Long Harbinger Poems
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Josh’s drinking days were long behind him. The three beers he drank before ordering his meal; the two beers he drank during his meal; and, the two Bailey’s he consumed after his meal had taken their effect on the middle-aged man. He talked incessantly to the bartenders, bothered the two young ladies who sat at the bar a few stools away and staggered back and forth to the men’s room a dozen times.
Finally, reluctantly, after many hours had passed, Josh paid his tab, leaving a generous, alcohol influenced tip and wobbled out the door. Not sure which direction to go to return to his hotel, Josh simply started off down the street, still thinking about his wife.
How much time passed is unclear, but he was many blocks away when he suddenly realized he was not wearing his fedora. Josh did an about-face and tried to retrace his steps to the bar and bar stool where he knew his hit sat waiting for him. Josh walked into and out of a number of bars he mistook for the one he dined in. Although he was fooled by the outside facades, once he stepped in, he knew it was the wrong bar.
When Josh finally stumbled upon the bar that he recognized as the one he had dined in, it was closed and the doors were locked. It was 3:00 am.
Tears came to Josh’s eyes. Josh felt as if losing the hat his wife had given him was a harbinger of the end and he was not ready to reach that point. Josh simply had to retrieve that hat. He had to get his wife back. Somewhere, deep down in his drunken soul, Josh mustered up the strength to lift the city trash can from the corner of the street and smash it through the large glass window in front of the bar – he was oblivious to the alarms that started blaring.
Josh managed to crawl into the bar through the broken window unaware of the glass shards cutting his wrists, stomach and throat. The moister from the blood simply mixed with the moister from his sweat. The numbness and anesthetic nature of the abundance of alcohol he was not used to masked the extent of his injuries.
When the police arrived on the scene, Josh was found in the darkness, clutching his fedora at the foot of the stool where he had eaten his dinner.
Josh’s wife received the phone call later that morning announcing his passing.
He was buried with the fedora.
I dreamed of a night for many years
Wandering far from home;
When I could stand and stare at the stars
Silently, on my own.
Head uplifted, eyes open wide;
Points of light eternal
Racing through darkness
Into my eyes.
Desiring nothing
More than this:
To gaze upon the universe
And know its kiss…
Sweet upon my soul within
Lost in limbo there and then;
‘til pierced by the light
(Photons abound)
Filling my soul
With mystery profound.
By gravity’s grace
On this blue and green sphere
Leaving me to wonder
Why everything’s here.
And how long have you traveled
Harbinger of life
Through light years of space
In the dead of night?
Did you begin in the Big Bang
Or perhaps, before then?
Did you see the face of the Creator
And intrinsically know Him?
Or are you a more recent arrival
In the Milky Way Realm?
Did you come from our own
Next door neighbor, the Sun
Or have you traveled farther still,
Out there on the run?
Have you seen other civilizations of people like us
In the distant reaches of time and space
Swarming with stars and planets,
Made from the megalithic turning pin wheels of gasses and dust?
Did you know Andromeda, Orion, Cancer and Crater?
What of Corona Borealis, Draco and Cassiopeia?
Did you fly by Delphinus and Gemini, the Twins,
Past Pegasus and Perseus on your way to Microscopium?
I could ask these kinds of questions
Until time stands still
But we’ll be long gone by then
And I will have never been quite filled
With all of the wonder
Life in this Universe brings
Me to the end of another good day
Far better than the best of all dreams.
An echo of footsteps fill the serene salty air,
muffled thuds like faint taps in slow motion,
moving in a somber sonata over a creaking pier.
The bitter breeze is a harbinger of forthcoming storms,
but in an empty promenade the silence is soothing.
My anchor heart finds comfort at the sun shimmering,
upon a lullaby of waves calming the senses,
I lose my thoughts, almost forget myself,
as they softly caress moist sands,
sinking deep into trodden grains,
each ripple touching my hollow soul
like messengers of prophecies,
with sweet premonitions of pleasure and treasure,
but some resemble embers eternally burning,
leaving behind a directory of debris,
engraving intensely, as each fragment
weighs me down like burdens from a wreckage.
The mind ponders,
how I am a northern shore
whilst my life is a southern coastline.
What could have been and what will be,
what is mine and what is not,
what I actually deserve and what I have got.
In these internal fragilities,
we are like estuaries without an embankment.
But in this stillness the sunset is evidence
how the end can be graceful.
I gaze towards the ceaseless seas,
wishing the tide could carry me away,
but I am a broken boat left to rot
upon cold sands on a winters day.
Sunday Scribble
Wreath underlaid with resin and pine
Overlaid with ribbon and twine
Spliced together, effervescent shine
Signifying the season of mirth and wine
Rustic emblem that we from nature's reservoir did mine
Artificial symbol of human ingenuity and design
Bridled garland that nature's bounty did re-assign
Monument to the preceding year's decline
Woody chalice in which new year's good will to enshrine
Decorative laurel that both hopes and memories bine
Resplendent crown that hearth's door doth refine
Glowing beacon that will holiday guest's illumine
Token of past year's blessings from which we hesitantly resign
Harbinger of coming year's favor which we so ardently pine
Picking apart meanings written
Seeking ways to fit in
A mosaic of song and show
It makes your skin glow
An angel in every breath
At every corner denying death
You held my eyes
But I'm haunted by past lies
Yell at me to leave it all behind
As if my heart's scars can be mended by rewind
You want to soothe and erase the past
The lights blind so fast
Meanings slowly taper
When written on sheets of paper
What arises will surely fall
I'm afraid to heed the call
Your heart is a tapestry of feelings
And past heartbreaks are like onion peelings
Revealing a deeper layer beneath
Love is truly all we have to bequeath
Our crow's love song
An effort to belong and be strong
A mosaic of song and show
Together we could truly grow
Maturity has no age lock
But our time together is on the clock
You held my eyes
And saw past my disguise
The crow feasting on my heart cries
That you're the harbinger of my demise
I'm out of pretty words to sing
Show me a crow's love song means something
Lending eyesight past the retinal lens.
Seeking the sight through
the light of a looking glass.
Our home star shines through the parted clouds lay above.
Dauntless gamut, the drum is destructive by force.
Seeing the colors of healing in perfect tune.
Harbinger night terrified in horrifying hums.
Sat the same way across, open mouth absorbing what she can't.
Long time coming to triumphant horned brass.
Blearing these praises cross simple landscape paintings.
The trill of the ringing without the slightest bit of hearing.
Loathing no other in this decorative world.
Hurling the self down through a whirlwind turmoil.
Cascading down the eye of Neptune.
A resemblance jauntily bouncing, striking true ranging trident as if javelin.
Squalling seagulls sip the morning sunshine,
They are indeed a lovely sight to see.
No ship will sail with that turbulent brine
But the seagulls just glide around the quay.
They are indeed a lovely sight to see.
They plunge into the stormy sea for food
But the seagulls just glide around the quay.
They are a harbinger of weather crude,
They plunge into the stormy sea for food
Spying sardines, they eat or be forlorn,
They are a harbinger of weather crude,
Ominous clouds gather, and me they warn
Spying sardines, they eat or be forlorn,
No ship will sail with that turbulent brine
Ominous clouds gather and me they warn
Squalling seagulls sip the morning sunshine
In the chambers of dreaming, where the night drapes itself with crow feathers,
A harbinger of the end weeps silently over the meadow towards eternal rest;
Waltz, waltz in the canvas of darkness that seeks its nest.
Though the philosophers of the golden age embrace the darkened knowledge,
Because their echoes have not pierced the abyss with azure lightnings, they
Do not lie quietly upon the pallet of stars that are fading.
Brave souls of the dwindling day, at the last moment, sighing for their transient glow,
Faltering virtues could have waved in the green harbor of dreams,
Moan, moan at the dimming of the dreaming brightness.
Apparitions that captured and hummed the daytime star in its path,
Have learned, as time started to retreat, that their effort melts into twilight,
Do not calm gently beneath the night's canopy about to spill.
Solemn spirits, on the threshold of passing, who with piercing looks unveil the shroud,
Ephemeral eyes could dance like shooting stars and revel,
Spells, spells against the light that has begun to withdraw.
And you, father of echoes, lost on the ridge in the sad tomb of clouds,
Now bind me with the dew of your tears to this tale.
Do not pass gently towards the bed of night that has just unrolled.
Waltz, waltz against the backdrop of darkness that sips its own light.
Quis ut Deus
Heaven's own
In slowest anger a
flaming resolve
kindled in the
lowest pits
Essence of light,
hound of darkness
Bringer of new life,
harbinger of death
Through life's dark
caverns true
traveller's ally For
warmth, For safety
True companion,
Heaven's own Kindled
with joy, For life
to light For the
path now clear Ye
art blind nomore
Burning bush's
wonder Rain of fire
and brimestone
Pillar of fire that
went before the
children of Israel,
chariots of fire now
come for Elijah
Heaven's fire burns
in the lowest hell
Life it consumes as
it increases Essense
of God who is like
him
The rose opens slowly toward the sun,
Like my heart opens for the Son.
As the rain refreshes the flowers,
His love restores my soul and spirit.
The daisy’s petals lay daintily in a circle,
Like my joy spreads out beneath His promises,
As the dewdrops grace these white petals,
His blood washes over me creating purity.
The sunflower lifts it’s head high,
Like my hope encourages me to believe,
As the birds fly near to pluck the seeds,
His reassurance fills me with praise.
The lily releases a wholesome fragrance,
Like my prayers are always answered,
As the colors burst with thrilling shades,
His grace whispers through the scriptures.
The iris stretches toward the clear blue sky,
Like my dreams find inspiration in His way,
As the magnificent flowers burst with happiness,
His hymns sing of sweet glory that will be.
The daffodil comes to life in the spring,
Like my faith strengthens with the word,
As the yellow is the harbinger of a season,
His truth incites my deepest beliefs.
The crocus blossoms through the snow,
Like my compassion rises from the one I know,
As a gentle reminder of who lives inside me,
His glory can be seen by the spirit filled believer.
I’m so thankful for this Jesus…
He is my life!