" Flowers of the Seasons " Nakamura Hochu c.1800

Japanese summer
Lilacs scenting the garden
Reaching for the sun.

V

posted by V @ 6:46 AM Comments: 15

COLDPLAY "FIX YOU"

posted by V @ 10:04 PM Comments: 7

" The Triumph Of Despair "

On fertile soil
within our mind,
the demons feed
subconsciously.

Burrowing,
seeking thoughts
of self reproach,
munching on our
ugliness.

Though dormant,
they gather strength
and present themselves
in dreams.

Ah! child,
when the nightstorms
gather,
driving you to wakefulness,
the ego feels their pinch.

Shapeshifters,
the demons smirk,
presenting their power
in thought;
obsessive, circular,
enveloping.

Day becomes night,
life seems an illusion,
despair triumphs,
the ego cries,
cowardly.

V

c 2005 Deabler, V.T.

posted by V @ 8:57 PM Comments: 7

Ayn's Multiple World: Just for V :)

Ayn's Multiple World: Just for V :)

posted by V @ 6:43 AM Comments: 2

Ayn's Multiple World: Just Testin ... because playing is fun!

Ayn's Multiple World: Just Testin ... because playing is fun!

posted by V @ 4:18 AM Comments: 4

Letters To My Daughter: We Have A New Rocker! Ya-hoo!

Letters To My Daughter: We Have A New Rocker! Ya-hoo!

posted by V @ 7:36 AM Comments: 2

" WORDS OF LOVE "

A Writer writes,
He loves in words
struggling.......

I see your face
the pictures various
like snapshots,
a gallery.

Nature surrounds
you, crouching
studying the creek bed,
a little delight.

The ripples move across
your smile.
Fishes become you.

When I`m with you
nature becomes backdrop
staging, the scenery
to your Gestalt.

The look of you
caressed,
lying next to me
sated, plenteous.

Your lips invite me,
eyes closed, restful.
My tongue nears your ear
speaks to you.

Can you hear me
speaking through my tongue,
a language I`ve seldom shared,
the taste of you, a whisper.

posted by V @ 4:38 AM Comments: 10

Coldplay

posted by V @ 7:57 PM Comments: 2

A POEM

Death is that which hovers

wherever people are.

That knowledge of our finiteness,

that makes us human

and produces our neuroses,

is also what drives us to write,

and all our attempts

at immortality.

posted by V @ 7:39 PM Comments: 6

The Parting Entry on my AOL Journal

MY HOMAGE TO THE AOL JOURNAL COMMUNITY
Taking the idea from Theresa Williams` Journal,{http://journals.aol.com/theresarrt7/TheresaWilliams-author/entries/933} I`ve decided to leave an entry that reflects the sadness that I feel about watching the diaspora of the AOL community. This is the poem I wrote as an homage to the AOL-J community on our 1st Anniversary; it continues to reflect my feelings towards all who have had the courage to share their lives and souls with me. Love and Prayers. V.






"Metamorphosis"

The tiny worm hatches,
searches the net for sustenance.
She feasts on Pogo
gapes at Google
plays with Pics,
Windows Media offers refreshment,
but she`s still a worm.

How can she grow
find the cerebral food
to become a caterpillar?

Aloneness continues,
her only friends are Amazon and .coms
trying to sell her a soul.

She inches upward to Hometown
tastes a web page
and sees a friendly face
beckoning her to AOL journals.

Tentatively, she enters this strange world,
Butterflies are everywhere!
life is there to taste;
prose, poetry, paintings,
the sharing of souls,
of heartbreak and love.

She devours everything in sight,
grows and grows
A fine caterpillar she is
having feasted
on the butterflies` glorious wares.

Ah! It is time to rest
she spins a cocoon around herself
and sleeps in wonder.

Can I be a butterfly too?
can I be as pretty
as the wonderful
Monarchsof Journal-land?

She emerges from camouflage,
mothlike,
she says hello,
and is welcomed by many others
Floating and flitting
touching her little nest.

She grows bolder,
ponderously taking flight
and finds no judgement
of her faltering attempts,
only encouragement, and love!

She becomes a butterfly,
offering what she can
to other, newer caterpillars
finding a butterfly`s true nature
the metamorphosis complete.

Vince Deabler

posted by V @ 8:44 AM Comments: 13

" MY GALLERY "

GALLERY

Sitting in a cold, dreary office
a desk piled with work present past and future,
as life`s seconds tick endlessly onward
My mind returns to you.

Time slows and stops
then reverses, as mental pictures
[the portraits I draw best]

Burst upon the scene,
are hung with care,,,,
and gazed upon
in the privacy of my gallery.

posted by V @ 6:19 AM Comments: 3

" ONE`S NATURE "

Born in late winter
I peeked at March`s
roaring lion.

Some friends showed
an inkling, a budding
the adventurous ones.

My Mother, feeding me,
whispered
"Nature is always such,
sentinels must be sacrificed.
The Goddess Hera demands
payment for Her warmth."

I close my eyes
`til showers come,
my Mother`s milk is flowing,
pouring into me.

Then I stand,
prideful and strong,
my family branch
a bloom of green.

Birds alit,
butterflies aflutter.
I find myself smiling
as my nature
reveals itself.

V

C 2005 Deabler, V.T.

posted by V @ 7:51 AM Comments: 5

DracuLucky !!!!

 

posted by V @ 3:30 PM Comments: 7

" THERE`S SOMETHING WRONG WITH HER "

There`s something wrong with her
A certain sadness, lingers in the air
Pronounces her passing,
as clouds conceal the warming rays.

Lifelong burdens, never truly gone,
The grimace in her sometimes smile
reveals the weight of destiny.

People question her activity
the glee she sees in mural`s lens
captured one by one
and every day a symphony.

Yet lying down at night, alone
awaiting Somnus` divine repose
She cannot help but think of things,
denying life its happiness.

The nights are endless, yet
an inkling, a spark is kindled
from the beauty
a mural allowed her.

In reverie, she thinks
of butterflies and flowers
of children`s smiles
of moonlit nights
and stars divine.

Awakened with a start,
a smile upon her lips,
she stretches like a kitten
her thoughts in happiness.

Perhaps the mural
brings focus to her life
What is gone is done
and Art is happiness.

V

C 2005 Deabler, V.T.

posted by V @ 8:36 AM Comments: 2

" INTUITION "

Woman,
born with that
drivenness, that
need
to experience the
world.
To be defined
by it.

Open to affect,
her feelings meld
with impressions;
senses define
existence.

Her world is Color
overwhelming
movement,
valuing the wonder
of experience,
not its definition.

V
C 2005 Deabler, V.T.

posted by V @ 11:23 PM Comments: 5

" THE FIRST ARTIST AND SHAMAN "

Killing tools honed,
nomads
follow the herds,
never settling,
in homage to the instincts
of their prey.

Full bellies belie
a need,
a demand within,
to become.

Women`s berries
and intuition,
feed an idea
which allows the toiled soil
to sustain us.

Fire conquered
the cave warm.
A measure of safety.

Finally, time to ponder
learning to speak,
communicate.

Within, the self
sees its end,
recoils, confused.
God`s gift at Eden
a two-edged sword.

A new emotion,
not of want,
but sadness and fear,
exudes itself
to fill the cave.

Finally, inexorably
mortality is faced and conquered
as the first artist
draws of triumphs.
Deer and bison fall,
despair is vanquished,
bowing to sublimation.

V
C 2005 Deabler, V.T.

posted by V @ 11:12 PM Comments: 0

Letters To My Daughter: Since 2:30: Let the trip begin!

Letters To My Daughter: Since 2:30: Let the trip begin!

posted by V @ 4:27 PM Comments: 2

I am a recovering AOL Blogger.
V

posted by V @ 4:22 PM Comments: 6