Summer sunlight.
We wake like all the rest—
Slanted morning.
Summer sunlight.
We wake like all the rest—
Slanted morning.
Woke this morning with thoughts of Winter playing in my head – and a sheen of ice outside my window that stretched from home to street and all the roads beyond. Reflecting on the beauty of the colorful Spring past, this little thing popped into my head:
Waiting to dream life
Color sleeps beneath the snow;
Wilts, but never dies.
A waking in a kiss
Cold lips in black light,
There is a life here that does not sleep
Between the sheets of memory, wrapped
She beckons and I heed, this endless
Obsession of souls, commands:
Drink these lips.
* Photography by Lisa Michelle Arhontidis, from her gorgeous photos and interview I conducted with her, as featured on One Stop Poetry.
These hands are not my hands,
How could they be
Baby blue, holding you
Swaddled, unmoved—
The wind was yours to claim,
I saw it, this past
Flowing reality of moments undone,
Webbing through existence see
You run, you sing
Let the ground give
Let the earth quake
And all rejoice, your howl
Resonant rebound through vibrant fields
Life, how I saw thee fly—
Impossible to reconcile
This motionless reality
To the beauty of my memory:
Where do you sleep?
Existential elation
The night’s revelation
Soul’s sweetest evocation
Mind longs to improvise
To sleep, yet rise
Above the lies
Until we admit
The body is unfit—
Do not think to hear it
To bear the broken madness
Never fail to aggress
This fairest stress
To break the blind
That stalks the mind
May yet free mankind.
* For the first Monday Poetry Potluck!
Sweet escape
The mind’s surrender
Serenade of oblivion—
I close my eyes
And it goes, goes
The world
Absence of thought
In the darkness of being
Silence
All reconsiderations
This mind is empty now—
And the stars may shine beyond
But this twisted moon is in eclipse
And I am sinking
Down into the blackest hole
Of existence—
You see me, but I
No I do not see you,
I think no more
Therefore
I am
Not.
This cavalry ride,
This noble stride,
Stretch wide upon the earth—
Trembling thunder underfoot
Amidst the shadows lightening fall.
Death rides before the tip,
Death roars beneath the arrow scorn
And in the quailing devastation
Moves the seeds of their creation.
Bodies bloom like spattered roses
But from the agony of annihilation
Stirs the flowers–flourish,
Such color rises from silent gray
The mass is fallen
The light arise
Entangled limbs stretch toward the warm embrace
Soothed into the slumber
Of revival.
Ask not the ends
Ask the means—
What comes, shall come again
In one form or the next.
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!
Star-crossed lovers lie
Snoring in the sand
Waiting on the rose-tipped caress
Of dawn’s fair light,
But the sun catches like
Little crystals in the waters
And they are sleeping through
The glitter and the glare.
The runner’s smile
Warms the streets as they rise
Amidst the shadows of red glare—
Early to rise
And early to rest,
Not like the frantic typing around
Those battered tables—
Early to rise
And early to work,
A desperate cry for more coffee is
As much a sign as these
Gleaming starlets
Carried in the sunlight,
Shimmering in the haze.
Dew drops beneath the leaves,
The covers dip beneath the waves
Of majesty and trees
Swaying in the breeze.
Birdsong, so ponderous in sleep
Uplifted in the daylight—
Just keep away those woodpeckers.
The body screams,
The mind elates
To greet this
Morning Elegance.
A significantly darker piece than what most of my recent work has been, just in time for the first One Shot Poetry Wednesday. Once you’ve had a look, check out One Shot Poetry, too–a bunch of great poets, looking to form a community and support one another. Enjoy!
Restless nightmares break,
From wretched slumber do I wake
To a world of endless night—
Thunderous choirs make me crouch in fright.
High above us wraiths now soar,
Men clasp their ears to deafen their roar.
Over hills and shattered streets,
The bands come marching to woeful beats.
A hundred thousand voices cry,
Then all the singers die.
Here’s number two!
Breathless gasps in time
Light the fires of midnight grace;
The eyes say it all.