Refuse in the oceans.
God’s things caught in its mire.
In a come-lately penance,
I think of small atonements,
futile fixes.
If a poem had power, had sway,
or could be born of a prophet,
sleep might come more easily.
Still, I count the sheep of days,
the fish in a river’s flow…
***
image: https://pixabay.com/users/a_different_perspective-2135817/
I have threads, vignettes.
Some fleshed out.
Others at loose ends.
This unseemly train has lost its brakes-
can’t stop at ancient stations.
Those sad confreres are left stranded,
waving.
***
image credit: https://pixabay.com/users/sjb3949-533112/
Were I to gather
the rarest of woods,
matchsticks in multitude,
and vintage amber lac,
I would set to the building of that Strad,
its secrets laid bare by an angel.
And in its voice would be your intonations.
And in its resonance, the beat of your living heart.
***
Photo: Eastman Strings
When I was alive,
you quickened in bright crimsons.
When I was alive.
(Image: Wasan Tita/Shutterstock)
Secret and silent-
the cold crackle of air with soft sparkles of gamma.
Opens my garage,
changes my channels,
excites the pocket monolith.
Away I want,
I think.
Away.
[Image credit: https://pixabay.com/users/analogicus-8164369/ ]
Being too-long hesitant
to mount the steps
makes one grow slipper-bound,
complacent in regret’s denial.
Greenish in hue
from watching the passers-by take to flight.
***
At some days’ end,
I feel as if I have stepped my last-
propping up this frame,
these unpadded shoulders,
boned as a scarecrow.
Dithering with the primal thoughts of a child.
Open-armed,
palms in supplication.
I bow down,
I do.
Image: pixabay.com
One’s been too many years in the building,
and what it shields may have lost its worth.
The other, I hold onto, as I walk,
in secret regret.
Slovenly sleep, or so it seems….
in the lightening shades of darker dreams.
Delicious lucidity, floating the soul
over depths of disturbing finality.
Let us stay in this state, where spirit flies,
where youth has returned to our watery eyes.
Still granted our wisdom, our memory whole;
a vacation from earthly reality.
In the glow of the warmth, where the cold never bites,
a candy shop counter of spirit delights.
Release and forgiveness, that’s been our goal,
and the cure of the pain of our malady.
I accidentally smiled today
it couldn’t have been clearer
I caught myself when passing by
the lavatory mirror
‘Twas you I hadn’t seen for months
your funny face appearing
I remember how you talked to me
your voice I’m always hearing
Your silly tricks amused me so
and then you’d walk away
and not look back, but I could hear you
giggle all the way
I wanted so to look you up
and have a little chatter
but you’d wonder why I’m chasing you
and ask me what’s the matter
Well, I hope you have a merry life
be happy and be free
I think about you when I’m sad
and hope you think of me
Aremyfeetofftheground 