Long Umbers Poems

I am not sure whether I am missing you or that you are missing life~

                    ...

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Spring rises and is reborn
   with a warm, glowing morning sun.
May apples, marsh daisies, wild purple, yellow and white violets
   peek from the earth with round glossy greens and flowers.
Wild scallions,...

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First-Person Personal
By Sy Roth

Here adrift wrapped in a coat of heebeejeebies
Fearful of using the first-person personal
Masking it instead by holograms of itself,
Playful non-entities cavorting among the semi-living.

Used to squirrel the words away like nuts now...

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oh ...

Gustav, how you pique the senses
          captured passion's plural tenses

lovers twined in percale folds
          caught supine...

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A blood-dipped letter lies before me,  
Wrapped in moth-ridden silk,  
Written by your ghastly fingers.  
The cold of another bleak fortnight settles in,  
While crimson-eyed ravens rest upon creaking window sills....

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Petroleum translucent wings wave upon a sage green moss
Whilst vibrating webs in fevered mood delight a flies flight loss
Tinkering thoughts they travel over a calming cool breeze break
Smiling eyes, a touch, a breath, do beguile...

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With chilling breaths, October's magic sighs

          The pastel golds and umbers drifting bright

             ...

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I thought of “Far Away” as an escaping,
wild trees and flowers in all their rapt fury.
To be free of love and all its stiff draping,

fleeing dark emotions in a swift hurry.
Now I see bright orchids...

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The day chilled rainy and gray
 allowed the wind to sweep and sway
each and every tree that held tight its leaves
 now released them to the slightest breeze.
Driving down the blackened road eroding
 macadam faded...

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Summer's green vistas sang a farewell tune
as bare limbs gently swayed in a chill wind.
It swept o'er hills, beneath a harvest moon,
filching leaves; a theft it could not rescind.

Autumn is gilded with bucolic hues.
Fawn feathered...

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E-very tick of the clock
L-ets us be in a hurry; 
L-ife on earth is too short; 
A-ll of us must not tarry.
I-n front of us we see
N-umbers of people outside; 
E-ach chance we must take...

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L-onely night has turned
I-nto a morning sunlight; 
N-ew dawn has broken, 
G-ray is nowhere in sight.
K-iss the haze goodbye, as the sky starts to be bright; 
Y-our birthday in February is on the seventh day...

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A bell-jar, crystalline, as transparent as an aquarium
Vibrant colors burnt umbers tints glass atop the kitchen table.
No elaborate gardening, just gentle misting in the terrarium
Muted pinks, earthy tones, texture soft as Siberian sable
My supercilious ways...

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A cinder,
neither coal nor ash,
my life,
clogs the roots of swaying carnations.
Fear, like a cheetah, runs faster than discretion.
Helplessly you tear off the last page
of the book
without reading the end.

One petaled coral, green,
hides the white death,
drowning...

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Hear our voice
From the east, west, south, and north
Hear our independence
This July Fourth
Like flowers in bloom
In the night
See the chandeliers
Hang in the sky
With crescendos and
Reds, blues and whites
Explosions and commotion
In the battle lights
In the bomb...

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