Beauty Unveiled
 

She of untimely existence, with grace unrivaled.
Of occasion rare, of beauty unveiled, of love proclaim.
I dream with heart aquiver, with spirit reclaim.
Dream, I dare not dream of denial of love.

She perchance bears love, Oh, but wait, this is illusory.
My mind profess this is merely fantasy, not capable of truth.
Eminence requisite of she eludes me, I declare remorsefully.
Fantasy, ruinous to my being, I decline as I am scarce of youth.

She floats, not as others of this globe, but ethereal indeed.
Could it be that she of untimely existence is made clear?
Could my love of beauty, of exquisite grace be too much my need?
Perhaps my mind deceives me; perhaps it is naive to expect one so dear.

I shall attempt an awareness, of my mind to be ever playful,
Leaving my being to create a vision of loveliness that can not exist.
This I shall endeavor but cannot pledge, for my mind is ever artful.
I must absolve myself this deed, for it cannot be helped that my mind persists.

Life Gives Death a Ride

Death is not the end-all,
but instead is life reborn.
Life and death are as one,
as are the moon and sun.
So why is life celebrated,
and death so filled with fear?
When death brings new life,
and new life is so dear.
So when death comes for you,
you don't have to hide.
Just remember, death leads to new life,
as life gives death a ride.

Care Less Not

With blood of blue
With attitude same
Of title life given
You breathe guilt and shame

To much you lay upon yourself
This your world makes more dark and colder
The world need not lie upon your shoulder
Find a love and in life hold her

You find yourself alone and scared
She's not there in your life shared
Free yourself and live your time
Why your here it is no rhyme

Its joy you'll live if you heed my word
To not live love would be absurd
Let life take you to where it may
Care less not what others say

Wakeup Call

We are but a single drop of life, in the sea of time.
A minor note played in a major symphony.
Not one, original in kind!
All that we are will live in infamy.

Mankind is not all we think ourselves to be!
Primitive in reason so.
Man could not have invented the tree.
But if asked, would we say no?

Why do we find ourselves in heavens world?
I don't think we even see!
We do not understand the curl?
In the end what will there be?

Senses

The smell of earth, of time dispersed.
The sight of gentle streams that flow.
I stroke green fern both soft and rough.
This all will soon be veiled in snow.
The kinglet sings life's timeless song,
As I sit watching doe and fawn.
All life is given beauty rare, for those
Who see, for those who dare.

It Rolls and It Rolls

Why does your hat never hit flat,
when a stiff wind blows it from your head?
It rolls and it rolls, like a wheel there it goes.
Now it's teasingly stopped just ahead.
Now I stoop to lovingly pick up my hat,
and the playful wind starts blowing again.
Well it rolls and it rolls,
like a wheel there it goes.
Mister Wind, you can have it, my friend.

Clouds

Ever artful in your lines,
ever graceful in your form
In you the love I've found,
in beauty you're adorned

With breath I take breaths heavens sent,
with visions dream my eyes do sing.
Send me your essence in subtle hint,
send me to places dreams may bring

Nature gives life worth to me.
Nature breaths life from the sea,
Floating over rolling waves,
floating free life's blood you save

The Endless Battle

My mind keeps thrusting me,
down, ever downward
into the pits of hell.
I struggle, begging,
please, let me be.

The beast ignores me.

I am tired,
So tired of this constant
fight for survival.
The high's, the lows -
they sicken me.

Maddened by the beast
that violates my every thought,
Angered by my feeble attempt
to control it,
The darkness keeps pushing,
deeper, and deeper
into my soul.

I reach for the light,
attempting to drag myself back.
The darkness owns me.
The beast consumes me.
The pain is too much.
I cry out, please, please.

No one hears.

Will I survive this time?
Not sure that I want to.
I'm never sure when
the darkness prevails.

When the beast is triumphant.

The Immaculate Forest

I know a place
where Douglas fir
yields cover for a
lush garden of emerald
moss, on a pallet of stone.
Creeping cedar spreads
to soften the forest floor.
Mushrooms grow from
trees long since fallen
to enrich the earth.
Dogwood and redbud
flourish in dappled shade.
Ferns wave proudly
on a gentle breeze,
Soft and luxurious,
strong and capable.
A stream in passing
delights the forest,
with soft songs of
its impetus journey.
Birds too embrace the
feeling of peace, and unite
to complete the melody.
Deer feed ceremoniously
on acorns fallen from
hundred year old oaks.
This place is an Eden,
Elysian Fields, Valhalla.
Where time passes
at its own rate.
Not to be rushed.
A place where love of life
is endorsed by all
creatures of God
who inhabit it.
This place is Heaven.
This place is
The Immaculate Forest.

The Old Man

The old man sat crying
in an old rocking chair,
in his old country house,
no one else was there.

His wife had passed on,
some years ago,
his son and his daughter
were too busy to know,

The old man passed
in his old rocking chair,
all-alone once again,
no one else seem to care.

He died all alone
on his ninety-fifth year,
his son and his daughter
did not even appear.

Now his daughter,
she died the following year,
and her younger brother
did not shed a tear.

The brother was too busy,
with his own life,
he only had time
for his lovely wife.

Now his lovely wife passed
in her forty-ninth year,
he was left all alone,
she was all he held dear.

Now the son sat alone,
on the side of the road,
looking over the valley,
his tears how they flowed.

I sat down beside him
and we started to talk,
he told me his story
as we got up to walk.

He told me about loosing
his beautiful wife,
and how he didn't think
he could go on with his life.

Now, I turned and walked
as I started to leave,
he said you look like my father
but that couldn't be.

He must have been thinking
as I walked away,
how his father was
alone on his final day.

He yelled to me, father,
please don't go away,
I need someone with me
come my judgment day.

I turned and smiled
and said son I must go
your mother is waiting
and I love her so.

Now an old man sits crying
in his old rocking chair,
in an old country house
with no one else there...

The Wait

I stand in dawn's illuminant haze
On season's glisten, floor I gaze.
Ah, there is sweet noise of hush
I've waited long since this I lust.
Greens of various shades take place
On rotting stumps in velvet case.
Sun bleeds through as clouds defuse
And old man winter stops to muse.
New Year will change the tales it tells;
Life lingers to celebrate spring's regales.

Beyond The Garden Gate

I came upon a garden gate
while walking through the wood.
Sun was shining on just that gate,
and I wondered how it could.
As I approached the garden gate,
I could not believe my eyes,
upon a rock by the garden gate
sat two little folk who fly.
They flew away when I came near,
straight up into the trees.
As I passed through the garden gate,
I heard somebody sneeze.
I looked left, and then looked right,
there was no one I could see.
This presented quit a fright,
I pondered what it could be.
I thought I heard someone say,
"Be careful what you seek."
I then looked down to the ground
and all around my feet.
To my surprise, what did I see,
but a flower that could speak!
I asked the flower, "What's going on?
What's happening to me?"
The flower said,
"You should sit down,
while I tell you what will be.
When you approached the garden gate
they flew up in the trees.
They're the one's who hold this place,
they made it what you see.
Here's where you'll live from this day on,
and you'll be just like me.
I came through the garden gate,
one day last year, you see.
Here's where I am, here's where I'll stay,
for all eternity.
It seems that many years ago,
a family did live near,
they worked so hard to build their home
and placed a garden here.
They had a child of eight years old,
who held this garden dear.
Then a man came and took the child,
and she never returned here.
Her mother's heart it did break,
she wished all men to hell.
She called upon the garden fairies,
'Please, can you place a spell?'
Upon this once loved garden gate.
the spell was placed with hate,
and any man who passes through
is here to meet his fate.
We can not leave; here's where we'll stay
in this garden filled with hate.
We can not leave we'll always live,
beyond the garden gate."

Stars Bleed Dust

Stars bleed dust of scattered light
Of quiet accent in the night
To distant places yet unknown
Of water, life, earth and stone
Oh romantic night of starlight beam
We sit and watch with silent dream
Of cosmic journey we'll never know
To worlds unknown we'll never go

Hazy Blue

A ship in the mist,
quite a ghostly sight.
Hazy blue rings silent true.
Not a whisper to send you on your way.
The ocean so still, so passive.
The currents share in the quiet tonight.
You drift along aimlessly,
no choice you can make.
Your sails not apparent,
you take your lead from fate.
Adventure you seek,
this will have to wait.

Come morn should the sun,
put wind to your sails,
to far away places,
new adventures, new tales.
For now as you sit,
in the nights hazy blue,
I'll sit on the beach,
with vast love for you.
So sail away captain,
come morn if you must.
I'll always recall,
hazy blue and the hush.

Lee Ennis was born in Yorktown, Virgina in 1952. He has worked in many places and done many things to make a living. At 18, he left home to become a musician in a rock band.

Throughout his years on the road, Lee was doing some freelance writing and photography. At age 30, Lee met and married his wife, Dawn. Since then, Lee has settled down and made his living with his writing and photography.

To learn more about Lee's writing, poetry, and photographs, visit his website, www.afreelancewriter.com.

Images:
Top: "A Difference of Opinion," Sir Alma-Tadma
Left: "The Los Angeles Arrival of l'anamorphose," Salvatore Dali, 1933
Center: "Birch Tree Walk," Igor Grabar, 1910
Bottom: "Sloop at Nassau," Winslow Homer, 1899.