Fascination With Facts and Facets
LXXXV.
We feel we need
To ask for reasons
When there are
No reasons.
When the reasons
Are within
The thing itself,
We need
To ask it not.
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
What is time or space
In moments
Of shared caring?
Does the ocean exist
To separate
Heart from heart?
I think not!
Is not a moment
Fully lived
The closest thing
To paradise?
I think it is!
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
Your unconditional friendship offer
Totally disarms me.
Please don't spoil it
With conditions.
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
Winter comes
Abruptly
None too soon.
And afterwards
Its harvest
Sprawls
Upon the loom
Of life
We call a brain.
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
The morning world's
Indifferent
To the inner state of me.
I could be dying here,
And even so, -
In that same moment,
Through glistening dew,
A bird sings.
Breezes blow.
A sun arises.
Cocks crow.
A squirrel listens,
A church bell rings.
Roaches endure.
Surprises ~ few.
But this, I know -
There is a kind of comfort in it.
Life is securely insecure!
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
The morning sky
Is bluest
In the west,
Though farthest
From itself
And its sunrise.
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
I've grown a garden
And picked its flowers,
As blossoms out of air.
But days and hours
Of drought impede
Their normal progress there.
This season the daisies
May be scrawny
And roses, all too rare.
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
Heavens, open up
Your floors
And shower Earth below.
The dwindled dreams
Await your flow.
Fields and streams
Are thirsty,
So ~
Open up
To wanting Earth below.
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
The dawn is drenched
In rain today
No glow shows through
The cracks in space.
The Earth is kissed in mist.
Stream, stretched,
Fields, fattened,
And birds, perhaps
Leave minute tracks
Upon the lmbs
Beside their nests.
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
You could be
My Santa Claus
And pause
Some evening
From your holiday
To make my
Wish come true.
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
Youth
and age
Intermingle
Without
Complexity.
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
We gaze
Back on history
With today's
New jaded eyes,
Seeing men in ruffled shirts
Making laws and starting wars,
Telling bold-faced lies,
Making fools of all of us
When truth they did despise.
Our thoughts fix on our precious goals,
Theirs, on elegant indulgence,
Each, only to disguise
All the shabby grime beneath
The grim and nasty truth.
It's no surprise
If we prefer not knowing them
And wish to charge ahead.
But, - alas, - instead,
We realize and prove, -
From every place of view, -
That we're all simply human too.
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
Sylvia Syms sings Noel Coward's "Mad About The Boy"
Love is
The sustenance of angels
And if we mortals
Thrive on it
A little bit,
Perhaps
We're more divine
Than we supposed.
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
