*** Bucket List ***
I want to discover the regions that rise
Up from between blades of grass and climb
To alien atmospheres; I want to examine for traces
Of fingerprints left on guitar strings, to know
If talent carries a transmitting touch.
Then, I might dwell some long days peering into
The brush strokes of Klee, VanGogh, Degas, and
Pissarro (to name but a few) until radiant
Perception gleans, directing my sight. Too,I
Will draw every face near me, every smile and eye.
From there, I will travel the alleyways of the world,
Helping to work for hope where little lives;
Inspiring spirits bound by dark clouds
Hanging too low, from which no rain flows...
But,I will list no more: the contents
Of my bucket grow, but quench not the fire.
********. **********. *********. ********
(C) sally Young eslinger 12/25/20
Thanks be to God.
Lost in an algorithmic alleyway
I shuffle papers seeking warmth’s rapport
each page a heartless memory gone numb
rustling sheets - torn sails - confined to shore
catch still the drifting scent of distant seas
translate life’s deepest dreams so weeping eyes
can taste the salt sting spray of breaking trough
lie still amid the silence when it dies
Yet still I scribble tales of truths that lie
amid the shifting moments of life’s tides
a ghost ship lost at edge of sea and sky
unsure of what it knows and what it hides.
Shipwrecked in tattered sails no longer free
condemned - I curse the calling of the sea.
John G. Lawless
©4/9/2019
A highway of regret…
an avenue of denial
A boulevard of hopes and dreams
where footsteps have defiled
A thoroughfare of wanton time
each choice a dead end road
In fated plundered wanderlust
—dark alleyways of stone
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)
Alleyways
Ill thought of entryways,
back doors for the less than,
dimly lit to conceal the other side
of Main Streets façade.
Trash cans, disputed bounty
of the homeless and rodents,
loose change of empty cans
and bottles rattling in old
carts, recyclers by default.
Film covered windows
overlooking the bleakness
of immigration’s flaws.
Scented breezes wafting
across oceans, introducing
themselves. Echoed footsteps
trudging littered alleyways,
entering darkened doors.
Homes that offer laughter
and a muted ray of light
to flicker ‘mid the colorless
ill thought of entryways.
John G. Lawless
12/8/2013
< It hides behind the shadows, around the corner and through the alleyways of our hearts afraid to surface lest it be called upon to show itself and bare its soul.
It lays alone and lonely, well hidden behind its fears. Nonetheless, it desperately attempts to search its way slowly, carefully around the corners, through the alleyways and into the face of possibilities.
Should it chance the daring escapade?
Should it be discovered, will it be laughed at and ridiculed or betrayed and banished back to the empty void where it came from , to weep silently forevermore or will it be cherished and embraced in the protective cocoon if its soul mate.
It need but a trickle of hope to enter our hearts for love to emerge. With each precious drop, it gains strength and courage until it no longer desires to remain in seclusion hiding behind the shadows, around the corner and through the alleyways of our hearts.
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