Snow plows rumble in the night. I wake up
for tomorrow already applauding the sunrise.
Sol is turning slushy ice to diamonds
while unknown workers dig the world out again.
Even before the light
dances around the corners of eyelids
paw marks kick-up, blue-chipped coruscations,
bullet points on a surfacing whiteness
highlighting what should be shown now
in a natural order of revealing.
For a while, the land is shoveled up,
cleaned and rolled into paper-light reams.
Whether the earth melts to mud
or grows glaciers in backyards
let us be grateful for the next round,
of the laws of subsequent happenstance.
The winter will be helped along
with the steamy breath of labor
and the prayers of those who only watch.
We are cleaning up the dead spaces,
constructing viewing platforms
for the fur-fluffed and the wingers
who survive
for more new Lazarus moments
still buried beneath tomorrow.
Categories:
coruscations, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Snow plows rumble in the night. I wake up
for tomorrow already applauding the sunrise.
Sol is turning slushy ice to diamonds
while unknown workers dig the world out again.
Even before the light
dances around the corners of eyelids
paw marks kick-up, blue-chipped coruscations,
bullet points on a surfacing whiteness
highlighting what should be shown now
in a natural order of revealing.
For a while, the land is shoveled up,
cleaned and rolled into paper-light reams.
Whether the earth melts to mud
or grows glaciers in backyards
let us be grateful for the next round,
of the laws of subsequent happenstance.
The winter will be helped along
with the steamy breath of labor
and the prayers of those who only watch.
We are cleaning up the dead spaces,
constructing viewing platforms
for the fur-fluffed and the wingers
who survive
for more new Lazarus moments
still buried beneath tomorrow.
Categories:
coruscations, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Africa,
Upon this vantage pedestal I see you,
i gaze from this hollow quest,
away from the home of my ancestors,
a sojourner for a time,
I yearn,
to tread again the beautiful climate of my origin,
where no strange stares forbids my freedom,
Africa,
Did I hear the enthralling songs?
The chirping sounds of the birds,
The brilliant coruscations,
the evening tales by moonlight,
Oh! Nature, never saw you tainted.
it is different here,
Africa, A vast exotics land of combination,
with lush emerald jungles
vistas of burning stars,
and torrential white river,
the mountains unharvested,
the hills uncrowded,
Africa,
we smile without suspicion
not hunted "like partridges upon the mountain"
We breathe though poor
Yet rich in morals
I am a prisoned sojourner here,
men speed away uncaring.
locked in debts called homes,
bills buries friendship,
and for wood hay and stubble,
nature becomes a nullity,
in motions like robots,
we wake, we work, and wear our frame
Africa i hear you call
Categories:
coruscations, absence, africa, beauty, culture,
Form: Lyric
SIBERIAN GIFTS
Chimney smoke west-trailing far
Over the murky city, announcing
The cold Siberian air pushing in. Listening,
People looked up to see on high -
Bestudded coruscations of stars
Where none was ever seen:
Gifts from an ethereal hand, glistening,
And dropped into the fresh black sky.
............................................
NOTE
The recent extremely cold weather all over Europe is blamed on the "Siberian High" which is a cold air-mass affecting much of the world. We suffered too in St Petersburg (Russia) but the starry skies were a bonus gift in this smoky city.
Categories:
coruscations, metaphor,
Form: Rhyme
Insulated by seclusion, comforted by wine,
my evenings of dormancy are once again impelled
into the quiet seas of rumination.
When, as randomly as my drifting thoughts
weave in and through my indiscriminate cognition,
a soft unbidden light gently transudes through my minds curtain of lethe,
and lays a tame glow on a forgotten young face.
Warm reminiscent coruscations of your adoring touch,
bathe and soften my callous melancholy into velvet, fluid tears of lamentation.
How i wish i would have told you.
Categories:
coruscations, depression, i miss you,
Form: Free verse
Bound to my gurney by straps of lassitude,
I lay immobile,
Poisoned by quiescence, my eyelids fruitlessly petition for strength,
Hours of dormancy pass and pass again,
As predicatively as the monotone ticking of the clock,
Recalling memories of these days are but hazy coruscations
of temporary consciousness.
Recording only the fading evolution of the days light on the wall.
Fading shades of titanium white,
Falling victim to sun kissed ambers,
I only arise to granite, charcoal blindness.
The world is quiet now.
Categories:
coruscations, depression, emo, emotions, mental
Form: Free verse