Better Gnomes and Gardens

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Gardens and Shrines

By poetryman69

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And so we ascended to a garden of earthly delights wherein in all manner of noble and beautiful things were assembled for the betterment of the mind and the delight of the eye.

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The evening sky was an Angel in rags

All golden tatters running to horizon

Chasing the sun as he fled

Hair aflame crashing down through blue skies into the sea.

The evening sky was a plumed serpent

shedding iridescent scales as it fled through the horizon

The evening was a tattered sky full of golden ragged light

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Strange Fire

wrinkles in all the right places

associating with any Angel that will have me

solace in the desert

peace

Beware of strange fires burning under a pale desert moon

landfall and caves of the mind

sunrise in the dessert

the flesh falls away from the bones

leaving something bleached and barren to a cool sun and dry air

tight fisted yucca blossoms looking like popcorn balls

you fear that you know what you are looking at

At the eye of a spiritual hurricane

at the center of things

the center will hold, it must

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Softly the Morning Comes

dozing in the gloaming

dreams borne of gathering light

a river runs over it

a band of ice clouds flows through the sky on a river of air

silky veins of water slip down wet rocks to the pool below

a warm and beautiful night

softly the morning comes

softly my lover hums

gentle are the breezes that blow

God only knows where my mind goes

so gentle a breeze that my wind chimes scarely tinkle

grasping clouds and holding them gently in my mind

written on soft morning breezes

rising with the birds on the air

blue heaven cascading past the painted trees

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Calm the winds.

Queue the Sunset.

Awaiting another pastel miracle.

Creeping up on the liquid mirror to gaze upon the sky.

The whole wet world is orange at the closing of the day

A untilled field of liquid light.

Waiting to be harvested by the eyes.

And I will wash myself in clouds.

But if it is after eventide then I with bathe in stars.

And use the moon for soap–if she doesn’t mind.

And at sunrise, I will burn away the sleep with morning’s fire.

And rise with birds on white or ebon wings.

And I will move across the skies with a burning orb.

And watch it all disappear at the sun’s setting.

Angel Fire

Dictionary of Dreams

Queue the Sunset

Dusk Like a Dying Mirror

Copper Moon

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