“Volcanoes be in Sicily
And South America
I judge from my Geography–
Volcanoes nearer here
A lava step at any time
Am I inclined to climb–
A Crater I may contemplate
Vesuvius at Home.” Emily Dickinson
Carnations of Red by Michelle Erdman, 2011 (taken from http://www.hellopoetry.com)
My best inspiration is you,
I look into your deep eyes (always greyblueblack)
and I know that the red carnations
you gifted to me meant much more
than I love you, because you’ve already told me this countless times.
The red carnations
didn’t mean I love you.
The red carnations
meant you are so beautiful
because I don’t always hear it enough.
Sharing a beautiful poem~
Mama raccoon didn’t come home.
She left the wee one all alone.
Mom faced perils night and day.
This sad night one came her way.
Careless driver, dark of night,
A stolen life while in flight.
Racing on to who knows where,
hit the mom without a care.
Little one had lost his mother
fallen victim like the other.
All alone, a baby raccoon,
tiny face lit by the moon.
At my door a lady stood
asking me if I would
help the baby she had found
lying helpless on the ground.
Pleading so with his soft voice,
with a peek I had no choice.
Took one look and what I saw
two frightened eyes and a velvet paw.
Now my heart again would seize
a life to save and fill with ease.
Little boy I’ll stroke your ears.
With me you will have no fears.
Come sweet baby, little sir,
let me smell your precious fur.
Raccoon spirit full of charm,
rest your head upon my arm.
I want you my friend to see
what this babe has done to me.
Forego family time and sleep,
all for his sweet heart to keep.
Lovers go and lovers come
but any two are perfectly
alone there’s nobody else alive
(such a sky and such a sun
i never knew and neither did you
and everybody never breathed
quite so many kinds of yes)
Not a tree can count his leaves
each herself by opening
but shining who by thousands mean
only one amazing thing
(secretly adoring shyly
tiny winging darting floating
merry in the blossoming
always joyful selves are singing)
Sweet spring is your
time is my time is our
time for springtime is lovetime
and viva sweet love”
“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.” ― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets