With my soul at peace and my thoughts at rest,
standing in this winter wilderness,
I whisper words of heartfelt bliss.
Come with me and walk this path.
Together we tread against the freeze,
and find the warmth of tender grasp.
My devoted being shall forever be,
a place of strength against chilled winds,
a brilliant light only you have seen.
Our lives have met in this quiet space.
Let sky meet land and rivers merge.
Forever, harmony I long to taste.
We have summoned light from darkest days.
Heat returns to melt still ice.
Each day length now brings stronger rays.
The deepest snows cannot hide the facts.
Beneath these layers life holds fast.
Newfound joys spring from bleakest past.
Let's rebuild life from broken dreams,
Where life restarts with each new spring,
the snows will melt to feed fresh streams.
Like this land, my passion runs free.
Walls have come down with earnest words.
My unblinded eyes now see.
I ask for your hand without ounce of gold,
or shiny stones dug from filthy earth.
My eternal love cannot be bought or sold.
Under peaks reborn of volcanic scars,
In night's serene and starkest silence,
I pledge love to outlast the multitude of stars.
Solitude I turn from on this ride.
Today and tomorrow let's walk in stride.
Promise to be my utopian bride.
Wolf And Owl Take Shape
Smoke and red cinders rise together in retrograde simplicity
On counter rotation, winds sing through birch and oak
Marbled moon remains sour yellow through the ecliptic edge
Cryptic night, where owl and wolf find warmth and cover
Nestled in the coarse blanket warn by Tabitha, the young one
Her tribe sleeps through winter
She holds them in her mystic spell, mild heart and smile
They breathe cold mist together in history hallows
Unfolding cold reveals their open eyes
Reaching out into the distance as wolf howls
Unknown mysteries of life feel their kinship
Heaven opens up to them crisp on the fire light
Wolf moves his wool but only slightly in a twitch
Owl takes flight, returns alarmed
Back to the blanket and young girls arms
It rests with comfort feathers by her heart
Wolf and owl take shape, Tabitha smiles
They all take one long last breath and hold it in
Wait till spring to release it again below the mystic stars
10/17/14 Free Verse, Prose Poetry, haibun – Poetry Contest
A solo pilot, lost in snow,
in a jagged mountain pass,
his eyes are trained upon each tree,
and the shape of each crevasse…
In an open-cockpit time machine,
the winter wind does howl,
but a mighty fire’s burning bright,
inside the engine cowl.
The fog and flurry blinding him,
he searches for a trail,
running late, and miles behind,
he’s employed to fly the mail.
He looks for clues to lead him back,
like ancient, sunken wagon tracks.
A mumbled cuss, then shouts out loud,
he’s heard that mountains hide in clouds…
Now’s the time to pay the toll,
for conversations with his soul.
One way in, and one way out,
it’s true that mountains hide in clouds.
Copyright © 2013
Serene and silent the head caresses pillow
Landing soft and slowly with a sigh
Quiet sounds of silken quilt
In covered warmth
Receives the fragile woman worn of age
Contentment on her face
As she finds comfort and companion with relief
In design and form beneath
As she slips between the sheets
A slower moving body
In the cozy bedroom for some tranquil sleep
Outside, snowflakes count down the hours
Blanketing the relaxed house near heaven
In penetrating peace
Mounting are the flowing mounds of white
Building moments upon other open moments
Smiles take the woman on a cloud
To drift as well
Composed and calm
Upon her pillow down
8/21/14 Seasonal Bliss poetry contest
Garden Of Flowers
Red rose’s red rose’s, won’t you turn violet?
Red rose’s red rose’s, won’t you set like the summer sun?
Red rose’s red rose’s, won’t you turn pink?
Red rose’s red rose’s, won’t you shower like the spring rain?
Red rose’s red rose’s, won’t you turn yellow?
Red rose’s red rose’s, won’t you fall like the autumn leaves?
Red rose’s red rose’s, won’t you turn purple?
Red rose’s red rose’s, won’t you freeze over with the winter breeze?
As the roses looked up
As the roses looked down
As the roses looked right
As the roses looked left
They spoke with a gentle tongue, like a thousand whisper “As the seasons turn, so shall we. We’ll move with the wind, and stop with the thin air. Well be heated by the summer sun and frozen with the winter breeze”.
So, said the roses from the garden of flowers.
When we come to the autumn of our days,
And winter nights are all that beckon us.
Will we regret, when we, our life appraise,
If by our living, life was lessened thus.
Or do we live our lives without regard,
For any consequence, our actions pose,
That to others whose feelings we discard,
Which by our words and deeds we have exposed.
No we cannot live in such solitude,
Or fret upon each decision that we take.
The living of a life should not be viewed,
As a series of silence and mistakes.
But in the living of a life we might,
By living well we make such living right.
Peering through plate glass at a puzzling view,
In the midst of hot coffee’s morning ritual brew.
Staring out with amazement and wonderfully struck,
By our Cherry Tree’s overnight sensation run amuck!
By nature’s own standard, cruel joke she has played,
Million blossoms wide open one February day.
This juvenile sapling knows not what it feels,
Sprouting vivid Pink colors, the show it now steals.
From those all around laying dormant in state,
Expecting nature’s cue to blossom their own petals awake.
And by then poor young cherry will have muted her splash,
Replaced by green leaves summer storms will soon thrash.
But alas all this splendor making warm visual sense,
In the short time required for fresh java to dispense.
Tomorrow I’ll once again observe through plate glass,
The wonders waiting just beyond cold winter’s Rye Grass.
Submitted to Giorgio A. V. Contest themed: Impress me with a small poem II!
1) user name: wedge
2) choice of motif: nature
I'm 51 today.
51 tomorrow, yay
Was 51 yesterday.
52 is months away,
And yes I'm thankful.
Although it's not my real birthday,
It kinda is in a certain way.
I'm still alive another day.
I had the notion to celebrate.
And be thankful.
Though it's not a holiday.
Thanksgiving has come and gone away,
I'm just alive today.
For that I'm thankful.
Honestly, I am not just trying to make these lines rhyme,
Or reflect upon the deep sublime.
I'm just grateful today to be alive.
I mean really thankful.
I'm not trying to wow you with philosophy,
Or impress you with theology.
It matters not at all to me.
I just feel thankful.
So tonight I take a walk outside,
I look up into the endless sky and then I breathe.
I breathe in deep,
And I say thank you.
And maybe not just to Who you think,
Man let's throw in the kitchen sink,
And include all who've touched my life, to whom I'm thankful.
Some of you I'm glad you're gone,
Frankly you stayed a bit too long
And some you the grave stole far too soon,
And yet I'm still thankful.
Today the living and the dead
You've both been right up inside my head,
And synergized this verbal thread.
For that I'm thankful.
I close my eyes and think of Tim, named David right there toward the end.
I always smile when I think of him,
And now I listen
I heard a siren going by,
I wonder who and wonder why,
Was it a wreck, did someone die?
Yet still I listen.
Neighbors dogs are going wild.
Was that the laughter of a child.
Seems like I can hear for miles.
Still I listen.
I hear the hi-way roar of cars.
Tho I have never heard the stars
Is there really life on Mars?
Shhh brain please shut up and listen!
The soft night whispers in my ears.
Pressing through my random fears,
I stand amazed at what I hear.
And now I wonder.
I open up my eyes and see as I feel this winter breeze
The silhouette of leafless trees.
I stand in wonder
Then I wonder about the first man to ever be,
Or the first time he looked up to see
The Milky Way the galaxies.
Did he wonder?
I wonder what he did
How he loved how he lived.
If he ever lost a friend?
Man oh man I wonder.
Was he the first to dig a grave?
How it sounded if he prayed?
How he fought?
How he played?
If that man could see us all today,
What would he say I wonder?
In ways was he a lot like me?
Did he sometimes fear what he could not see?
Did he create unseen walls
I stand and wonder.
Did he ever hurt the ones he loved?
Did life convince him not to trust?
My great grandfather lived
My DNA is shared with him.
I wonder how we are the same,
And I don't even know his name.
Still I wonder.
Will my great grand kids know my name?
Will it even matter who's to say?
Will they look up in wonder?
Will they listen?
Will they be thankful?
Not much I can leave to them
That would matter too much in the end.
I suppose the primal hope in man
Is the hope I hope lives on in them
I hope they wonder. About the universe.
I hope they listen. To life's unspoken verse.
I hope they're thankful. Even in midst of deepest hurts.
I hope they're thankful.
I hope they listen.
I hope they wonder.
And no matter what life hands them,
I hope they hope.
Damp eyelids,misty breath,
Foggy-streets' dim lights,
Leafless trees,concrete boughs.
If these eyes shall become blinded, and if this
hair shall come to be combed thinly and grey;
No, it would not be the end of the world.
I would still see beauty therein this world through
the songs of Crickets and Feathered Songsters.
The breeze would yet whisper and trees still dance.
I would yet smell the freshly bloom of Spring.
I'd still endure Summer's sweltering heat.
I'd yet feel Autumn's leaves crunch 'neath these toes.
I'd still long to be fireside with Winter.
Disabled or not, perhaps I'd yet walk
therein wonderful imagination.
How I'd be forever young at heart!
Then just as one journey came to an end,
I'd indeed greet another with a smile.
Hither I stand, at crossroads,
And then I gaze, at the yonder end-
The vague horizon from where I began;
And all that I may ever deem
Is that- my days
Have been a waken dream.
Hither I stand, at the edge of my dream;
Then I wonder, at the depth of my trance-
An adventurous journey through the wondrous woods;
An idyllic stroll through the vicissitudinous meadow;
And from the final station as I depart,
All that I can ever say, is that
Perpetuation has been a rouge
Of fleeting phases of my life.
St. Stephen’s College.
I do not know?
The frost sets in deep in my bones
I feel it gnawing at my soul.
It tells me that each time the wind blows
I grow another day old.
But it's the cold that ages me most
In summer i was beautiful
And i would wear floral perfumes
when the wind didn't play with my hair.
But now i'm distorted in my mirror
Crushed by the weight of the rain outside.
The cold tumbles upon my head
and i cannot see the sky.
The roaring sound of a freight train wind,
Blows northern snows across the prairie again.
horizontal snow that ices over eye-lashes,
Quickly brings a halt to any kind of progresses.
Shivering bones and chattering teeth,
Just a mile or so to the end that keeps,
the warmth of a fire in a pot-belly stove,
one more mile till my Wyoming home.
I can smell the fire burning on a 60 mile per hour gust,
Faint; but I can smell it just enough,
to keep my feet moving in an unmerciful land,
Please dear Lord, don't let this be my last stand.
Growing tired and weary, snow up to my hips,
I remember your kisses on my half frozen lips.
We danced in that field of purple and white,
Now, it seems I've lost my way, and I've lost my life.
I think I'll sit and rest just a bit.
I thought like the winter you were cold. You always seemed out of my reach, so good looking and you had a certain strut. You were used to boys falling all over you. I said hi and you gave me a dissmissive glance. I continued to look in your direction and cleared my throat. You looked up again curious to see what I wanted. I became lost in my emotions.
she tilts her head
and flips hair to the side --
our eyes lock
I stood there staring into your big brown eyes, tongue trapped in the back of my throat. I must have looked comical, you started to laugh. Not a cruel laugh it was one of sheer delight, your smile radiated warmth over your entire face. I had never before witnessed such beauty. once my tongue was free I asked you out to the winter dance. You surprised me by saying yes. I guess fortune does favor the bold. I walked away before you could change your mind. Each footstep in the snow marked the beat of my heart.
Debbie Guzzi's Mix it up contest.
Show me a clear midsummer’s day, and I
Shall reveal the coldness lurking beneath
For which the mortals heave a knowing sigh
In kind, the winter bares her savage teeth
Yet we, who know better than to implore
Play games with Time that are cruelly coy
Always to have less than ever before
And thus is the fickle manner of joy
To depart tenfold as quick as it came
Seeking first the ones who try to hold fast
For all who dare speak that elusive name
Breathe tender eulogies of summers past
Fear not, for the blush of this earth entombed
Shall run our blood until we are exhumed
Winter Scene - Haiku
pine needles hold snow
ice, like broken glass, cracks roads
winter sweeps it clean
Frozen In Crystalline – Number -2
On hours born near nights wild snow storm
Light draws us home to a fire light warm
Created on 11/22/14 for Frozen In Crystalline – Number - 2
Approaching the winter of my years,
Never yet found my reason.
So much laughter, so many tears,
Yet all that’s sure is the season.
To few, all my days;
So many spent simply breezin’.
Should I regret their waste
When all that’s sure is the season?
What’s it been about anyway?
Perhaps there is no reason.
Did so want to learn the truth,
But all that’s sure is the season.
Always tried to consider others.
‘Tis much easier to be pleasin’.
How many are my friends?
All that’s sure is the season
Felt the urge to make my mark.
Fame or fortune was my reason.
Fear of failure was my tether,
For all that’s sure is the season.
A man of Christian faith,
Hope God finds me pleasin’.
Fair chance tho’, I’ll go to Hell,
Yes, all that’s sure is the season.
So what of value will I leave?
Hearts and souls I may be teasin’
With too few words too few will read,
While all that’s sure is the season.
Approaching the winter of my years,
Never yet found my reason;
But thank God for each extra day I search.
Still, all that’s sure is the season.
As I passed on
The sign on
The chair that says:
A young looking lady
With brown hair
And blue dress
Smile at me.
I myself smile at her
As a response
And I think its a very reational response
Instantly about 5 seconds
Our eyes f*c*k.
She didn't say word
I got some of it
In my head
Then the tunnel exhales
On her perfume
Only small amount
I could smell
The train blows its breath
And its approaching like a bull
Then it stops in front of her
She expand her chest
And I can hear my eyes screaming
For her to stay there
And continue this sensual
Just for one minute
Strangely I think
She heard my inner scream
She stop and give a smile
But her feet takes her
towards the train
The door close
As she disappear
I Try to look for any resemblance of her
I think it was also blown by the train
Even her scent was gone.
Now Im alone
i felt like smoking
I grab my left pocket
And I still have a half of it
I lit a stick
Rode the escalator
I feel like walking on
the crowded street of George street.
Maybe I will one day
see her agin
hundred days from now
young looking lady
With blue dress who smile at me.
-comments please mate- TY
Dalliance With The Winter Birch
Crystal glances at the brilliant blue
Marching up there with blinding sun soaked sky
Clouds stream by
They come apart in seams of wonder
As the day begins to shine
Work waits there on the farm
A dalliance with winter wind and trees begin
White limbs swing limp, spring back again on birches
Firm roots, frozen earth, hold the hard wood down
I climb the highest branches there
At 8:00 am farm chores start once again
They can wait for just a while longer
While all of nature sinks into the skin
As I figure out how to return
Somehow I got lost above the trees
Tangled in the maze of branches
Caught, never found, while climbing birches
Never quite figured out
Which way was up or down
The shadows over take my mind at times
but your love stands so true for me
it takes care of the pain I feel
but when the shadows call it seems so loud
when your soft whisper is covered by clouds
Why so faint is Thy voice for me
did I fall to hard inside this hole
Do the clouds stand so close for a reason
let me out of this season of darkness
let me hold Thy hand inside mine
keep me warm and fill my heart
I love the way you touch my face
when the tears fall and you open your warm Embrace
Your truth is all I need to live
a true life for all to see
your hand and love guiding me
But I can't walk this road alone
I need to hear your voice inside
I need your touch so very much
I see the pain and feel it to
I need your love to lift the blue's
Take me now and use my life
Help me Lord, to escape the strife.
Written By:©Betty Bolden
I do not know?
Snow burdened the weary leaves,
Drooping in view of the shivered fence.
There I sat blushing my knuckles,
Uncertain of movement around this chair.
I remember the etching stone,
With silent squeaks,
That circled my brain.
Grievingly aware of departing clouds.
There I sat with no muscle,
To find with sight a consuming abyss.
Littered with glinting, white eyes;
Like a madness scatters nails.
And then dark oversee,
Dark, blackest light
Spat out my eyes...
Burn an old barrel.
Snow burdened these weary leaves,
And I surveyed the depth of the fence.
For now I may hang out my hands,
Sitting alone on this frozen park bench.
A silent wave rushing inside my heart
Your hand leading me so far we won't depart
Your voice I heard in away that's taking me far
Into a silent wave rushing inside my heart.
Oh the thrill it was to hear
your voice so silent as I opened up to you
so wonderful this silent wave rushing inside my heart
I was searching for a answer to a question for so long
there it was a silent wave rushing inside my heart
Your voice Lord, in ways I never found
a silent whisper so very loud
inside my heart the silent wave replied
to me your love is so divine..
So when the shattered dreams are filling your mind
please please listen to the silent wave rushing inside your heart.
Written by:©Betty Bolden
I spy, a feather beauty bright
With speckled blush on breast
Basking within the thicket light
Dancing round about her tiny branch
Your fluttering sight beholding
Within the snowy briar
Bathing among the warmth
Of the morning's golden glory
Its brilliance your own crown of halo
Like a sunburst that swallows
Up the end of February's sigh
As other feathers flusters zoom right by
The ginger little fellows all dappled, scramble
A merry-go-round within a flight
Threading joyous song throughout your bramble
As further flocks of scurry, hurry fly
On parade teasing wings of faerie sprites
A musical path of crisscross kites
But, you little one are the daring, bursting forth
With higher operatic songs, to startle and scold those spry
Feather beauty bravely
Upon your perch chest thrust out boldly
Nonsense rhymes and a new found might
Chase away the imps of finch and thrush
And keep yourself the sunbeams for its light
And bask yourself once more this time
Among the drops of melting dripping snow
And gather up all tis full
Feasting here, where the wild wild berries grow
But, in the end you are their kin
And soon, my fairy feathered friend you too must go
Out, onto twittering leafy stemmy stem and off...
Into the yonder of the coming spring to rove
When therefore great Father Saint and our driver, us your reasons knowers will
be saved? The world is changing I feel it in the water, I taste it in the air on the
moisture of the ground, shades in the clearing of midday, whispers of horrible
voices echoing against the Stone. Drums crying and us inside the mine drinking
the sulphur, the knife in the scabbard has spoken also two flowers bent on the
step of a trespasser. The black dog raised itself to us in the night, knowing that
came the hour the last, it is time to give the blood and the sweat and the white
tooth. Brother will cut brother in blow body with body looking at the blood as it
rolls slowly from the rock' s head. The wheels of fortune turns. Crowned and
cleaned with light the suntanned breasts and the hands, dark bodies wild
embraced with glances sincere and comfort on there walk laughing. Our chariot
driver, father, God Unknown! Unwrite what its written to be done on this land of
Heroes, gently I grasp they and hand you flakes of winter.
I do not know?
…and I will come.
When the first snow falls down/
when the fall gives its rights/
to the winter/
you know I will come/
for good or for bad/
I’ll board the train/
Passing by / stations/ and countries/
I promised/ and I remember/
You said “there’s no fortuitous meetings/
…and I will come.
When the first snow falls down/
When you’ll lose the trace/
When my firmest snickers/ wipe out/
I will/ I will come…
Unexpectedly/ knowing solely the door/
Just the road / for sure/
Before/ take you I’ll ask/
“are you ready to go?” /
You are ready/ I know/
All the noise doesn’t matter/
I don’t haste/ will be later/
…I will come.
When it finally turns out/
That November is overthrown by December/
When the first snow falls down/
Will be clear/ that nobody is remembered/
And I will come…
Somewhere in chest/ between ribs/
You slashed me/ with thoughts/
I can feel it with lips/ crawling under my cloths/
Our world is alive/ our life/ we’re alike/
I will come.
When the first snow falls down/
When the death is changed into fate/
When the winter gives up/
To wait/ for spring/
to stay with shining sun/
I will come.
It's a cool mesure of life blood low
keeping the venous vacant return and arterial alert
compressive but maniacal
down deep fried effervesence continued a bliss
smooth blow horn alive high frequency antedote
fever pitch a b--i-- t==...c,,,h mellow deed digestive
cornerstone just picked, not canned cloud
billows apiece with networks intact
sublime charged unpatterened--to gut cord
noose cadence couffiures---who needs to look
when you can heartfeel the resonance trueblue
mild like casket breaths mishapen to formless
'guises compact summer stated summer not
he--ightened proseless panarama to stiffle
the mistermasters time corrided but indelibly
remembered and "coited to us"---like
creature interruptus. Follow the ill laid scheme
and bottleneck every word line graph to a sinomeasure
rhyme myth only time will tell tribute
pour the mind from the soul fill the void with the
gush of private reserve subvintage--but held
crime captive via socioprocastination of free, non taxable
no interest due, no penalty for "early withdrawal"
purely personal, single minded, "brand H-one
owner single sibiling thought jester cannibal
yum yum eat'em up eat'em up.
After snow the ice sets in with wind
Temperatures plummet in the cold
The humble house gets cozy with the warmth inside
Built by the fire in your eyes
Small cabin, but, enough protection on the lumber logs
My love and I venture out to the wilderness
Bundled up in winter gear
Take each other by the hand
It keeps us strong
It reaches into our hearts
And starts an ember there for warmth
Snow is falling from the sky
Tears fill up some happy eyes
Flowers color the whiteness
That sparkle in the brightness
A trail of rose petals
Lead from outside to a hall
Christmas breezes fill a room
Waiting for a bride and groom
Flower girls looking so sweet
Pretty shoes upon their feet
Little boys holding the rings
As the choir starts to sing
Bridesmaids in long lacy gowns
You can hear the brides heart pound
The best man is doing his best
To calm the groom in his new vest
A hushed silence fills the air
The brides march is what you hear
As doors open and you see
A gorgeous gown and the beauty
Of a bride that can not wait
To be wife--it will be great
A preacher saying the I Do's
No objections from the pews
Rings are placed softly with care
Kissing lips and happy cheers
A Christmas wedding that will be
The greatest one in history
Full of joy and lots of love
Snow falling from up above
As angels bless this happy union
Of a couple always swooning
Old Man (Splintered)
On the walk, the one with wood, along the dunes, a time to saunter
Shoes with old holes on soles now prehistoric
Clip and clop along the winter boardwalk
In the shoes is slender Sam who slides along the boards
Footwear held together with some threads and prayer
Feet too heavy to lift, due to gravity or perhaps a gentler nature
The old man sits to smell the ocean salt and pelican mist
He sits to feed the pigeons some stale official bread from his own kitchen
Rising from the bench becomes a task for cranes and tractors
Bulldozers are needed to lift the spirits
Sam holds on against the winter wind, filled with concrete hollows
Holds on to rails provided there
He retreats into his shell he calls his life
Picks up a splinter with an ouch along the way
Through his unholy holes exposed to nature and the wood
Perhaps it is prime time to buy new shoes or soles
Winter Trip Haiku
Winter comes, aged, pains
Oriental dancer’s trip
Go over ice falls
The noon sunray squeezes my eyes,
Viewing the snowy mountain heights,
Under immense blue screen:
What a nice shiny scene!
The birds sunbathe their wings in high;
First rain left few flowers drip-dry;
The yellow and brown foliage
Shade the shrubs of wood sage.
The sunray chills the entire scenery;
A strange ton in the nature contrary;
Strained my flaming face;
Frosted in the sunny place.
Like the cute smiling of a pretty lady
Attracts man who falls in love badly;
His dream will soon vaporize:
Body language could be a lie!
Eskimos know 68 shades of snow
They count every flake
Green blue ones fill children with delight
Parents frozen like the dim light of day
Wait with edges of a knife for prey
They dare not move during the hunt for food
Faces etched like leather on fierce weather
In calmer times they sing
Pound igloos into shape before the pending storm
Mukluks on their children’s feet are old and worn
But keeps them warm on moonless nights
Against all odds for life
They hold together chanting on the wind
Stretching across all time and land
Singing about their past and colder weather
And yes, about the color white
Sentry huskies sway left to right in fear
And think of caribou
Soon the ice will cover everything
Settled in the deep
The people sleep
And dream of whale bones by the glacier sea
LIKE FALLEN LEAVES…
Here in the winter of my long lived life,
the leaves of my head now fall to the ground.
Destined like leaves of trees gone dead,
the winter winds will soon blow my dust around;
and like fallen leaves, I’ll be done with this world’s strife.
Oh but when the scythe of time snips my thread,
would if I could be like leaves of trees---
who in due season, go happily to their death:
leaving their wooded---naked bones with nothing left
but the bark of reason guarding their earthy homes
through whose lonely arms, the chilly breeze freely roams.
Yet, for these trees, another season comes like the mornings’ dew;
And they shall rise up from winter’s purgatory and begin life anew.
And though the sojourn here has had its moments of despair,
the flames of love, faith and hope have always been there.
So when I’m gone, weep only tears of joy for me;
for I know why the empty cross was made of the wood of a tree.
The muscles flexed like wings for flight
I saw fell down from heaven like light
The trees shook
Off their callous demure, grew gold green
My masked look
Came where adoration feathered preen
The cold pride that risked my life
The risks that gave me strength in youth
Disappeared in conformance too rife
And I risk done, for old age turned to soot
Undone by trusting to be secure
The man becomes impotent like the child before
Some will not see old age in anything
Except to know dying leaves are gold
And a drying river seems like a spring
Dead winter too as white innocense unfold
Some will not understand metaphors still
Deeper pearls in images of hard shells
The sun gives life and same time does kill
But nothing alive deters the cycled knells
For we conform and then we fall apart
To believe is where the beginnings start
Winter hairs atop the head, and winter beard
That even in the sun will not melt. This tree
Has no green leaf left to show for life. Seered
By the cold barren branches faking all glee
Replaced their groans with creaking songs
Death is kind, it is old age that's glum and gloomy
I fear its frightening, and unfumbling fangs
The little niche of hole to a world so well and roomy.
Bones leak like roofs, and no rain yet
To moist the scales of the crinkling skin
The joy of today is to forget
Memory has no next of kin.
I go beyond the end of the line to write
My children in meaning after my tongue
Still against the forlorn night
Cleave leaves for specks of dew soft hung.
I have opened hibiscus for your tongue
To bird hum and suck
Its honey out among
Shrivelling stamens sagging into muck
I gave you light that may understand this
Lapse of petals dried
Fantasizing for a kiss
A mouth that left the flesh mob crucified
All this roar of dreams and desires vain
This birth to know, fell
From grace, grows pain
Man's life, the eager urge of empty shell.