The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

LARRY AND GARRY AND MERRYANNE new edit

LARRY AND GARRY AND MERRYANNE

THERE ONCE WAS A FAIRY NAMED LARRY

WHO LIVED WITH HIS TWIN BROTHER GARRY

THEY LIVED IN A TREE BY THE SIDE OF THE SEA

AND VOWED THAT THEY NEVER WOULD MARRY.

THEIR LIVES WERE FULL OF SINGING SONGS

AND MAKING MERRY ALL DAY LONG

THEY HAD A LOVELY, HAPPY HOME

TILL MERRYANNE MET GARRY.

NOW MERRYANNE WAS BLONDE AND SWEET

AND GARRY WORSHIPED AT HER FEET

(BUT LARRY SAID HE SMELLED DECEIT)

AND WARNED HIS BROTHER GARRY.

BUT GARRY WAS SO MUCH IN LOVE

HE SWORE SHE FELL FROM UP ABOVE

WITH JOY THAT FAIRY TALES SPOKE OF

AND DETERMINED SOON THEY'D MARRY.

ONE MORNING EARLY IN THE DAY

GARRY WOKE AND WENT HIS MERRY WAY

TO FIND HIS LOVE HAD GONE ASTRAY

AND BROKE THE HEART OF GARRY.

AND NOW HE LIVES IN THE TREE ALONE

THAT ONCE WAS THERE A HAPPY HOME

FOR FICKLE MERRYANNE IS GONE

(SHE MARRIED HIS BROTHER LARRY.)

© BY VOO

JULY 10, 2005

4 pm

Poet of the Light's poem "In Betweens"

by Poet of the Light
Shed petals of a poet's whisper
Sep 25, 11:40 PM

In-betweens

I can be, be there
Between every happenstance
To save you- be the last
From everything that
Drowns you so easily
And often in bitter sea’s
Like an answer in a dream
When at last finally happens
I can be, be the fresh breathe of air
That changes things, all directions
And lets the sun come up- smiling
As the feeling of love covers you
While you lay within my arms gently
Yes I- I can be, be there, a difference
In all your nights and days
And even the way you think
About everything that- matters
If only you can save…me first

Poet of the Light © 2017

Monday, September 25, 2017

DREAMS THAT CANNOT DIE

Dreams That Cannot Die

Living life, that unswerving road, that follows no road map

We travel ever onward on past triumph and mishap

We stop at roadside flower stands and smell the rose's bloom

And buy ourselves some fragrance that begins to fade so soon.

We light a light there in the night 'twixt midnight and the dawn

We love the dark but more the spark that makes the darkness gone

We count off days in lovely ways but more oft than not, in gloom

And look for love to come our way but hardly make it room.

Our lives are busy, busy things, we breathe too fast to know

That death is always on our heels and needing fear to grow

We miss the sunsets in the west, sunrises in the east

And nibble tidbits here and there and miss out on the feast.

We do not learn, we only burn our energy in toil

And only grasp what has slipped past as we leave this mortal coil

We wonder why we cannot hear the song of birds so sweet

But the sound of birds and the poet's words are drowned out by our feet.

The music, the melody, the rhythm of dance, the symphony's refrain

The flute, the lute, the violin, the sound of pouring rain

The laughing child running free and wild, the heartbreak of a kiss

When we are old it's then we know that life is made of this.

Then aged heads will bow in sorrow, with weathered faces, sigh

And replay life that slipped away and dreams that cannot die

For life is not to be hurried through but savored as we live

And not a thing to be taken lightly but something that we give.

©by Voo

Jan 31, 2005
2 a.m.
For Layne Longfellow

Saturday, September 23, 2017

NO MORE NIGHT

No More Night

It's not that darkness is beautiful
Or that in it's embrace
You find an ecstasy that cannot
Be felt in any other realm

It's not that.............

It's not that darkness is alluring
Or that in it's seduction
You find a place to be your true self
Without inhibitions

It's not that............

It's not that darkness is magical
Or that in it's magic illusions live
And you can deceive yourself into believing
That they are real

It's not that...........

What it is and always has been
Is that darkness is a hiding for ugliness,
A veil shielding the monstrous
And a book cover hiding the mysteries

It's that and more...........

What it is and always has been
Is that darkness came before light
And continually follows it around
Like death follows life

Darkness is the candle snuffer,
The lips that blow out the sun,
The background that allows the moon
To shine forth it's borrowed and counterfeit light

It has it's music, it has that
But music made up of sounds and howls
And screams and streams of ghostly footsteps
Walking in night, searching for day

It's not that darkness is lovely
Or has a beauty all it's own
But by covering up the blemishes of this world
It appears to be

And that is why we love it
And always will
Until there is no more night.