The Sparrows Flight

I drift along the currents of air,

With no fear of potentially falling.

My world, the clouds, are sprawling;

The sky, azure, is my daily lair.

Tiny wings, lift me to my dream.

Tiny sights are what my eyes see,

When swimming in the deep navy sea;

At least that’s how things seem.

My back is bronzed by the sunlight,

While lying upon this windy beach.

The beach, to humans, seems out of reach.

They stare up, while they sit below and write.

In my mind I am, off, far above.

Following my own calling,

Without any further stalling;

Flying after my truest love.

 Alas, with two feet, I must come down;

To feed on things, on trees and ground.

Still, this is a small price to pay,

To fly in dream clouds every day.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker

Primordial

Within a large, devoid, empty void;

The person I was, was destroyed.

He was consumed and constrained, by Chaos and Nyx;

And filled with more fear, than within the depths of Styx.

In obsidian anguish my old being would stay;

Lead by Erebus, forsaken, eternally astray.

He wandered in sadness guided by loneliness;

Devoid of all happiness, filled by hopelessness.

There was no Hemera in his blinded sight,

As he restlessly traveled the binding night.

Then, I met a being of implausible, divine might;

Called Aether, who gave unto me, discerning light.

Illumination and radiance, provided my form, with rebirth;

Giving the new mortal, also, an over-abundance of mirth.

I was taken from the depths of Tartarus, the abyss;

Leaving behind all my past fears, and all emptiness.

I returned to a familiar, yet new foreign land;

Known as Gaia, and issued a new command:

The light whispered “Seek Eros”, into my ear;

And my new Anake became completely clear.

I searched down below, and looked up high;

On the tan ground, and in the sapphire sky -

Yet, Eros was not found, and after years I let out a sigh.

That`s when a being beyond profound, heeded my cry.

Uranus filled my weary, worn eyes;

And said “Eros wears a clever disguise -

See beyond your perception, which all too often lies,

Look within yourself, for there, is where Eros truly resides”.

Looking within I found these words to be utterly true

From that day forward, I felt even more brand new

I used to live, only with the desire to try and survive;

Now with love of oneself, a burning fire, I feel so alive.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker

"Mon Cheri Ami"

Some days the happiness,

Seems so far from here;

But, it`s always so near,

The source of blissfulness;

Was right inside the mirror.

Past the eyes, the windows;

Past the mind, happy wind blows;

Straight into the heart,

Dwelling place of something dearer,

The birthplace of a magical art:

Love, love, and admiration!

Love, love, what a grand station!

It courses through the veins,

Numbing all pain like novocain

It`s the drug of particular choice;

If only these words had a voice,

They`d shout like fireworks up high!

Thunder of love, sounding in the sky.

Love, love, and admiration!

Love, love, what a grand station!

Love is not an elusive spy,

It moves openly for every eye.

There`s no killing love, it won`t die;

Even though many people often try.

So be grateful for what love gave:

It showed death`s hidden door,

And handed us, the key to the grave.

Gave a gift worth so much more,

Than most foolish ones, ever noticed before:

Love, love, and admiration!

Love, love, what a grand station!

Love lead hearts to creativity;

And there they dwell for eternity,

And there they shall achieve immortality.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker

The Word

If these words could make all happy,

Then, these words definitely would.

Use phrases and structures, so sappy;

To change hearts from steel to wood.

So, when the fire came to burn

Instead of fueling it onward;

They would feel the heat and learn,

Strengthening them moving forward.

If these words could somehow, possibly quell;

The raging sapphire river of negativity-

Then these words would use a symbolic spell,

To make it a peaceful sea of creativity.

So, all who felt oppressed when life,

Beat them to the ground with hand;

Could sail on the sea, from strife,

Into a more pleasant, verdant land.

These words would bring joy to others,

Neglected sisters and fatherless brothers.

Sadly these words just can`t wave a hand,

And these words know they can`t command.

But,

These words know which word can meet the demand:

The Good News, God`s Word, it will and it certainly CAN.

Composed By: A. D.

Lonely Smiles

A smile is premium gas

The heart, is an empty car

Giving the engine class

Letting the auto, go far.

Hearts can drive for many miles

On just a few hopeful, caring smiles

A glad grin given to a person heartbroken

Can take that heart quite a great distance

Even if the heart doesn't hear things spoken

It will be filled with amazing persistence. 

Composed By: A. D.

Penance

Wrongs are constantly rubbed into a criminal`s face.
The sound of a faucet, the onyx dust stings like mace.

Washed away with liquid fire,
Burning and scaring in the mire.

Exasperated, two worn soles;
No emotion in the socket holes.

Except, loneliness and barren regret;
Every memory, wishing to forget.

Perceived by all as arrogant, and naive;
Wishing his mortal essence will leave.

Unforgivable, misunderstood, misrepresented;
Each purposed crime, doubles, not relented.

Thoughts trickle, then race; through his mind.
Haven`t all committed a crime of some kind?

As if criminal spends every day, maliciously attempting,
To conjure ideas to drive the citizen into retreating.
Like the grim, taunts, anger, abuse, jeers and shit falling
Into the drain, so too the criminal feels hope depleting.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker

Silver Lighting

In the developing obsidian night

The pale paper provides light

Every single letter laid down

Causes the magnitude to grow

The ivory becomes a silver glow

Enveloping the entire reception

Under each new verse`s inception

This poet`s night light is all-around

Revealing every phrase – profound

The light will always be able to show

Things the dark will never know

The sheet is filling with illumination

A shimmering, sterling infestation

Can you just sense it surround

Admire with astuteness, as it astounds

The way it glistens and flows

All the beauty it can expose

It`s resplendent inspiration

The miraculous manifestation

Can`t you observe it compound

No matter the moments timing

Paper always offers a silver lining

Composed By: Andrew Drucker

A Reader and A Writer

The night has once again fallen,

But the hopes continue rising.

No reasons to be sad or sullen,

A new evening is on the horizon.

Keep the joyful feeling

As close as is possible.

The deck life`s dealing

Shows nothing is impossible.

No matter how many trumps,

Are being steadily played;

No matter how many lumps

Others have already laid...

(Even if one foot`s within

The cold lonely grave)

...Never let life just win

Till every ounce is "gave".

Let the rest have eternity,

This very moment - it`s ours.

Every blissful second,

Belongs to you and me.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker

The Eighth of the Seven Sages (The Keys, Part II)

The Poet had mentioned an ancient key.

Honestly, he must spread the cipher;

Easily and openly, for the others to see.

Simple and plain, for others to decipher;

Amazingly, these elements are readily found

Unexpectedly, there were many all-around –

Residing within two simple books,

Upon stores shelves, if only one looks.

So The Poet, began without a sound;

AND

Described the sacred simple solution;

Invoking the tomes where the answers lay -

Conveniently, without any poetic confusion

Thinking, another might need them someday.

“In a bookstore or library, is the calculation.

Open them to alleviate poetic frustration.

Not in fiction or non-fiction, check another preference

Among this area, the keys you’ll find, get the reference?

Really still confused? Dose this jargon make you feel abused?

You might want to ponder the: acrostic, a device poets use."

By: Andrew Drucker

A Gorgeous New, New York Morning

The morning has begun,

The moon is fully set;

Off to its slumber,

Without any regret.

The sun is yawning,

Her sound is golden rays,

Illuminating and warming

All our sunny days.

The trees and grass,

Stretch in the loving wind.

Shades of green and emerald,

Prepare for the day to begin.

They`ve rested all night,

On strong brown bark beds;

With no cares for today,

In their photosynthetic heads.

The winds smile;

As they prepare, practicing,

A natural concerto;

Fit for any terrestrial king.

A sparrow searches

For its morning meal.

Mother Nature`s store

Let`s the bird steal.

The wide light blue sky,

Is gazing around and down;

From up high, with loving eye

Revealing these sights, to you and I.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker

The Grind

There are so many different, important occupations;

Found in passing faces, near the 23^rd st. subway station.

Each individual reveals a different

Job position, which they represent.

A pretty woman with a smile

Strolls with a graceful pace,

Headed with pure style

To start her morning race.

A strong man in a three piece suit

Moves briskly along,

To find the occupational root

Of his hearts song.

A whimsical mature lady smokes,

Her long elegant cigarette;

With all her carefree tokes

She ponders with no regrets.

A wise, well-lived, gentleman

Stares happily at the sky;

Grateful on this day, that he can

Just live and is getting by.

A porter, cleans the grounds;

A teacher, teaches children;

Security guard, makes his rounds;

A preacher, says “sins are forgiven”.

Two infants chat in carriages,

About life and their marriages.

A dog pulls her master,

Barking out “let`s move faster”.

The police proudly serve and always protect,

Bringing safety to all, by responding to every call.

Doctor’s and EMT`s do the impossible and resurrect;

A man depressed, and tormented, from his deadly fall.

Firefighters fight, risk their life, to quench with ease;

A once lethal, destructive, dangerous fire.

Military members give their life, deployed over vast seas;

To defend our freedom, from enemies, without tire.

Politicians work diligently to correct

Various unfair, unjust laws;

 Fixing definitions still imperfect,

Cause that is their cause.

Artists steadily, unselfishly develop;

For others, their forms hope to envelop.

So, when each piece is unveiled

We can experience part of their world;

And when we gaze upon their arts,

Might receive some joy in our hearts.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker

Each Day Is New

Sometimes people will pass, laugh, and insult;

If you let them affect you, what is the end result?

Some may claim they want to fight, by why even begin to fear;

If they truly wanted to dance, why does only chatter appear?

(I know avoidance seems like cowardice,

There are times when, even I feel like this).

Avoid, (unless they attack you)

Even if it makes you sad and blue;

If you fight and maybe win, you lose

For your hands will still receive a bruise.

Don`t let them get you down, with words;

Leave the squawking, for the arrogant birds.

True strength is not in the hand,

But in the will at your command.

Smile when it`s darkest out;

In the cold, lonely, black night.

For, if you do, when the dawn comes about;

The new day will never be as bright.

Do not fear the end,

For it will have it`s way;

Only try to spend

In good time, your time today.

Above all else -

Be of high hopes and good cheer,

When unhappiness does appear;

Cause when joy you outwardly send,

You`ll find happiness becomes your best friend.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker

A Shipwreck

The happiness is only found

In the empty, barren sound:

Which envelops all around.

Within this page, soul`s bound.

There is a joy in hopelessness,

A strange and empty bliss.

The ship that sailed this empty sea,

Was found shipwrecked, unexpectedly.

Thunder and lighting, a foreshadow

Of an incoming destructive shadow.

This was followed by an onslaught icy rain,

The chill numbed the surviving man`s brain.

He was headed initially for new land

When the bold captain assumed command.

When storm appeared, the vessel was already lost;

And the sedition and starvation had taken its cost.

Now, the incoming deadly squall;

Ominous, sent by a demonic thrall.

The hull was sturdy, sound,

As the storm began to surround.

The decrepit remaining crew; were salty and true;

And yet, still found to be fearful as the storm grew.

The waves, of deep blue, began to swell,

Within the eye of storm, a glance of hell.

The brazen captain rallied the men, to “hold the line”;

His voice compressed, by taste of the savage brine.

The pressure from each proceeding wave,

One by one, took the crew to their grave.

Black was illuminated completely clear and bright;

By howling, resounding cracks, and flashes of golden light.

Of all on-board that painfully now remained:

Captain and first mate, on wooden the frame.

The once fine, limber, timber;

Creaked as it began to splinter.

Chilling rain coalesced with frozen hail,

While splashing surges rent ship frail.

Broken planks of crafted wood

Abandoned the ship for good.

The plumb set mast

Was horizontally cast.

Poseidon was still deciding

Fate of two still surviving.

Zeus sent a blast of light and thunder,

That wrought the wreck asunder.

To the liquid, the craft began to sink under;

Slowly, to conjoin with the lockers plunder.

Two souls were tossed in the torrent,

Of the abysmal, unrelenting, raging current.

Cerberus was foaming at the mouth.

Waves foaming tossed the men about.

The men held each other’s hand,

Devoid of hope, they`d reach land.

In their demise, they cried and screamed aloud

Calling out to God, tempest-humbled, not proud.

The ocean provided no quarter,

The captains’ breath, it would slaughter.

The solitary first mate was left, as the storm died;

And reaching land, he felt ecstatic to have survived.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker

The Dove

Drifting away again on a blank

White sheet. Caught in a tank,

If only the eyes were asleep;

In the blissful, sound deep.

Tried to satisfy a love

That proved only a dream.

The Raven is a Dove

Travelling free and serene.

Only to be shot out of

The cerulean sky above.

Perceive it`s piercing cry,

As it falls down to die.

Less is now left.

The wings are cleft.

The deep blue ocean, bereft;

The mortal blow was deft.

Hopes are no longer seen,

Fresh is now soiled unclean,

Shimmer hast lost its glean,

Nice has become mean,

Attractive loos repulsive,

Rational is impulsive,

Perplexing is instructive,

Creative breeds destructive.

I take one white feather, 

And it to my soul I will tether.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker

Spider Webs

As the sky grows violet

Thing nocturnal appear

The world grows violent

Day creatures fill with fear

This spider comes alive

In the quickening night

Under the moon he`ll thrive

As his dark silk starts to write

In a web of darkness

Steadily he makes toiling progress

Spinning his creation from nothingness

Underneath Luna`s kiss

The web is primed

The fabric is spun

Strings are rhymed

None are undone

Prepared to capture

Any who venture

Into the black haze

Of this spiders maze

Composed By: A. D.