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Now come the whispers bearing bouquets of moonbeams and sunlight tremblings.
Aberjhani
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Aberjhani
Age: 67
Born: 1957
Born: July 8
Blogger
Columnist
Historian
Journalist
Literary Critic
Novelist
Photographer
Savannah
Georgia
Jeffery Jerome Lloyd
Love
Moonbeams
Bouquets
Whispers
Trembling
Bearing
Sunlight
Angel
Come
More quotes by Aberjhani
Know yourself fearlessly (even quietly) for all the things you are.
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We can cry for years but sometimes gotta smile too.
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I called it a baptism in flaming ink that forced me to shed my shyness about recognizing myself as a poet and to accept the fact that life had never given me any choice in the matter. And then I had to discover exactly what that meant.
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Movies can provide tear-inducing or comically-entertaining representations of love, but many agree that its deeper conflicting complexities often seem unfathomable.
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Someone had to embrace positive beginnings before anyone could celebrate successful conclusions or continuations.
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Christmas When Music Almost Killed the World
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All the world loves a ghost. The evidence of that simple statement can be found by looking in nearly every direction.
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Un-winged and naked, sorrow surrenders its crown to a throne called grace.
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A man sitting monkey-like on the rooftop of his brain is due the applause such feats earn him.
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History dressed up in the glow of love’s kiss turned grief into beauty.
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You are the hybrids of golden worlds and ages splendidly conceived.
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The issue, perhaps, boils down to one of how perceptions or misperceptions of racial difference impact various 'individuals', or groups of 'individuals', experience of freedom in America. Some would argue that it goes beyond hampering their pursuit of happiness to outright obliterating it.
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With my ninth mind I resurrect my first and dance slow to the music of my soul made new.
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The music of revelation announces itself to the reader in somber brooding tones or in melodies light as air and one is invited to dance with the most captivating of partners: poetry.
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On faith’s battered back calm eyes etch prayers that cool a nation’s hot rage.
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Stars ink your fingers with a lexicon of flame blazing rare knowledge.
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In a world gushing blood day and night, you never stop mopping up pain.
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Got just enough room to be a friend of yours. Oh I hope you got room to be a friend of mine.
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Each star is a mirror reflecting the truth inside you.
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Hope drowned in shadows emerges fiercely splendid–– boldly angelic.
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