Tag Archives: poetry

The Meadow

where once I was a field of wildflowers

shaded cool near open plain

caressed by breath of winsome breeze

cooled by kiss of springtime rain

.

summer saw me serried and root bound

in servitude of crumbled ground

oh that you, young traveller

should find me, found

.

patiently in seraphic state

a scintilla of self, I did but wait

with drifting seeds

and scion stretch

yet autumn wasted

to weed…such wretch

.

for the dark, duplicitous skies

disturbed the dance of butterflies

and lured away, through savannah grass

far from my field

you then did pass

Words

oh yes I can whip the words
bring them to their knees
crack the cat ‘o nine tails
across syllables, diseased
observe the line break
conjugate, then subjugate
.
submerge them under bobbing apples
will they float as oily residue?
or settle into the murk where they belong
leaden lyrics of a funereal song
.
so swirl dust whispers in an airless room
letters catching the crack of light
then rest with mold on parchment tomb
lost of worth…
a translational plight
such volatile vapors
vexed by night
.
when words are shreds , untrue,obtuse
prepare the gallows

unfurl the noose

Poetry Knows

and what does poetry know?

how precious a grain of dirt you are in souless soils

sui generis; sacrosanct

how unique words tumble

in cryptic interludes with frantic gasps of reason

and you surface under the millstone of everyday

 

what does poetry know?

 to cast a saturnine stare

hoping someone might be there

to marvel the mess

of words, dishevelled, undressed

fused with bile, froth, despair

to show the you of gems

tentative, uncut

 

what does poetry know?

that you are lacquered

over volatile brush strokes

raw umber light with flecked red ochre

on a mildewed canvas

still needing time to cure

 

give yourself to the place by the window and breathe

my beloved…

poetry knows

Content

Melpomene* drums her fingers on my temples

and bites my lip with potent intent

observes my penury of writing

from her dour dominion of dissent

.

she reminds me of past anguish

rancid rhymes of fervid ferment

a melange of acrid reveries

bursting dams of dark lament

.

how then to explain, oh muse

a pen now dulled, infrequent

i’ve grown weary of the tumult

sybarite surrenders; senescent

this dearth of inspiration

corollary consolation

I am loved , I am content….

.

.

.

*melpomene is the Muse of tragedy

The Weathervane

i can promise nothing

i am a rusted weathervane

atop a crumbling church spire

spinning with random gusts

tethered tenuously by tangled wire

..

the shingles below marked by ferruginous stain

a sparrow shelter…a splintered domain

frail fledgling filoplumes gather

in the shadow of a chicane

..

i know not which way I will turn

aligning east, yet… how I yearn

to be free of memory’s corrosive burn

as sunset’s halycon hues

will my flaked metal

suffuse

..

 

Still Water

i came upon a wayward stream

and plunged therein

to choke a dream

and with intent to suffocate

and conscious self obliterate

lest ruminations fulminate

my flooded lungs did then deflate

i rise face up, in silted shade

my skin dissolves near everglade

becoming perch for dragonfly

in bloated state

my dream did die ..

 

Paradise

how can i talk of the night

when you blind me with moon

and star pierce my sight

when you tarnish my gaze

with firefly bright

an erratic flicker

pinpricks of light

..

Enchanted

..

how can you tempt with diffident day

soft sunshine sojourn; shadows will sway

in promise of heat, dare you take me away?

..

dreaming

..

of sand and temptation in turquoise seas

our luxuriant skin

under tropical trees