Cosmic Understatement

 

Don’t look to find meiosis

in the eternity

there is nothing that is lost.

 

What you may understand

is, at the moment,

Understatement.

There were never

any senses; no matter

how common.

Framework

 

Find the pieces broken

From thy face -

For the fragments, compositions

Form levity-

Fanciful or frightful they are ridiculous

Fables within the human framework.

Disposition of Hydrogen

 

The travails of being elemental,

When the church of allotment calls,

Are both reductive and extravagant

Arguments for the circumspect

Balance between hydrogen molecules

And the universe of all reason

That states - value is abundance of utility.

Let the waters of life flow

To their source – 

A toast to the goldfish In the bowl.

Ruing of the Anemoi

 

Why do you live so carelessly

In endless holler and scream;

Flowing from the behemoth granites,

Across the snow-covered plains,

and to my front door.

Why can you not feel the silence

Beneath our baren canopies

and understand the deep sleep

of regeneration.

Your roars may humble the beasts

But these woods –

These ancient woods will come alive

Long after you have passed.

The Ruing of Bianca

The figure sits alone by the window

Upstairs in the house by the bay.

Day after day with nothing to say

To the closing horizon with a drowning sun;

The empty frigates and the tall ships -

They each follow along with silent lips.

As the daily procession of each morning

Pleads with the sky to reason with sign:

“Why! Oh, why has the sea

made a widow out of me!”

If she could only take back time

And return her wanderer’s rhyme.

The Ruing of Dorothy

 

With the first two notes, the heart fluttered

At the thought of that Summer of ’42 -

When death sought comfort in my arms.

And your heart lay on the floor -broken

Like so many glimmering seashells along the shore.

Telling stories of a lifetime that never lived

That now walks in, with a tattered book of poems.

A phantom of lost love

That resides in a book of verse

In cold reticence;

And I, in warmth, holding a book of poems.

The Revelry of Stardust

 

The Revelry of Stardust

Where pools of lucidity

Swirl - the undercurrents of opacity

And the senses are deplete -

Empty. 

The sails of joy lay still

in voids of movement and will

time and place abandoned; incomplete -

Idle.

The store of barrels – dry!

At long year’s end more rye

And barley spirits are need'd -

Full.

The albatross curse forgiven by a gust;

The ship’s company is blessed by stardust.

Let the consumption sparkle with hope;

Cheer.

 

Together

 

 

Even if I could give you everything

it could never be lovelier

than each day full of flowers

from your garden’s keep.

A day filled with butterflies

flittering upon your heart;

A day when gentle breezes

caress your pretty face

and play the magic of chimes

rambling their notes across the woodland

where there is so much to share

because there is unending love there.

And yet, each day is a precious gift

that we are together.

Jill's Joys

 

What does an artist do when there are empty walls?

She paints. She brushes. She carves and sculpts her forms.

She pours and dabs her stories into their frames

and the room empties of all empty;

Never-ever to be bare 

because an artist lives there.

Dedicated to my friend Jill.

Christmas Eve -' 23

 

As the steps of '23 draw to an end

We gather our thoughts to send

To those who will not be near

To hold & keep us  - dear.

Merry Christmas everyone - 

may you close out the year in good cheer.

Sequences in Poetry

A place is not what time leaves behind

Nor is time a thing one owns;

Moments are sequences we collect

Along the way of being lost to wonder.

Hey Brother John

 

Hey Brother John, what road is this?

“This road – this ugly old road like me?

It is the tracks I left behind; don’t matter. See

Me through old eyes, my youthful  plays,

My ways before the streets of bad days.

Time strewn into the debris of possibilities.

Now, they don’t bother me; this path of realities

Is my path to the wind is my new high!”

Hey Brother John, what song is this?

“This melody? This ugly old muse like me

Is like you;  don’t you see me?

Don’t matter to me as my heart is pure

And my soul knows you – that is for sure

That I can see days; days  I can count on

is the path to the other side; to a new dawn. 

For my song was; is my bliss.”