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.

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.