The Gunsmith’s Song

I narrowed the world with scorching air,

a cave I stalked into earth’s bosom lair

echoing with its iron song

where no foreign hand belong.

I weighed my lungs in the choking air,

it laid the foundation bare

with the sinking burden of its flight—

a flash of light, and swift goodnight.

Years drift through the sulfurous after-air

Buried at the point of its timeless snare

Bent, unbroken on its stark crescendo

Lost to a brother I should never know.

(And for the more fantasy/full book inclined, don’t forget that there’s just one more day to get in on the FLASH SUMMER SALE currently involving The Hollow March, the first novel in my Haunted Shadows series. Don’t let it pass you by!)

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May Means Binary Explosions

Don’t mind the O

it’s just the last stop before the crow

spring-topped shower in all its finery

coded delicately for its binary

debut, in the showers and flowers

rising up like sandy towers

no blood where they lay,

just another seedling for the play

of petals on the fettered den

the nightly contrition of the zen

tools trailblazing incisions

into springtime’s timeless revisions—

they’d say we’re all within a trance

if our bulbous natures didn’t love to dance.

Predelictions

Awake

–            Alive

–                     And still

–                     Flightless

–            Forged

Forsaken

In rote

–            Renaissances

–                                    Written

–                                       Generations ago—

–             Genuflect

Genetics

In the Beginning

Génesis (Photo credit: ‘J’)

Common is the misperception

God broke the Darkness with the Sunlight and the Trees.

More accurate to say the World’s conception

began with Words:

“Let There Be Light” was simply

Nature’s Poetry.

 

(Hello all! If there are any Fantasy lovers amongst you poetry people, I would also recommend checking out my announcement from earlier this week. At Faith’s End, the sequel to The Hollow March, has just been published and is now live! Check it out if some of the shiny bits and pieces on this site catch your fancy.)

To Write: Love and Creation

Writers hold worlds in their hands. (Not my creation!)

Time is the writer’s friend. Strange to hear, I’m sure, but it’s true. Deadlines and date may be the staple of the craft, but for all the stress time heaps about our heads, it remains our greatest treasure. Day after day, we practice our craft, we hone it, as one would any other skill. We are possessed by it, in libraries and open mountain air, beside the hearth fires or lounging in the bustling street-side cafe. We love it. We hate it. Time strengthens the bond, strengthens the craft..

And lets us create:

“You must write every single day of your life…You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads…may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.”
~Ray Bradbury

Stooped Celebration

"The Bootmaker," image property of Rob Hanson.

Stooped celebration

Thread by thread

Stringing out the walkers

Life of leather—

Toiling at the standing grace

Of other souls.

 

Breaths ride the strands,

Divinity locked in rasping labor;

Noon passes stained glass

With a smile—

the hands know but the one song,

they cannot sing it with regret.

* My latest work for One Shoot Sunday. Based on the prompt from my interview this week with HDR photographer Rob Hanson. Be sure to check back in next week as well, for part two of the interview and more of Mr. Hanson’s lovely work.

Quotes for the Writer

This week’s Quotes of the Week are ones that appealed to the poet in me: the first made that poet sing, and the second made the poet grin for the sad truth of it. I know I’m not seeing any money in the future of it, but then, I knew that going in. If you’re writing just for money, after all, you’re doing it wrong…

Rainer Rilke. From Wikimedia Commons.

Jules Renard. From Wikimedia Commons.

“If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for the Creator, there is no poverty.” ~Rilke

“Writing is the only profession where no one considers you ridiculous if you earn no money.” ~Jules Renard

Over-Saturation

 

Photo by Sean McCormick.

It is a rush—world—

Nothing holds not still above the

Colored creations of memory.

Years in the making the foundations

Sound and solid arise yet

Time bleeds into the framework,

The tumble of tumultuous tints tingeing like

Rainbows bursts of blown out washers –

We don’t forget, but the lines they

Blush against the battery of luminescent life –

We color detail till it all seems dreams,

And the world it circles and it sighs

And we’re rolling in the dyes of little lies

Watching change day by day.

Just beware of

Over-saturation.

* My submission to the latest One Shoot Sunday Photo Prompt, with that lovely barn/grainery shot provided by one Sean McCormick, a Canadian Photographer that is the focus of my latest interview for One Stop. Great guy, with some truly stunning nature photography…it absolutely breathes with life, history, and all the shadows of memories gone before. Have a look when you get the chance, and check out all the other poets inspired by the prompt!

To Compose

Causing pain

is the nature of the note—

the pianist sits, prepared for murder

 

in operatic trespasses

he hears the Valkyrie ride,

her spear the thrust of baritone blast

 

piercing stars, like silver tears rain

 

It rolls down to earth,

 

a Resurrection, a stirring in the madness,

this flurry writhe:

a man might grow hollow on the glee

 

Destroying and Rebuilding—

Creation in the up-tempo swell,

 

but he cannot afford to think—

all crumbles to analysis.

* My latest contribution to the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays! Once you’ve had a look, check out some of the other One Shot Poets as well–they’re a skilled bunch of poets, with a strong and supportive community.  Enjoy! And while you’re at it – vote for us in the Shorty Awards…we have a chance to take Number 1 in Art!

An Idea, A Muse

I dub thee Goddess Moon,

Patron of the painter’s boon

Mistress of the writer’s swoon

–

The world could circumnavigate

This trait, you call thy state

But they would only desecrate—

–

That holy word, this blurred

In bitter flight, bird

I am certain they should call absurd

–

But here you are, a smile

Resting yet upon the winds of wile

Of your fertile guile

–

Merest notion

Of my dearest heart’s devotion—

This world is not yet ready for your motion.

My latest contribution to the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays! Once you’ve had a look, check out some of the other One Shot Poets as well– they’re a skilled bunch of poets, looking to form a community and support one another.  Enjoy!