Kairi’s Serenade

Kairi comes down

by the

moonlit water

to play for

me

on random  summer evenings

 

Not of this world any longer,

I cannot hear her,

but I can see.

 

Ah, there she is.

Fair and dark are her features,

Dark and fair is her song.

 

Spinning, playing a bright flourish,

she smiles at a memory,

and I feel the press of its

warmth against my molding bones

as if she hugged my spirit.

 

I wonder if she feels

my presence?

 

At times, when she plays,

there are tears.

 

I long to take them away, to

wipe them tenderly

and tell her all is well,

before we kiss,

before we part.

 

I hold onto that moment

that never was,

never will be,

and it will ever have to be

enough.

 

As Kairi turns to go,

the melody is severed,

and the notes are interwoven

with the stars.

I feel what I can only call

a smile pervade my being.

No, there will be no tears tonight,

just the song, dark and fair, it’s plaintive echo

traveling through the lichen covered

headstones of the forgotten, as Kairi, fair and dark,

vanishes into the mist, and over the hill.

Chrysalis

Within the dark green chrysalis

I see the torchlight’s glare.

As I walk down the flame-lit hall

I feel the demon’s stare.

He’s hidden and he’s silent

but he’s watching all the same.

He’s changing into something

that will want to play a game

of cat and mouse and hide and seek.

I’m not up to the task.

I’ll have to kill him quickly,

so no one will ever ask

Who won the battle tween the two?”

I’ll win it handily,

And slice the chrysalis apart

and finally be free.

When There’s No One Left to Cry

In the empty room,

she sits alone.

The snow pats at the window,

and the wind bumps against its panes,

but she ignores pristine whiteness.

There were snowballs, sleds and snow angels, long ago.

 

In the park she sits amidst

singing birds, solo saxophones,

and new blossoms full of hope

and virgin fragrance, budding with the

hum of the earth in their stems,

but she ignores the music.

There were picnics, finding robin’s eggs and holding hands, long ago.

 

Along the rainy path she walks in the evening,

when people are home, drinking coffee

and kisses from lips, warm and safe and dry.

The broken umbrella hides her face, and the

rhythm of the raindrops beats to the

racing of her heart.

She ignores the water.

There was jumping in puddles, closing her eyes to listen,

and sticking out her tongue to taste the water, long ago.

 

Standing at the bridge, alone in the misty twilight,

she stares at the red leaves clustering on the riverbank,

as if the tree bled its branches bare.

Vibrant with their true color, she ignores the fallen foliage.

There were bonfires under the stars, the admiring of

deep colors, holding them up to the gold and crimson fire

to see through gold and crimson filters,

and sipping hot chocolate, long ago.

 

And now there’s

no one left to cry,

to cry with,

to cry for,

to cry to.

And so,

she cries

for them all.

Beauty Like Rivers

I love

your tranquility,

your clarity,

your smoothness,

your purity,

your brightness,

your changing moods

like shifting currents,

the sparkle of your eyes like

sun diamonds on peaceful water.

I love the dark somber mantle

of a reflected moon in your dark hair,

a midnight lake of cascading curls

that eddy about my ears when you

look down at me,

and the loam smell of your bare skin

against me.

I am

an autumn leaf

in love

with a spring,

drifting away on your

beauty like rivers.

All My Everything

There’s reason to go on, they say.

Just take it slow and day by day.

But see, I know I’ve lost my way.

And no, my friend, it’s not okay.

Good intentions, noble hearts.

No avail, my life’s in parts.

Some are missing, some are old.

Tarnished is the burnished gold.

With a rueful smile I see

There’s no getting back to me.

So with what remains, I’ll go,

Hat in hand, a so-and-so.

What’s that, friend?

You’ll say a prayer?

Does my heart good

that you care.

Thank you for that.

Leaving now.

God don’t answer

why or how.

Still, I won’t say no.

You pray.

Say it as I

walk away.

Love you too friend,

don’t you cry.

Don’t think I’ll be back

to try

starting over,

learning new.

Time is short,

and days are few.

Gonna watch the sun go set.

Come with me, and pray, and let us

share that moment,

knowing why .

And when the sun sets.

So will I.

 

Winter Fire

I remember the

white snow

swirling in the wind

to the bass drum of

thunder far above,

striking the dark slate clouds

that sparked with silver blue

lightning.

 

I remember the regal green pines

staunch and statuesque against

the crepuscular gloom.

 

I remember the firelight

just so,

making a nimbus of

your hair.

 

I remember thinking: This holy being holds my heart.

And my love leaped into

the fire,

and grew warm as

the blush of your cheeks

when I kissed you,

and you took my face

in your hands to

kiss me back,

igniting torrid feelings

that shamed the

winter storm,

and made the fire a

pale and sickly

imitation

of what we share.

You are

my winter fire,

and we will never be

extinguished.

 

Sifting Shifting Sand

All my duties come to naught,

and as for all the things I bought,

I place the high-def screens in

front of things that really matter,

 

And put the things that really matter

inside the screen.

 

Pictures of family

Pictures of memories

Pictures of successes

Pictures of loss and regret

Pictures of friends who lost

the battle to live forever…

 

And today,

here I stand

utterly alone,

wrapped in sullen silence,

chilled by cold thoughts and

ironic imaginings

of what might have been

after all this time.

 

Sifting shifting sand,

unable to find what I deemed insignificant

and buried,

only to realize all that

ever matters

is the life you’re living

 

Now.

Making Warr (new chapter)

Check out the latest chapter of Making Warr.

He’s in WAY over his head, but that’s where he thrives…

 

Making Warr:

Warren Bradley was retired, the victim of a failed experiment that not only would have increased his strength, but his intelligence as well. When a decision is made to re-launch the project, a botched attempt to bring him back in by force results in his wife being killed. 

He is now determined to obtain and destroy the information that led to her murder, and get the people responsible.

There’s just one problem: The information’s been stolen and taken overseas. And an ex has re-entered his life on the side of a rival agency. And the chemicals in his system are starting to degrade. Okay, that was three problems…

http://channillo.com/series/making-warr/

Softly Sings the Summer Storm

Softly sings the summer storm.

Silver raindrops from above.

Harmonies in quadriform.

To my heart, the song is love.

 

Softly sings the summer storm.

Holding hands, we gaze and smile.

On our skin the water’s warm.

Hoping that it rains awhile.

 

Softly sings the summer storm.

Tenderly I kiss your lips,

as the raindrops swell and form

pools and puddles, drops and drips.

 

Softly sings the summer storm.

Sunshine’s for another day.

To the path our steps conform,

Love is showing us the way.

 

Softly sings the summer storm.

Here together, you and I

hear the music now transform

to a soughing summer sigh.

 

Softly sings the summer storm.

Darkness looms, so home we tread.

Raindrop shadows multiform,

as we tumble into bed.

 

Softly sings the summer storm.

In the darkness, I and you,

now a lover’s dance perform

in our own storm just for two.

 

Softly sings the summer storm.

As we drift into night,

Slumber soon comes all aswarm.

Storm is over…

Love is bright.