Long Sepia Poems

Last night I dreamed.

I dream--

sometimes too athletically,
fertile regeneratively,
viral, positive and negatively 
and in-between sub-climax performing 
some wins and some perpetual losses 
more ambiguously back and forth, up and down, in and out,
and not nearly sensual...

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"FALL"



I wrap
my Autumn world
around you

Calliope turning
raising the 
season’s poetry, 

I am she
returning 

dancing 
with Summer’s 
dying leaves 

Twirling you up into 
my warm golden brown 
symphony

hear me sing, 
whispering notes,
holding keys 

towards you 
you're approachable
reaching...

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Within the frame a sepia scene
a dusty porch   a rickety chair   
the fabric of your dusky face creased
with ceaseless sunbaked woes
your old pair of getaway feet gives 
a different walk of...

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In glamor-light of sunset
a new crowd of cumulus clouds arrive
and revive a sepia sky-scene—
unworldly woolgatherers gather
spinning fantasy fluff into quixotic yarns
of debutantes dancing with honeymoon hunger;
their dewy eyes blurred by the sawdust of stardust

pseudo-princess-pleasure-seekers
—drama daring...

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Don't let it start raining sepia coloured  leaves .
  as it will mean the summer flowers are about to leave.
    No more multi coloured borders to please. 
  ...

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O beloved chevalier, 
cloaked in shimmering champagne armor,
tonight I long to feel your sultry skin,
embroidered with emerald embellishments 
and twinkling teal topaz, 
tailored to tempt,
veiling these tanned desires.

My soul sways to a chained string 
of...

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A warm, glowing September night.
Nondescript small town bar with
people enjoying fine company and revelry.
College football game just finished.
We won!
Some friends find a table and 
a deck of cards. Pinochle.
Smiling, joy, and laughter. Lively conversation.
Good will...

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In the copper-clad cradle of time
where gears whir fugues to forgotten dreams.....
the fog—a somnolent specter—drifts.....
veiling the calculus of progress
a manuscript etched by steam and soot.

Hark The hiss of pistons proclaims
a triumph—or perhaps a dirge—
for we...

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1. Too fired up
he exaggerates every niggle
and squashes every chance to assuage our boils.
He acts without a lode star
putting everything under weigh
and exhibiting ignorance with flames of literacy.
Reading without play decorates stupidity
I play the cheap...

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In the middle ages
these roughed and scuffed decades
between newborn crocus snow-melt-nursed and
dried hydrangea blooms sepia-skinned and papery thin
I earned the right to wear sapphires
and burn my mademoiselle mistakes with wisdom-fires

it took me a while to...

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The chilled musky air torments the aging Saxon stone;
whistling through the aisles, the sound reverberating
as it sweeps along the colonnade.
Moonlight penetrates ancient glass stained windows,
initiating reflected shadows, as an innocent mind pulsates tempestuously,
he who was...

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"You can never kill a poet,
their words are engraved for eternity." Silent One

To the one who personifies my poetic heartbeats,
every time you abandon me, silence is my nemesis.
I'm like an inkless quill reciting a chorus...

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Straight lines, sepia

The suppression of unwanted thoughts

Like time spent in sensory deprivation
Time spent in a droning room
Under sterile light hums, practically drooling

The vacuum of most moments
As standard as cinder blocks
Punctuated by things so washed out,...

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She crossed a wide ocean, during war times, in danger
A life of adventure, of courage, of fear
Yet, nothing reveals the hint of the years
that have chiseled her wrinkles, but not dampened her cheer

She pours me...

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Moonbeams shine, sprouting sepia stars
Her heart's deepest recesses
Glow in the waves of a rose lake
Views that enliven the pulse of the nerves
Fairy tones bestow fragrance
Clouds of jasmine chilled and orchids nipped
Silky brown lips spoke in...

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This poem is a special devotion for my mother, who has always been a healing sun for these wintry eyes. Mumma, you're my hope, my strength, my magic and my heartbeat. I'll always find my...

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Trompe L'oeil
I use to be so sure of my colors
But now my vision is jaded
Perhaps it is obscured
from the THOUSANDS of tears I've shed

I taught you
the primary colors, RED, YELLOW, and BLUE
The shades of red...

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Dear me, 
  I breathe you
in the pulse of erased promises ~ 
I'm a shadow in your space 
and not any voice which can be heard
    above restless mists, 
so, when...

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She's pouring from a pot of tea
    as we relax on the quiet porch
Honeysuckle vines encircle the posts,
   and webs of daddy long-legs
      glisten in...

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And left without realizing I understood nothing 
I shrugged it off with a lump in my throat 
I tripped and stumbled over to the countertop 
And paused 
An inkling of a memory grew in head...

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A diverse array of flora and fauna reign majestic 
in vivid tawny imagery of shifting sand dunes 
and barren rocks-- sixteen miles
from the golden rays of western tomorrow.

Time is played out in crucial moments of...

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YqUsAHTUPTU&feature=related

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"First time I ever recognized Bipolar for what it is; I found-yes, it 
was me. Writing... precious-gift-honorable... the-antidote-fate; 
my-advocate"

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Bipolar--rushing-a trip, trip tripping-along-trip-trip tripping 
along-grappling whispering yea grumbling--gambling-
groaning-the sounds; echoing--unholy banter.


"Snickering-liar hell bent on-you-yea-ha; with-
eager-intention-you yes,...

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When cyan night's 
raspberry moon
is dipped in softness 
of the afterglows, 
I gaze at that glossy
first evening star between 
creamy fingers of 
my cherry palm, 
which trace lunar kins -
those angelic fireflies, 
twinkling and pirouetting,...

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To be a polylepis tree you gotta know 
You're a polylepis tree & this knowing 
Cements by being a polylepis tree,
Knowing between diagrammatic cracks
Fork'd already info knowing during descent.
Mud run through alpine meadow. Rubberized 
Crunch...

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O souls of the Island, 
I have silently 
heard through 
tropical torrents 
and surpassed 
a million miles 
of the milky seas, 
away from 
mint-marine 
silhouettes of my
utopian wonderland, 
as strawberry 
ripples and 
coconut-scented 
musings called...

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