The Stallion

An ethereal voice beckons the mighty steed
From the south he gallops in a gentle speed

Upon morning’s break he emerges from the shadows
Beneath a threshold he treads with trotting echoes

The mighty black stallion reveals his profile
To the one expecting, it takes a little while
He speaks none, but a smile he reveals
He touches yet shows not what he feels

The mighty black stallion with his mane so smooth
Bends down to quench his desire as he masks his truth
To the meager stream from where he drinks
Proceeds with his ways and secretly thinks

The mighty black stallion and his quiet disposition
Rests upon the grass and neighs his hidden emotions
For once, finally, he falls completely entranced
Now he waits and holds his majestic stance

The mighty black stallion seeks for his lost identity
In a place of peace and familiar tranquility
Feigned, unaffected he leaves without a trace
With no shame, no regrets, again, he hides his face

The mighty black stallion returns to the shadows
From where he came, silence replaces the echoes

Graduation

I lay claim to Summer’s fair
I gaze upon my future unaware

With shadowed sight and anxious gaze
Upon tranquil nights and restless days

I conceive my luck and my fate
With zest and unwavering faith

Upon the bridge of proverbs I shall stand
When time permits, I will comprehend

The Maiden of Ire

Many had wished that she become one with the world
Hoping that she change her ways according to some
Yet she could not be bent, she could not be swayed
Reaping only but scorn, and none would ever dare
Even a mate so wise-- she could never be preyed

Gentle as a breeze is her tempered grace, yet
Even at times she is a force to be reckoned with
Often unconsoled, and often unabashed is her poise
Leaving no trace of spite, only a thundering noise
Lady, she appears as such, but never a ruffled Mhyre
Even in a barrage of pitiful and lesser scathe, still
Generous in words and praise, she remains with
Undeniable strength, intentional forbearance, and
Equanimity—her arms, because she is the Maiden of Ire

Jewel

Just a little girl who became a woman
Ever innocent, and once naïve-- now forlorn
Was it fate that brought her to the threshold?
Endless wonderment besieges her soul, it seems
Let it be known for this woman who was once a girl

Deep in thought and deep in sighs
Everlasting hope is her only answer

Give her credit for being as such
And you’ll be amazed by her candor
Let it be known for this woman who was once a girl
Animosity shall never replace her valor

May she find peace
And the love that she needs
Remember her kindness
In times when the world is friendless
And her angels where her devotion lies
Never forget this girl who became a woman
On top of her smile, her truth knows no price  

The Lady of the Flowers

Midnight falls on the valley of the flowers
In time the Lady emerges from her slumber
Dancing as she walks, from the north she hithers
Slowly gracing each and every flower

In a patch of grass she sits with silent candor
And with hope, with pain the lady remembers
The home she left from a past behind her
She proceeds and forgets those who forgot her

Deep within the forest, she calms her head
And under the moonlight, she lays her spread
In time the Lady speaks and opens her stead
Counseling the weak as tears of hope she shed

Often she thinks and often she prays
Alone with laughter and sees her days
Alone with grief but still with grace
The Lady speaks of her future days

Remembering the counsel of elders
Opening her heart and wistful candor
The Lady gives her advise and favor
To the weak who seeks her prior

In time, in time, in time, in time
The Lady speaks of words in time
Her counsel is heard through time
The Lady persists through time

Goodbye Midz, you will always be in my heart.