Eulogy for a Wheelbarrow

 

Eulogy for a Wheelbarrow

She sat, as always, in her natural beauty

With alluring gems and minerals to offer

A grand scene beyond a painter’s brush.

Her mountains caress the blue from the sky

And her playful winds send the galloping clouds.

While brooks and streams turn rivers into channels

Of life and more - flowing to the seas.

Then enterprise found Nature as a prize

Sitting to be taken and settled to mine

Away her wealth and her beauty for the sin

Of wealth beyond survival and for ambition.

Alas, they were careless and lost paradise,

Leaving strewn a wheelbarrow; abandoned dreams.

For the quest of beast and all nature – it is lost.

(Photo by Julie Munroe)

Expire

If you were to expire -

What relic could keep an empire;

What moment-of-change must transpire 

That contains such a wretched – choir.

If a candle were to expire –

What place should be the empire;

What endless darkness must transpire;

What voice shall become a holy – choir?

If you wish to expire;

Should too -  the unholy empire;

Should all your words also transpire?

For the endless silence shall quiet the choir!

If Father Time refused to expire

Should we seek throughout the empire;

Should we see that curse and glory are about to transpire;

Should we make the sage and the obtuse become the – choir.

If Truth’s keys and noted-emboldens flourish upon the choir

And the old kingdom remnants – transpire;

Shall there stand a new realm - of an ethereal empire?

Pray - pray for the day;  for time is set to expire.

Friend or Fiend

 What cost has this casted belonging?

It depends on your reflection of it;

Does it suit your need to hold on to vanity

Or perhaps, a collectible for your insanity?

Do not be rude or bid ill wit!

What value is there in this reflection?

This golden alabaster of attraction?

Forgive the query – no need to have a fit.

Merely wondering if the mirrors reflects

Your worth or if it merely add more affects.

Perchance, did this alabaster mirror ever pit

The hands of death as they became the eyes

And in the mind, the reflections of seven score of lies?

Were I a jester or pretender – I could say in whit.

However, I am merely your humble assayer

And thus, fear not what you see – you are the slayer!

I shall wait then for you to find me a quiet sit -

As this requires a very naked image

Of the forms and thoughts of old age.

You will find privacy in that mirrored tit

Then what hath happened will become apparent

That thee - is more ethereal than transparent.

Dance to the Stillness

 

Should troublesome times beset upon thee

Stealing halcyon days from diary

Then is when one must swallow all fury

And wait for a heartbeat to be jury

To the paradox that is the stillness

Of movements in the deep dance of darkness

Where turmoil churns loudly the emotions

And quietude of the deepest oceans.

With every breath there is silent pause

A musical note; a poem’s silent cause.

Stillness implies chaos and abides life

As floating in peace or beset in strife.

    Tranquility is a war of the heart

    and mind; only stillness may choose the part.

Sonnet 218

 

There are reasons to set off to the seas

Or travel across continents searching 

for dreams; following adventures in breeze.

Every Spring’s vow is full of hope bursting

To grow; to prosper in nature’s harbor.

 “If you are going to San Francisco” 

Wear flowers and dance in total ardor;

Summers are long - so dress in calico.

And in the winter, when the currents change;

As winds race across the cradle’s holding

The days may turn into years as strange

As a vertical carousel’s folding.

A classical molding into a stage

Of waxing and waning forces containing

All things inward - away from the sea’s wage;

For the bay seems still while storms are churning…

        

        Never intended to be here always. 

Now the sea beckons: saying come away.