Which moon you have taken?
Crescent, half, full moon
or the dark one -

I think,
Crescent is the hope
As it tries to move you -

A half moon,
As if you are in half a way,
You should be pushed to drive rest -

The full moon,
As if the first love is dancing in the moon
And you are kissing

And the dark one,
You are drinking alone the beauty
When your love is whispering -

@ Musfiq us shaleheen

Long Valley lay outside my bedroom window
high desert Northern Nevada,
each sunrise
rose
brilliant red
spirals
spires
exploding
in the passing dawn,
to
the petroglyphs
we were drawn.

The asphalt became a dirt road
then the dirt road ended.

Along Long Valley
like some drive through zoo,
herds of wild burros
cattle
sheep
grazing
separated by Pinion pines
the white sage
the dust devils
and the tumble weeds
and a 52 Studebaker body
perfectly preserved
in the high desert dry air
one could only wonder how it got there.

Long Valley had its own expanse
its own vibration to the air
distinct and unique
filled with wonder
way out there.

The petroglyphs
10,000 year old drawings
at once was
the shores of ancient
Lake Lahontan
you could feel it there.

Trying to decipher
the lines and curly cues
circles and swirls
stars and shapes
of
an alien consciousness
from another land
another time.

This was no one rock
but
acres and acres
of generations
communicating with one another
the rocks worn away
from thousands of years of sitting
forming perfect lounge chairs,
perhaps sitting alongside
some receding shore line.

There were  stone rock walls carefully stacked
mysteriously standing  scattered
in the desert
no one knows what it really means.

While lost in the tones
the scents and vision
of the millennium,
on the hillside
through the Tamarack
and Pinion
there emerged
four wild mustangs
at a distance
on the top of the ridge
not those that wandered
into our Virgina City yards

But wild animals
tied to the horses of the millennium.
Power and Strength
spirit gods
reminding us of where we were.
The winds blew
the black mane
of the male in front
wet from sweat
chest heaving in breath
and then they were gone
over the hill
from where they had come.

The petroglyphs were silent.
The sounds of the winds
the sounds of the small stream
less than a drop
in the once Great Lahontan Sea.

Before the sun went down
we needed to leave
driving along the sides
of dry river beds
up rocky hillsides
along the electrical lines
to the dirt road
to the asphalt
as the Long Valley
sunset shot
spires of red.

~

There is a happy flower
As proud as he can be
Living In a garden
Beneath the garden tree
Sunny skies of blue
What he loves to see
There is a happy flower
Growing wild and free
~
There is a happy flower
As cute as she can be
Living in a garden
Beneath the garden tree
Birds of every color
What she loves to see
There is a happy flower
Blooming beautifully
~
A funny thing did happen
Deep beneath the ground
In amongst the dirt and worms
Where darkness can be found
Roots began to travel
One set to the west
The other moving eastward
A very lengthy quest
Till one day it happened
The roots began to touch
They really loved the feeling
They loved it oh so much
These roots they grew connected
Locked together tight
Hoping that the other
Wishing that they might
Would know the others feelings
Soon become as one
Living life together
Underneath the sun
They’ll hold on for forever
Or till the end of time
Roots of his and roots of hers
Living intertwined
~
There are two happy flowers
Blooming Beautifully
In two different gardens
Beneath two different trees
Their roots to stay connected
Until eternity
Two happy little flowers
In love as they can be

She was neglected
and invisible for so long
in this wild, overgrown
garden, where she lived
out her days.

No longer having a reason
to shine, she slipped into
apathy and simply stopped
resisting as her petals began to
fall and her leaves began
to falter.

With her young buds in tow
she concentrated all her
attention onto them, thus
attempting to dilute and
bury her own hidden
dreams.

Her name, was Lily of
the Valley, and she had
forgotten how to proudly
hold up her majestic
blades and bask in the
sun's nurturing warmth.

Till one day, when she
began to receive anonymous
inked encouragement from
an admirer from a
neighboring flower patch.

She'd never seen his face,
never shared a drop of
rain water, yet, with the
passing of each day, his
words inspired her and
she remembered what it
felt like to be acknowledged
and adored, for her mind,
as well as for her fragrance
and beauty.

His name was Narcissus,
and his endearing and
sensuous verses mesmerized
her, and once again, her
beauty began to fluoresce,
for all the garden to see.
The account of which the
grape vines would duly
spread, with uncommon
verve.

Her bulbs took on the luster
of silken pearls...and her
fragrance, took on a
scintillating aroma that
swam along the waves of
every breeze.

Her name, was Lily of the
Valley, and Narcissus was
the virile flower that stole
her heart...and restored
her reason to bloom.




-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

The sky vividly alive, illuminated with the stars and planets
The night charged with vibrant summer sounds
The forest menacing with nocturnal creatures
Who upon our retirement, await to plunder the camp ground

The surface of the lake reflects the high summer moon
So peaceful and calm like an old mother’s womb
A feeling of true freedom like the owl’s evening flight
Time stands still this midsummer night

The campfire dances as we all gather round
Stories and laughter as our marshmallows brown
Peaceful is our sleep as our spirits smile
And even upon hard ground it’s all worth the while

We awaken to the early show so vividly underway
With just a hint of the morning dew the cool humid night has laid
A breeze so mild it forces a smile of fresh new forest green
Busy squirrels and singing birds enjoy all that life will bring

The laughing cry of the loons and swallows on the lake so old and free
The presence of Indian spirits in the surrounding ancient trees
Dragonflies like fairies fly embrace the tortoise shell
Yellow flowers on the lily pads where croaking bullfrogs dwell
Crawdads and minnows reminisce of yesteryear
When we were only children still wet behind the ears

The flowing of yonder stream
Makes me begin to daydream.
Little waterfalls so swift
And my mind begins to drift.

Water so fresh and so cold
Nearby Beech tree standing bold.
Beside the stream I daydream
Whom could with me sit by stream?

Evening does too soon come
And soon sets that golden sun,
On a day so carelessly
Dreaming dreams so happily.

Lost in thought by yonder stream
I see rays of golden gleam.
Whom could with me sit and dream
Lost in thought by yonder stream?*

Тадеус