Butterfly on a String 

Reconciled

to write

as

I do

a

strange twist of fate

for

loving

you.

Embracing that

you

be elusive

yet

cling….

Like

a

butterfly

on

a

string.

You offer hope

as a candle

shining brightly

in a

darkened place.

Life

has not

been

kind

but

you’ve never been one to complain.

Always pushing forward

keeping

your priorities straight.

You….

whose

love

has risen

above the fray –

A truly quiet
and

gentle soul…

Lisa

is

her

name.

For Lisa

#butterflyonastring
#blackeagledream

All Rights Reserved

Copyright is mine 12/25/2017

Measured Lines _

image

Style is measured
in
increments
of
time.
Some people
write,
some people
rhyme.

A
writer,

a
storyteller,

a
keeper of dreams;

it
really
all
feels
the
same
with
me.

Words
are
the
boundary
lines
of
our
very
existence,
our
lives
measured
in
the
path
we
take.

Malcolm X knew,

image

Martin Luther King too.

image

When
we’ve gone
our
words
will
remain,
celebrated,
or
not.

So yes
write;
and
to
yourself
be
true,
yes
write
until
the
pen
does
bend,
and
the
warmth
of
the sun
is
not
felt
on
your
face
again,
any
more.

Link

Y>our Fears

Life
as a rule,

never
turns
out
the
way
we
hoped
it
to.

But if you live your life
with
clarity
and
purpose,
you
begin
to see.

Like
the
tolling
of the
bell
in
the
Square that calls to me.

In time

we
all
must
go
there,
to
embrace

our fragile humanity.

We
are
much
closer
to same

then

further apart,

depending
on
the types
of
seed
we
cultivate
in
our
heart,
the
source
of
all
y>our
fears.

#blackeagledream

All rights reserved. Copyright 2016

Kohala

image

O Kohala

the place that my grandma knew,

and her mom,

and her mom’s mom too.

Dense dark forest

filled with

hidden

meanings and mist;

crowd

my dreams

when I think of this.

The orange lava

of

Kilauea

glows brightly in the day.

image

Downward it does go

marching relentlessly

to the sea,

preparing for

an

epic battle

with

an

ancient enemy.

The

glow of fire

reflects

off

my eyes

as I beam at the marvel of creation….

image

But

alas,

it is

this…

Waimea

of

old

that I do miss,

yes longing

for

her

misty

morning kiss

to

caress me

in

her loving arms

once

again.

image

And

as time moves ever forward

and I continue

to fade

it is

in my mind

that I travel back and forth

each

and

every day;

sometimes as a boy

but most times as a man.

The years do pass – people don’t last,

as I continue

to cling

to a well worn

and

tattered dream.

What

does

it

all mean?

From the mauka
to

the

kai,
when

my

journey
is

complete;
in
Waipi’o Valley
is

where

I

will

sleep.

image

O Hawai’i nei,

embrace me

as

your native son

as

I

slumber

in your arms

until

that

promised day

has

come.

image

For my Grandmother, Annie Lincoln of Kohala, Hawai’i. I haven’t forgot you grandma.

Written by Kawika A Stafford

All rights reserved.

Copyright is Mine

#blackeagledream

Unfolded Vanity


In

my face,
i
dare
see,

a lifetime

etched
in
glassy
blue
m
i
s
e
r
y.

How
it
is
reverberant

this loss,

this gain,

living
a
life
of
unfiltered
pain.

Down
i
do
go,
to the unmarked
place;

striving
for
things
that
have
no
face.

Happiness

and

Joy

i

have

met

once

or

twice,

hollow

words;

they seem real nice.

My
smile feigned,
sheltering
the
torrent
of
my
tears,

nicely

done

down

through

the

years.

With
my
mind
I
do
see,

everything

and

everyone

that

has

been

lost

to

me.

Ah,
the
unfolding
of
my
vanity.

Chasing
the
wind
in a
desperate
place,
happiness
itself
it
does
escape;
leaving
me
to
grasp
for
shards
of
joy;
in
a
life
of
unfulfilled
dreams.

I dedicate this piece to my coworker, and friend
Mr. Antonio Guevara, aka Tony G.

RIP TONY G… April 1st, 2016

#blackeagledream