Ten Times Purple

Red and Blue holding hands,

locked together in nature's bands.

A girl's color, some say,

boys should not have a purple bedroom where to play,

like a 60's kid, hair billowing and leather vests with fringe,

it's that hippie purple that sends them on a color binge,

wearing flowers in their hair, the song would say,

like petunias, on a summer garden day,

most seen in white,

so bland a sight!

the flowered pot incomplete without that lavender birth

waving from the seeded earth.

And that sky!

What can one say? Simply. "Aye!"

The purple shaded sun arise raising us to deep nature knowing,

unmatched by the bleached full zenithed yellow glowing.

Call it mauve, or violet,

periwinkle, pomegranate, or plum,

whatever, by name, it invites us briefly, Come!

Lead us, Purple, on a path, oh guide,

to evening dark, bluish red in its stride.

It is Purple that welcomes us, all the same,

not once,

but ten times, we acclaim!

TRAVELING

Golden copper-tops draped in white,

Vast distances of color.

We propel ourselves forward...

The array a part of us;

Briefly/Always.

transitions

Leaf

falls through air

Quietly.

Resting

on a new

bed of snow.

Life

ended,

its body

Reclines.

Visit the Temple

The Bodhisattvas

show the path

to altars gifted;

Incensed.

A thousand Buddhas

surround The One.

Fill the space;

Their presence known.

Candles aflame,

Prayers offered,

Petitions/Supplications/Thanks.

Smoke rising: Aware!

Depart

The Saints have been blessed.

They speak to us in gentle footfalls,

And bless us.

R.T. Saunders

January 2013

January 8

7:21am - Rise

Aware

the Day.

List, To do.

Thank, Ask, Beg, Pray.

Anger, Gossip, Confide, Betray.

Eat, Spend, Delight, Receive.

Glory see.

Hurt feel.

Struggle engage.

Grasp. Hold. Release.

Create!

4:45pm – Set

Morning Mourning

Aware

of insides touched and

trauma relieved in different form,

releasing poison,

and alive,

again.

Visiting Home

A nice day today with

My Mother.

We talk, we laugh, we share wine,

at cocktail time.

We don’t sing,

because we can’t.

We know that much!

May 2013

There Is Only Do

Spinning in the circle of the unaccomplished,

overtaken in the dust of the left behind,

lived on the corners, too often observing, watching

never getting on, or off the bus that’s always late.

Limboed

expecting something to happen.

There, to be noticed, the always hoped for other.

I did not go to bed as told.

That started everything.

Reading under the covers, dreaming before sleep,

the daylight arriving too soon

marching always beyond dreamland,

the missed years

coming together in Nots,

the infinite limits of No.

But Yes floats with dreams, wispy to grasp, and heavy to carry,

the claim of the addicted,

the mouth dry, a tasted remembrance.

I pushed beyond dreams once, expecting no payoffs.

Not the gambler’s risk, the bank always wins.

The choices universal. The choices present. The choices of heart.

No or Yes.

Do or not Do.

I Did once. Love.

R. T. Saunders July 2022

Poetry