Tim Miner's Musings

How lovely lilies and lilacs line any garden, lively How sweet lorikeets sing as they comb blossoms, symphony Magical dews dance on weedy paths, pickled Just how sweet and artful thy touches wert, condensing How we should act in the face of hate and misguided fear, love So, unquiet that it refuses to fit the frame, Fluid - perfectly human, Reverberant, resolute, Flooding in colours loud and merry, Unfeigned, unchanged Raging in hushed tones, yet thrives. Inconstant like desert streams, Softening, desirous Erotically erroneous, a possessed pair Fits like a dovetail, Rich, passionate That country hath no darkness nor sadness but, bright sunshines and laughter Yet hits like a thousand grits in the sand storm, their privation Heals and binds, makes dissimilar similar, joyous and unfettered By nature, by nurture, Springs irrigate the oasis.

We will seal this blood feud like good cabals do, gushed wrists and slit throats for unyielded wallets and cellphones with guns. Ignored pleas but Twaf!... for toughies for we all are good dyers, all hearts bleed. Justice is, just us, the  cops... human lefts . We will seal this blood feud like good cabals do, gushed wrists and slit throats for wallets  and cellphones unyielded with guns.  Ignored pleas but Twaf!... for the toughies for we all are good dyers, all hearts bleed. Justice is, just us, the  cops... human lefts .

Before the birth of the night and the accompanying rain, The sky was in no pain; She was bold and all blue, Her evening dress clear and new, The clouds put up a happy show; Roaring thuds and fire flashes in a tow, She whimpered, Wind brewed and willows danced; Mother Nature stirr’d up her brood, Frogs croaked, worms wiggled and cows mooed; Palpable, so happy a mood, Swallows flit as the sky hued to nimbus; From the sweet orange and scattered yellow cumulus, Unwrapping scents of the rain on dry earth and the sun mellows, The muse lain with me on a heap of feather pillows, Hills and ridges fuddled all night as at the sea, Wide was the gulf between your lips and mine, my queen bee; Longing for the night, you’ll be unafraid of me.

Credits/Pixabay “What if?”, asked Mrs. Adam naively. “What, Eve? Take this apple, Not my duffel”, affirmed Sir Pent. Dutifully, she calls out for Adam, the fruit in her hand Straight into the trap, his bad *thunderclaps as Mr. Adam bites into the apple* The Divine Rage is alight, flaming, The couple shudder in their body frames; Penitent, The serpent coiled up at some tree, Venerate, Of the Providential visitation. Curses abound, generational To the slithering clan and to The humankind, Clothed in foliage that could barely bind Stripped of, bashed from the sweet Eden Irredeemable! Out of the blissful garden, With loads of misery and no pardon. ‘’Why didn’t she take the…duff, duffl…the damn duffel? Argh! Now life’s a scuffle!” It will never be the same, again.