By a father
Recall! the fine year the seahorses came.
They danced to soft harps and boys stroked their manes.
We wondered if it would ever happen again,
Recall! the great year the seahorses came.
Before! I was there alone on the moon,
A moon that was violet as petals in June,
One day the lucky are sent to go bloom,
Before! I was there alone on a moon.
Thanks! are reserved for my Ma and my Pa,
Who welcomed me in from that trip from afar,
A love so fierce, to be felt from that star,
Thanks! are reserved for my Ma and my Pa.
Whoosh! went my ears and my head side to side,
I laughed all the way on that magic rug ride,
Purple and scarlet flashed through my eyes,
Whoosh! went my ears and my heart side to side.
"Love! all the creatures, the wasps and the bees,"
The first simple words you whispered to me.
"Dance in warm rain, YOU welcome the breeze!
Love! all the creatures; the wasps and the bees."
See! all is crimson and velvet and good,
With music and cymbals alive in your blood,
Punch LOVE with pink fists and fight in warm mud,
See! all is crimson and velvet and good.
Climb! in short pants up green tulip trees,
Sonnets and laughter and lush July breeze.
For teaching me "Yes, sir," and "With butter, please."
Do come and sit by the old tulip trees.
Ride! and ride on in sweet country lanes,
"Delicious friend nature" and such high refrains,
Lilac bruised skies deserve all our praise,
Ride on our bikes on sweet country lanes.
Recall! our vast thanks to the great violet moon.
For without that true friend, we rush nowhere soon.
She delivers us all with a scream and a swoon.
Recall! sacred thanks to the wise violet moon.
Alas! time passes and takes what she gives,
No man is that island on which he must live.
The luna ticks on or so we believe,
Alas! Time passes and takes what she gives.
In cornfields, church pews and schoolyards we fought,
'Til we left that brown land for a friendlier port,
In green and dark navy, a fair life we'd bought.
The price was so high for the battles we'd fought.
Before! I was here alone in this world,
A moon that was violet told me a word.
It stayed a firm secret; never was heard.
Before! I was sad, alone in this world.
That moon of deep purple soon sent a new life,
The word was soon spoken to friends and a wife,
A father I was; joy cut like a knife.
That moon of deep purple had sent a new life.
Whoosh! went his ears, he laughed like a child,
His indigo eyes and blonde curls so wild.
He taught me to walk, mannered and mild.
Whoosh! went my heart. I laughed like a child.
The path for a sister was built to this earth.
Violet moon mother again gave us birth.
Youths sang with full hearts, all of their worth,
The path for true love was built to our Earth.
His small boyish hand did search safety of mine,
As once I had done to that mother of thine,
When she was herself a scared and shy bride.
His soon mighty hand loved always in mine.
He spake as a man; away went child's things.
Orchestra! Conductor, magical things.
What moves us in childhood shall shift men and Kings.
He is a man; BACK! come child's things.
Rejoice! with full heart as the lad he did grow,
"I suspect stars have wisdom" he said he did know.
"Goldflakes and stardust the blue moon shall show."
Rejoice! with our hearts as the great man did grow.
Breathe! White Narcissus, the sweetest of flowers,
Wave to dear friends in ivy-green towers,
A giggling giant turns minutes to hours.
Breathe! White Narcissus, the finest of flowers.
The red eyes of wolves in winter did fear,
The boy then the man with each passing year.
For nothing can touch or bathe him in fear,
The soft violet moonbeams shine on our King here.
Years! of sweet treasures and ne'er chasing jades,
Cotton blue, periwinkle, sunshine and shades.
My snapping heart strings are each hour remade.
Years! of love's treasures, WE do not need jades.
At last, the circle demands of its own.
A baby is sent, who is made of YOUR bones.
Mothers and fathers weep such a sweet tone,
At last, YOUR sweet child; we were NEVER alone.
Lemonade poetry on violet moonbeams,
You saved all our lives, you small turquoise dream.
Buttercups, slingshots, you're the King that you seem,
Drink! lemonade poetry with rich teal moonbeams.
Recall! the fine years the seahorses came.
They dance to pearl harps and boys stroke their manes.
Good men know full well they will come yet again.
Recall! the great times the seahorses came.
NEVER THE END