The Solitary Sapling

​momenting with postures within fairy poise and charm
kilns of fog and char like wooden pots of lemon balm
morning spires in traced out lines which signature the sky
perhaps in deed in sullen need the ending is soon nigh
collapse in the spectrum with the escapings in a light
which ever needed rescuing now flying from the fight
loops of life in broken chimes from alarms long lost to time
watch out for dreams in bitterness for they are the anglers line 
follow peace and joy with love with never ending roads
be your best to rise above the dreary sinking tones
it may be wrong to think of self as something to take care 
from the perception of it within those eyes with the glassy stare
but a flower needs to blossom before the bees will visit it
and the aroma must be sweet with colours vibrant to sit
a bud or a stalk with bending and signs of distraught
will be chewed by the lambs or the any other kind or sort
which happens to be passing by

Gossip Stopit 

The day we stop listening to gossip,
Is the day we discover what really matters,
The control of opinion is trust,
Yet opinion flows like an ever changing stream,
Trust opinion to flow and ever meander onward,
But oh, the gossip in our thoughts,
Not a river but an ocean,
A wild, torrential, deep, and terrorsome ocean,
Filled with sharks and biting things,
That sucker and pucker,
Like sirens and lord byrons,
If that could be stilled,
What would really matter then?