This Rain

This rain
falling from grace
doesn’t cleanse.

It is an
acrid, acidic,
biting, bitter thing,
searing my soul,
leaving blisters as it
burns.

It is neither
purging nor purifying,
just a rage that caught
the dusty detritus
of a life lived
alone,
aloof,
apart,
yet with a longing
for vibrant passion.

A life weary with isolation,
abandoned tradition,
and sad resignation.

Unable to rise
from its own ashes,
it covers itself in them,
and tells me everything
will be fine.

Crystalline Quiet

Snow-swept,
these softened crags
belie their lethal silence
with a peaceful scene
of still and silent lakes
of ice, and mournful windsong.

The cold tranquility of the whole
speaks to something
inside.

A longing for beauty unattainable,
love yet unrequited but holding
a glimmer
of hope.

*************
An explosion of spring!
Life in hiding
resurging with new energy
of colors and songs

The crowning note
in the music of
our spinning world
among her sisters.

We welcome now
the challenge of a new
slow-dawning day.

Poetry’s Lament

Her sad eyes
looked into my own,
and I looked away,
unable to bear the weight
of her gaze.

How did you not know?
she asked.
“I never set out to do it,
not deliberately.”

And yet, it is a part of you now.
“So it would seem.”
Will you nurture it?
“I’ve little choice.
I’ve written way too many now
to turn back.
I don’t think they’ll let me anyway.”

That seemed to bring her comfort,
and she smiled
as I wiped
her tears away.

I would have hated to leave you.
“I would’ve hated to see you go,
but peace now, Poetry.
I’m not leaving, so
come take my hand
and open your gift.”

Sleep Like Rivers

Sleep assaults me

at every turn,

and I fight to stay awake.

Sleeep comes in torrents

of soft, warm water,

with the gentle gurgling

of infants

surrounding me with

tranquil eddies

of tenderness.

Sleeeep comes in droplets,

pelting me like a

wind-driven

sideways rain.

Sleeeeep sluices

down from the stars

into my room,

a cozy closeness

of presence

that sings in the voices

of those

who’ve gone before me.

Sleep like rivers,

like bones,

like dreams

of sleep…

I lose the sweet fight.

Goodnight.

Cobwebs & Raindrops

Those ideas that drift

down

into your mind

in the small hours,

 

The images come

like refracted light

in raindrops on cobwebs

after the storm is passed.

 

These mental photos

etched in words,

but no less

an essence

of captured time.

 

Caught like raindrops in cobwebs,

a symbiosis

of water and silk

that slip away from your mind

in the

light of dawn.

My Moody Muse

She hides when I look for her,

sometimes playfully,

or shyness,

and sometimes, out of fear.

 

Looking right at me,

she’ll smile

all tease and seduction,

and ignore my beckoning.

 

Sometimes she cries,

and steps out of my embrace,

and nothing I can say or do

will console her.

 

There have been times, too,

when blood was spilled when

we’ve made war, then love,

and sit together writing in the

quiet places of our hearts.

 

Sometimes apart,

but always

united.