in my nursery, an industrious time of the year,
For spring is the time to be planting, so luxurious flora appears.
As the sole owner of a nursery, there was quite a bit to oversee,
As the sun gazes out over the earth, all along its golden journey.
I had a great proficiency with plants, attained from experience,
As nature was born aware of colors, and has not forgotten since!
In fact I was never happier, than when in my nursery or garden,