The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: Cat Sommelier

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: Cat Sommelier:  

Love, Like A Bird

 

Love, Like A Bird

I found some love in a world of lovelessness

It tumbled at my feet like a bird out of a nest

I picked it up and held it in my hand

It spoke to me but I didn't understand.

So I took it home and put it in my room

With lots of sun and space to help it bloom

I tended it and mended it's broken wing

And after many days, I heard it sing.

Never having heard a song of love

I wondered what this unknown thing was made of

And soon the wondrous marvel, with my aid

Began to find it's strength there as we played.

It hung about my shoulders happily

And sang and kept it's trusting eyes on me

And through the days and nights with stars above

A world once loveless there, we fell in love.

And love taught me so much I never knew

How to know the false from what was true

How to tell the flatteries from charms

And captivated me within it's arms.

Each day I woke in joy and rose in bliss

Hungry for love's touch and for it's kiss

Tearing down the walls around my heart

I let my fear and loneliness depart.

Who knows what love is truly or can be

A mountain's height or depth of silver sea 

Unbridled passion or a sweet embrace

Love changes form and often times, it's face.

We lived and loved like people ought to live

Giving love like lovers ought to give

No thought had I that it would ever end

That I would lose my lover and my friend.

I danced with it in joy around the room

So unaware of shadow or of gloom

The windows opened wide on that bright day

And when I wasn't looking, my love just flew away.

©by Voo Shining Stone

June 10, 2020

1:05 a.m.

Finishing Touches

 

What If

What if I

And what if you

Took a lie

And made it true?

What if one day

And what if they

Gave back to us

What they took away?

What if, what if

If you and me

Shared all the love

There'll ever be?

And what if you

And what if I

Could stop not caring

And dare to try?

What if they're real

The things that seem

So real in fantasy

And outside dream?

What if we wake

To a bright new morn

That love creates

And be reborn?

What if this woman

What if this man

Become one from two

If you take my hand?

What if's the question

And the heavy blow

But if you don't answer

We'll never know.

What if.........................?

©by Voo Shining Stone

June 29, 2021

See The Love She Found In Me

 

Dreamer

 Dreamer

Farther shores that exist in dreams

Call to his heart

Here in this life of complicated nonsense,

Old magazines, five dollar cups of coffee

And pop culture that mostly pops

But is not cultured.

When morning comes, he has not slept

But sits, still dreaming of a plan

To not make a plan

To be spontaneous in an unarranged

Detailed sort of arrangement

Hidden to the eyelids of the masses

And unheard of by the ears of conformed

 Genius claiming idiots in their billionaire boardrooms.

Music? What is that? It is his heart's blood

It is his heart's beat.  It is his soul's rush

It is his life, his love, his touch from divinity

His sanity............................

Now and then he slips into the night, still dreaming

And down the streets in rhythm walking fast

And singing low, listening to the guitar in his head

The piano solo in  his mind

Writing words that come together of their own accord

And in the writing down of those words

Heal him in some sweet mysterious way

That nothing else can and that nothing else ever will.

He longs to be invisible but needs the world

To see him as he is

And what he is is a dreamer in a dreamless world

A tough and tender warrior in a place of tiny phones

And I-Podded computer generated popcorn  pathos

Churned into a butter that won't melt and eyes that won't meet

And hearts that won't love and rain that won't fall

Until his hands touch those ivory keys and pluck those silver strings

That call out silently with their little voices, beckoning him back

No matter where he walks and no matter how far he runs.

The music calls him but it won't wait...............

It must be written. It must be played. It must be sung

Even if his heart is the only heart that ever hears it

Even if his tongue alone will taste the words

He is a dreamer and his music is the dream.

©by Voo

For Mark

August 12, 2006

11:30 p.m.