OUT THEREA Display of Consumers' Arts and Literature |
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Voon, Gerard |
| Feelings of the Heart Why must a lonely heart pine for something that is for most of us so hard to find , The quest for; that sublime, that elusive, that euphoric, thing we call love, in the tender ages it is a crush, an infatuation, at a mature age it is an intimate connection, that becomes a lifetime knot, Some say it is a feeling, Can we strive for it? Perhaps when we find the "right", partner, But a lonely heart can only hear whispers that waft gently over open seas, that straddle the swirling crest of foam of our multitude of varying emotions, Emotions, throughout a lifetime proliferate, Emotions, give breath to the thing we call life. A Sweet Dream Each sunrise, Birds sing of what is the day to come, With my love, we shared, we cared, the beautiful dance of love, Morning, powered, by the hopes of mutual dreams, and faith in things unseen, At noon, an intimate lunch for two, The afternoon, hustling and bustling, Night Falls, a dinner by candlelight, gently flickering, the hearts of two star-crossed lovers, Of desires here and now, Of milestones over the landscape of entire lifetimes. A Touch of Sweetness The passage of time, a memory no less, Love’s nature, who can guess, A gentle sweetness she did impart, be still my heart, be still my heart, And so I vow, if fate it be, One day again to see… A Warm Glow A presence in a classy sense, With or without diamonds and pearls, My twinkling star is always a sophisticated girl, What is the measure of beauty, Look at her portrait, Can you see the inner beauty that lies within, tongues of warm flame her soul exudes, glows, gives healing, how can words describe such and aura, mystical, rather towards a celestial essence. Delight Light, O Light, O Smile in the night, Light, O Light, Thou brought delight, So pure and daring, and still not glaring, Not raw, not might, but enduring bright, Once here, now gone, Where, O Where, has one so fair, not a flicker here, not a flicker there, Extinguished before your time, Now only the rhyme, O Light, O Light, that shined so bright, O Light, O Light, thou have my sight Divine Time Cold winds come blowin in, Snow flakes tenderly flutter down, Silence radiates and permeates, nearly palpable, This is the time, Jinga, Jing, Jing, Jingaling, Sparkling snow, clean and fresh, Let’s all make merry and be happy, Christmas is soon a coming, Right about now, Santa’s a practicing his sky sledding skills, Anticipation runs high, Will come this precious time to cherish, A time to remember, The Christ Child, the one messianic and divine, Outside, surrounded by the snow blanketed landscape, emotes a sense of ethereal magic, Inside we can enjoy the warmth of the fire, treating on chestnuts and popcorn, decorating yuletide trees, The Cresendo spikes its seasonal climax, A feast of turkey, and for some, cranberry, fruitcake, short bread cookies, eggnog, pumpkin pie... Enough to make our tummys round. Praise God, throw your cares in the air, and embrace the wonderful festive season. Gifted The Universe spins, Time takes its Eternal Passage, And every now and then in the movement of heavenly bodies, A human being is born, A prodigy, Gifted with exceptional talents, Quite wonderous, Let the Wisdom of the World proclaim, Platinum and gold, Static treasures by which we measure wealth, Precious metals but worthless junk as compared to the preciousness of Human Talents, Dynamic contributors to the richness of real wealth for our world, We the peoples of this world should indeed give awards of recognition, by and for the sake of mankind, for excellence in all noble fields of endeavour, Shine for us with your gifted talents, Enrich our lives, Enrich the world, for all who seek to embrace the goodness that the world has to offer. The Cycle of Everyday Yesterday trickles away, The movement of time is gone away, Time never stays, for more than one way, for more than one day, Another tomorrow brings, Future hopes and lofty dreams, Waiting to be fulfilled, At Dusk the Sun’s iridescence, begins to fade, Sunset signals the close of each day, Blazing rays of changing hues of oranges, reds, pinks, purples… Splashes against the precipice of darkness. The Sheen of Darkness Where does darkness come from, Surely a desolate place, A place where silence keeps the peace, The Earth’s shadow cast darkness, Upon its face on the opposite side of facing the sun, What does darkness mean, To some a spooky time, When hogoblins roam, And gargoyles creep, To some peace and quiet, A time to sleep, To me, An end to the busyness of everyday, The moon but a slightly luminescent companion, sailing its way across the blackness of the night sky. The One I stroll in the valley, Among the flowers, There are flowers everywhere, The meadows are filled with many coloured hues, Daffodils, lilies, chrysanthemums, and dandelions too... Over the hill I encounter a torrential river. The river is deep and the current is strong. I follow its course, searching... Along the bank there are many flowers. But I am searching for the one. The effort is painful and the thought of never finding the right one, So despairing. Then it captures my attention. Across the river on the other bank, Among the red berry bushes, To describe it would be to put in words what cannot be put in words. The sunflower exudes the warmth and brightness of a burst of sunshine. But it pales in comparison to the light of my flower. The rays of sunshine penetrate my heart, bringing joy. A fragrance so rare and sweet permeates the air. More enticing than the fragrance from a common rose. The fragrance of my flower tenderly melts my heart. Indeed, I have heard it said that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, but the most beautiful orchid could not compare to the exquisite beauty of my flower. I have come so close I could almost touch my flower. Its tender petals smooth and silky, its supple shape and gentle curves. My heart burns with desire. But alas, I fear it may be all in vain. For the river is deep and the current is strong. Must it be that I must wait for the changing of seasons. From the torrential surge of spring to the full blossoming in the drying heat of summer, when the river will die down and I may cross. Alas, will flower still be there. I fear and I am saddened, to be so close to my flower and yet still so far... Composed By, The Human |
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