Always, the renewed
return to the earth.
These coins
tossed in the well
are hard-packed and
slow to learn
that time washes
wishes
away,
and has its way with us,
in time.
Category: Blogging 101
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 from her sweet 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.
Honey on Her Lips
And when she turned to look at me,
the light hit them
just so,
just so,
so soft light
made soft petals
of her soft lips,
and the drop of honey
gleamed like a dark jewel
born from dark fire.
A scent of flowers on her sweet breath,
a sweet drop of an amber diamond
on the tip of her tongue.
I moved forward to taste it, take it,
plunder the sweetness within
from her.
She turned and ran,
laughing as I gave chase
for the rest of my life.
Ever in past longing,
ever in present, seeking need,
ever gloriously lost in far away,
right here and now,
with the honey
on her lips.
Quilted
Patches of good times,
pieces of bad,
quilted and stitched
in the life that we had.
Remnants of memories
sepia tones,
yellowing love ages
into our bones.
Did I do this thing
or did you say that?
And does it matter now
love has gone flat?
You sit in your chair,
and I’ll sit in mine,
alone and together,
and lost in the wine.
Arguments, fighting
familiar as dust.
Then after midnight
it’s make love or bust.
Time to be quiet,
even our sighs.
As silence settles
we watch the moon rise.
Tomorrow then, we will
remember this day,
more fragments of memories
to put away.
As life gets more peaceful
the older you grow.
the sun lights your quilt up
with just the right glow.
Write ‘Til The End
Dust now settles on your soul.
Body crumbles, health not whole.
Vision fades, waking slows.
Page stays blank, writing woes.
Have you no more words to say?
Have they left and flown away?
Or are you a lazy sot?
Leave them buried, let them rot.
Words were lovers you embraced,
now it seems they’ve been replaced.
What intangibles are there
that make you no longer care?
Light the fire, feed the spark.
Don’t leave words there in the dark.
Deep within they stir the heart.
Far from you they’ll never part.
In the mud of mind and soul,
use the words to make you whole.
In the war of flesh and heart,
words of wisdom make the art.
In the dance of life and death,
write them with your final breath.
Dreamscapes
The sun sets,
life leaks away
and the reaper’s
silver scythe is
heralded in silver hair.
Time watches
from a distance,
its steady gaze
holding your eyes
as it keeps pace
beside you.
The dreams you pursue
grow translucent
in your hands,
and there are days you can’t be sure
if it’s them, or you,
slipping through your fingers.
It may yet be that
you are one and the same,
but one has to stay,
and it can’t be
you.
Beneath a Starless Sky
Beneath a starless sky they sail.
The black waves sing a song.
They serenade the ebon sky,
their voices loud and strong.
The ship of seasoned sailors
chose to brave them all the same.
Beneath a starless sky they sailed
for fickle fortune’s fame.
The waning crescent moon no help
to navigate the sea.
It watched the skimming bow cut kelp
and rose indifferently.
The sailors didn’t count the cost,
and so they paid the price.
The black waves and the crescent moon
had caught them in a vise.
The ship went down,
the sailors drowned.
The town folk whisper why.
The crescent moon,
celestial scythe,
will cull your soul
to die.
Beyond Panic 