In the relative presence of all things
of matter and of the ephemeral
realities that contain the conflicts
between the forces of impermanence
and the eternized human condition;
time sways the pendulum in motion
close and then, just beyond a desperate grasp
to hold on to a breath’s last gasp.
Within the masterful walls
Well beyond heaven’s lines
Dwells a soul who dines
On Eve’s sweet kiss upon his vines
That hold and ease his pain
Whilst time abides life’s reign
Of fruit wrested from paradise
Sitting at the portal from whence we rise.
Friends are like leaves
They come and go as the eves-
Flourishing in the spring
And then falling like a broken wing
in the chill of autumn air;
A colored and dead affair
Of a season run its course.
It can be no worse
When winter’s whitened place
With its placid face
Against the stark stand
Of a lover’s cherished tree
Holding arms bare of thee.
There is reason of hope
To endure and cope
Of death’s terrible reign-
To believe is not insane,
As I will always love you just the same;
Can anyone see me; this was our blame...
There is a time of a poem
When there is no firm a term
Nor fact of intelligent germ;
Of wasted allowance
nor of invested compliance.
As it all will fall into a wistful tome
Of a life once lived long, in a certain
Place, where sinews always made gain
Against the aging physics of pain.
And when one must now regretfully forgive
The reality of a mind’s purple veil of misgive.
When the oceans rise in waves
Upon the warm sands
All the days of our stays will change
And the darkness that surrounds us
Shall keep you in quietness
For all the time of our parting
Until time shall bring us to
The ocean’s place where we lived
And died.
How true you were when you promised
That you’d never leave
And that I would never need to find you.
Your breath is in the air-
Your essence is in the water-
And the fragility of life-
Is the very reason we have loved forever.
The ant walked across the hill
Of sugar – how else could it feel?
The bear slept to keep hold
Until spring’s urgency lost cold.
The man lived all the reasons
To satisfy time for all seasons.
Yesterday; tomorrow? Nothing else
matters.
Being now, sun, stars dark… no one gathers.
In the virile days of spring
Young men - strong and pure
Go off to wars of unknown lure.
Whilst the horns and bells ring;
Jingoistic echoes and songs always noble.
Naked skins in guise of crisp green
uniform;
While politician with wagging tongues
spit ignoble
Truths to wage and stage an ill form.
In the dying days of winter
The aging soldiers sit in wait
For time to return an abated fate.
Before the line of white crosses splinter
Across the green fields filled deep in
loss
Of the fallen who found peace before old
age.
While all insanity stares in for cause
Of a life left to ponder in dark silent rage.
Age pursues each day
as if time were still
and the years - they
wait a minute’s will
to disappear
into a dream or a fear
while the third eye -
holds all in deny.
At summer’s end two gatherings were found
As the heat of the cool night’s air surround
‘tisan’s rooms of art, lit and pour pure confetti
And music and the party swirls all around-
The ‘burbans sit near the fires of petty
Exchanging between tattlers and cutters.
While the tunes blast away at the white shutters;
Harmony warms while the cold sits in shudders.
Where do you dance daughter of the moonlight
After the music stops and calls prince night-
Does the sun’s heat insist you take a path
Far beyond a weighted prosaic death
Or do you wait the night’s mid call-
To create in oil paints of enthrall
While the blackbird sings to arise;
Behold - a blossom’s moon eyes.
