There once was a boy called Tom
Who knew not where he was from,
So he went to a land far away
And lived a life, o, so fine, so gay.
He lived under a silvery shining summer moon,
Cirri skies of pastel aloft made him fully-bloom.
Lavender light and smell and song suffused his memory,
But, alas, such sweets evoked not what was but what could be.
For as time slowly went by,
He felt his life go awry,
And deep shadows walked over his being,
The leaks in his soul unheard, unseen.
For in each enchanted moment that came,
The problem was invariably the same;
Not what and who were there, but who and what were not,
Slowly made his visions and dreams decay and rot.
He was, alas, a victim of time,
His days bereft of rhythm, of rhyme.
And so his gasping heart felt not full,
Skies drained of hue; chords of doom rang dull.
Thus one day he mounted a cliff-edge,
And, with a full gasp, leapt off the ledge,
And dived and tumbled and fell hard down to the sea,
That poor boy, Tom, from his phantoms, never free.
Categories:
cirri, longing, loss, lost, lost
Form: Rhyme
days of benign stealth
lawns, gardens, orchards drink to my health
the road's been unkind
well it's gone, it's flowed on behind
let me recline in this boon
mellow noon
the bell might ring
spiteful and soon
days of serene sloth
cirri bind the sky in strips of clean cloth
and they barely support its weight of light
and i circle my core like a moth
tell me whose darned flitting hand
lit this little burner just below my head
that it moves higher up with each sandbag shed
and i never knew how far my land spread
now i long for something to make
now i ache for something to wield
earthbound and sunbaked
like a worker in the field
Categories:
cirri, forgiveness, friendship, happiness, health,
Form: Rhyme