I AM GARTH-FROM-SEATTLE!

So consider this an invitation...

made to fit the situation,...

of your fateful visitation,...

to this realm of rumination,...

where oft I toil without cessation ,...

steeped in depths of concentration,...

searching for my heart's libation,...

(that which prompts a soul's elation)...

lost truths found for celebration!

AND.....

As I recite this invocation,

in poetic conversation,

stop in rapt consideration,

now and then, when leave is taken,

of the dogged dedication,

needed for the whole creation,

of an artful presentation,

as befits an artist's station,

requisite for your persuasion,

A loving cup of thought creations!...

made with sheer imagination,

and a little determination,

on this, a most auspicious occasion!

OPTOS RHUTHMOS

by Garth

IMPETUOUS YOUTH is a fleeting glance at things we don't consider,...

OLD AGE, a haunted backward gaze at both the sweet and bitter.

WISDOM cocks discerning brow in sober, piercing looks,...

IGNORANCE mounts a glassy stare above forgotten books.

FRIENDSHIP is a knowing wink about the things we share.

HATRED knits a brooding brow above a vengeful glare.

FEAR is failing eyesight when we cannot see our way...

COURAGE is bespectacled...and steel-eyed in the fray.

Hungry is UNBRIDLED LUST in all-devouring leers...

Half-starved is UNREQUITED LOVE amidst a wealth of tears.

HOPE looks through uplifted eyes at what we may not ken...

DESPAIR,...a shadowed, downward trance that lasts the length of "WHEN?"

WORK is but a reddened eye that still has much to do...

LEISURE is a restful gaze that ponders something new.

LIFE is rubbed, half-opened eyes that greet a dawning day...

DEATH is but a dreaming eye the night has swept away.

The FUTURE's a surprising blink, soon upon us 'ere we think...

The PAST,...a pool of memories...our mind's eye loves to drink.

LOVE is total blindness when we see things with our heart...

TRUTH is mirrored in crack'd reflections lies have torn apart.

So much of what we see is so much of what we are....

The COMEDY,...

the TRAGEDY,...

...the FlAWLESS....and the MARRED,....

...a life of varied spectrum for every boy and girl...

...whose eyes peek through...

...the human heart's...

...kaleidoscopic whirl.

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Beauty is fleeting as roses in bloom,...

And flowers in places where nature finds room...

And lasts but a season, then whithers away,...

But dying she whispers: "I'll come back some day".

Each blossom unique and so perfect in form...

Withstanding the sun and the withering storm.

Such startling symmetry beckons the eye,...

To gaze on divinity seldom so nigh.

The artist must take his own life in his hands,...

To draw near perfection whose fires command...

An unholy sacrifice deep in his soul,...

To worship a goddess not meant for the role...

For she is but fleeting as roses in bloom,...

And flowers in places where nature finds room,...

And lasts but a season, then whithers away,...

But dying she whispers: "I'll come back someday".

by G. Arthur (GARTH) Edwards.

It was a dark and stormy night

with wind and rain and lightning bright...

and no one ventured out their door

for fear of things from ancient lore

that dusty books, so seldom read,

described in language (long since dead)

about such things that chill the heart

that should we hear a single part

quill-penned in blood by mystic sages,

arcane magic in their pages,

breaching time and memory

to still our autumn reverie

and beckon to the curious fool

who tries to bend the ageless rule

and write these words by candle light:

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"It was a dark and stormy night

with wind, and rain and lightning bright..."

and should I hear a knocking light

upon my door in dead of night

I'm sure to revel in my fright

For lo!,....It's Hallow 'een tonight!"

That's all folks!