A Rose by Another Name

A Rose by Another Name

She stepped cautiously down each broken stair

That once, she could fly up and past in leaps and bounds

With winged feet and red flowing hair a fire

Her veins flowed blue from a heart without a care.

These long years now have taken full fare

Upon those green eyes that glittered with light; now veiled rounds

Dulled by a labyrinth that says everything by revealing nothing,

Her sharp words, whispered in a graveled throat, smite

(the ruins of countless Camels and cheap whiskey shots)

“Am I not the shining star -you came to see on this moonless night;

Have you been here before - when I was a slightly better sight;

Do you not see that what you see in me - is your own fright?”

The Inn of the Rising Sun, with empty rooms, holds prisoner the Argonauts

That came to conquer their youth; they all checked out but could never leave.

Rose by another name danced her Mary Jane dreams

And sang all the songs of self when there was so much celebration

While whirling and traversing about in her sea colored boat

Twirling her dress of white silk and a multi-colored ramie coat

As she leaped out the window of her mind so to float

Falling from heaven’s grace down upon the streets of desperation

Where the Rose, by another name, cries out in blues of hesitation.

What Rhymes with Time

What Rhymes with Time

At the end, a fourth line reads: A Poet - Here lies.

In this place of death where the plots

Are laid out in grids and numbered by lots

Separating those souls of wealth with their majestic tombs

From the poor ones, whose only richness was life’s dire wounds.

And there too, resting in peace a wordsmith - forever buried by whys.

Walking along the outer and inner edges of quietness

One’s pace slows at each marker that reads that life

Was lived between begin and end; there was a son and a wife;

There was Confederate soldier killed in the Battle of Tupelo  

And, there was a woman who walked this earth 153 years ago;

Setting nearby, a baby born and died on the same day - in stillness.

The Junipers stand alone in twisted forms as if in mournful wailing

While the Sallows group together, down by the old pond, sadly weeping

Seemingly reaching down for the yellow evening primrose creeping

Along the water’s greenish surface where a knot of frogs hides

And then, a thought leads to a reason why one never chides

The dead nor wails at their passing due to life’s failing.

Instead wonder - What rhymes with time?

Then gather all the words very carefully;

Place them together impeccably.

Chose each line to build the account of one.

Form the stanza that will then stand - forever done

And that ends with: a poet lies here - with no more lines.