Skylight Afternoon
September 25, 2012

SKYLIGHT AFTERNOON

Voyeur beams of sun shafts
Through the skylight play,
Dance on heavenly bodies
Embellishing sensuous display
Of love, and rapture, of life-breathed clay
We are but dust, delicately ordered
Arranged in ethereal style
Lost in mutual wonderment
Each others’ gaze beguile
Dreams of lovers all the while
With consensual inspirations
Of symphonic orchestration
Our movements flow as honey
Sweet and thick consecration
Filling voided years with our oblation.
We are but two in seas of destined pairs
Cast off by others who withdrew loves claims
Lonely, lovely, filled with gratuitous gifts,
Our Diogenes-search with separately guided aims
Divined us along parallel fames
Whose grandeurs are only seen through soul-mate eyes
To love, to hold, to please, to comfort, and to give
Today, and today, and today, as long as todays shall live…

Ashes
September 24, 2012

ASHES

Now another torture,

Greater than the first…

Will ashes burn??

I see my pile, neatly swept

In the center of an empty bedroom floor,

Surrounded by so much space.

A summer breeze sneaks under the door

Lapping at the edges of the grey heap.

Some fragile flakes flutter upward,

The remains shudder a collective sigh,

Too deep for words,

Too dry for tears,

Too quiet for almost any sound at all,

Sit lightly and heavily on the cold wood.

I remember when the ashes had substance,

Movement and life, smiles and laughter,

All manner of good will.

Yes, I remember.

Do those sparkling green eyes

Still behold this mound of disarticulate mud?

The lips are both wondrous and dangerous.

Wondrous at the velvet caresses on my former self,

Dangerous that they hold the very breath

That can blow these ashes

Into a cloud of dismembered passions.

I cringe.

I am waiting….for a kiss….or an exhalation

I cringe

And hope.

Lightly
September 24, 2012

LIGHTLY

Lightly did she stand before me
Lightly come, and lightly gone.
Her presence like a wisp of willow
A faint breeze brushing my mind
So fleeting I couldn’t catch her
So pure I dared not touch her—
A scent and laughter,
Breath of gaiety, hinting jubilee
Summer’s cloud given form
Only by thought caresses.
I yearned for her to stay.
Other places beckoned her.
She was lightly come, and lightly gone.
Here I wait on her tomorrow—

DREAMS
September 21, 2012

DREAMS

How sweet the dreams that dress the night
That fire one’s heart with brief delight
Undispelled by morn’s first light
And breathed throughout the day.

Sonnets poured from poet’s tongue
Heart’s miseries and joys are sung
On which his hopes and fears are hung
His soul bared on display.

And you, the Golden Haunt of dreams,
The Mystery lure of scented steams
Vapors formed to contoured schemes
Morosely held at bay.

How long before my self awakes…
An empty room, save bleared opaques
You, lost again as dream forsakes—
Carpe-Diem–Seize the Day!

Stone Man
September 3, 2012

STONE MAN
That onetime heart of clay
Molded to everyman’s whim,
Brought sunshine forth as day
Contoured by reverent verses of their hymn
Reaching deep to other’s inner selves…
The smiles that leapt forth
When he spoke and queried
Just how are you—really?
Is your sorrow truly buried?
The Empathetic Soul
Stretched out like centipede runners
Searching, always searching
The life-giving water of another’s hurts.
Meeting the red of anger
And the blue of tears
With painted desert colors of sensitivity.
Years have worn him down.
Desiccated souls insidiously sipping
Until the clay heart began to dry and dry.
First it was the humor that left.
Then the happy lines about the eyes.
Tired – oh, how tired – or was it ennui?
Finally someone stopped long enough
To knock on his heart…
It knocked back – the deadened sound,
Soft, yet deafening – of stone.
That passerby jettisoned the stony heart
Like a shot-put.
It rolled and came to rest
In a shallow wet puddle of someone’s tears.
It sponged the wetness dry—
So thirsty for all we thirst for—
Then softened – just a bit – enough to notice.
To notice itself
To notice those tears disappeared.
A smile crept on like dawn
Pushing shadows away in the early morn.
Time again, and another time.

Fair Lady
August 26, 2012

FAIR LADY

Fair lady of heart’s summer drought
Who slakes my thirst like Spring rain
Soft and delicate her fabric,
Her covering lines every gentle contour
Her skin catching evening’s sun, turning
hues
Prism-like into a palette of pastels
Few sights have drawn such yearning…
Few moments given such pull
To simply reach and touch so rich and
velvet skin—
Just to touch and nothing more.
Such gentle face and laughing lines,
Parenthesized by dimples,
Calls forth my own joyful laugh in
response.
If I had her for one starry night, all to
myself—
What a wonder to see those tiny
sequins,
Canopied light, sprinkle lightshafts
Down on her golden hair—
It would only take one such breathless moment to assure me
I would lack nothing by spending the
rest of my time
Just so–a captive of that very time
capsule—
To laugh, to love, to live.
You are the stuff from which dreams
are made—
It is you…yes, it is you…it is you.
If she would turn to me and look
For one brief moment, I think I would
melt,
And if not I would remain some clear
substance
For her to grab and hold.
At once she can see clear through me.
Would that it be for who I want to be
And not who I am…

Fair Lady
August 26, 2012

FAIR LADY

Fair lady of heart’s summer drought
Who slakes my thirst like Spring rain
Soft and delicate her fabric,
Her covering lines every gentle contour
Her skin catching evening’s sun, turning
hues
Prism-like into a palette of pastels—
Few sights have drawn such yearning…
Few moments given such pull—
To simply reach and touch so rich and
velvet skin—
Just to touch and nothing more.
Such gentle face and laughing lines,
Parenthesized by dimples,
Calls forth my own joyful laugh in
response.
If I had her for one starry night, all to
myself—
What a wonder to see those tiny
sequins,
Canopied light, sprinkle lightshafts
Down on her golden hair—
It would only take one such breathless
moment to assure me
I would lack nothing by spending the
rest of my time
Just so–a captive of that very time
capsule—
To laugh, to love, to live.
You are the stuff from which dreams
are made—
It is you…yes, it is you…it is you.
If she would turn to me and look
For one brief moment, I think I would
melt,
And if not, I would remain some clear
substance
For her to grab and hold.
At once she can see clear through me
Would that it be for who I want to be
And not who I am…

Rainfall
July 24, 2012

RAINFALL
Torrential rain shouts at me
From my windshield
Deafening, blinding
Awash after thirty miles of free fall Suicidal to final impact
Now lying in limp puddles
Reflecting dark clouds above Glistening brightly jagged bolts
Deaf to their resounding voices Ready for rolling, round rubber
As final dissipation.

Flowers open their mouths
Drinking wetness
Perspiring fragrance
Smiling in color
Swaying under pelting massage Calling dinner to butterflies Dreaming of the gentle teen
They will adorn as bold corsage. Rainfall.
Life again eternal.
Called by the sun
For another journey.