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BREATH OF CONTENT
Only as the waters calm,
to glass,
with the stillness of wanting nothing,
can one see noonday clouds,
anchored over blue bay,
to distant hills.
Even the gentle sigh of waves,
have reached for the deep breath,
of content,
that marks the course of timelessness,
with the colour of forever.
BEACH HORIZON
Morning melted haze,
Crisp blue beach horizon,
Distant merge of sky and water,
Unbroken arch.
MAKING SKY
Ripped trees tearing fall,
Sky struck branches rattle,
Every which way piled,
Brittle grey arms lie,
Now in shadow,
Beside brother's branches deep.
More cutting,
Dismembered, chopping piled,
Waiting winter's frosty creep,
Now in warm brilliance stacked,
Damp musty under-green,
The first time mother earth,
Gentle breeze and sky has reached.
LULLABY:
BABY COME HOME TO ME
Someone sits in their car
below our bedroom window
engine idling
windows down
radio gently murmuring my lullaby
"Baby come home to me.
Don't you know I still love you?
Baby come home to me".
Bedroom window open
inviting rustle of blinds
distant traffic in background
gently whirring my lullaby
"Baby come home to me.
Don't you know I still love you?
Baby come home to me."
Still
new
sidewalk puddles
reflecting moon ushering drift
unconsciousness overwhelms my lullaby
"Baby come home to me.
Don't you know I still love you?
Baby come home to me."
GREY OLD BARN
Grand old lady,
silver-grey stoically standing,
in vivid field of rolling green,
gently drifting,
from the ethereal,
graspable past.
Standing firm,
in dream and memory,
on her thick,
stone laboured foundation,
my unswayable remembrance,
a beacon to the past.
Brimmed with cool, damp and dark,
ground level,
spider webbed,
perfumed with the aroma of time.
Creaky, broad and tall,
stairs led up,
to the bounty of life,
bound in bails of golden straw,
stacked beside bins upon bins,
of yellow corn.
From the past,
she gently nudges,
the fond memories,
of a gay child hood,
rapped in shoulder high grass,
always with her majesty,
firmly perched in sight,
night after night,
year after year.
FEBRUARY EVENING SKY
There is hope on the horizon,
with our setting sun,
5:05pm,
the amber beam of her brilliance,
still unset,
inches from disappearing,
over the blanketed silver hills,
of the still winter landscape.
Minutes later,
Venus and Saturn,
bright in the western sky.
Venus in her brilliant glory.
Saturn, a pin prick,
saddled fatefully beside her wonderment.
Both reflecting the sun's now set resplendence.
ME, A NAKED GOD
Me,
a naked god unto myself,
under the witness of calm,
naked to winter's stars,
booted footsteps squeak,
tentative music,
white moon crawled flesh,
stung, by -20,
Me,
a naked god unto myself,
worshipping and praising my myself,
pointing myself through time,
bear fleshed,
tingling white,
moon shadowed,
by tall trees.
Me,
a naked god unto myself?
Mortal? Warm fleshed?
Unseen by divine Life,
though touched,
by the invigorating presence of Love,
inspired at that moment,
by nature's breath,
the omnipotence of Spirit.
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