Revolution: Impressionism

When critic regimented art’s calor

That brushes adhere firm strict lines

Upon the artist of life and times;

Then light was freed - grandeur smaller

As impressions in all color.

Wander is Not Lost

The carousel’s painted horse runs and runs

Circling round and round the stars and suns

Taking us to lands of many wonder-

 

Holding on to life as new spring flowers

Riding along the four winds for hours

While I looked for a long-lost wander.

Then magically your hand reaches beyond time

Of galloping years to find us back upon the climb.

Last Page

This room of darkness that sits

Upon me, a wretch in fear of myself,

Has nine circles – mirrored windows

That hold no healing reflection.

 

Instead, conforms letting in the darkness

With all consuming depression

While the voices urge a raw starkness.

 

This place, neither heaven nor hell,

Holds me trapped and imprisoned

With unlocked doors that will not open.

 

Nor do they close out the succubi

That screech me into a mad rage

And deafen my ears to your dear cry -

I must do this now; twist upon my last page.

General Boyd's B&B

Her beauty is simple but rich.

Her age is a timeless stitch

and her form creaks with reveries.

 

She keeps each her memories

close within her heart’s place

but sets them out at night

for tomorrow’s eye needs insight;

a wrinkle for a new day to a familiar face.

 

Her wooden floors speak and trace

of a grandchild’s first step

and a daughter’s wedding walk

down the stairway’s case

to hearth - where love is kept.

 

Her happiness radiates out;

Her contentment rooted deep about.

And at the table it says,

“House Happiness is Contentment”

Poem's reference

http://www.generalboydsbb.com/