The memories of autumn
when the leaves change
and the cool wind blows
often evolve around family
Picking apples, pumpkin patches,
colors of leaves combining
as my boys jumped in piles raked
together just for that purpose
Before they reached adulthood
and went their own ways
and illness settled in our midst
Autumn represented closeness and hope
While hope still exists, the autumn
breeze doesn't smell like it anymore,
and piles of leaves don't bring laughter
as the empty nest empties the festivities
Independence and death have separated
us from our boys, yet we still have each other
Autumn looks and feels so different, but this
is where hope and love rewrite the script
But the loneliness of Autumns past and joy
that will never come again in those ways
leaves a scar but beautiful memories,
that I choose to embrace and enjoy
"To Let" - it reads,
The sign on her gate.
Yet, for the ones she loved -
They all still wait.
The wind waits with a bated breath
To blow softly to dry her hair -
The ground awaits her watering-can
Despite the rain that has fallen there.
Her trees still bloom
Yet, long for her touch -
Little garden animals too -
She had loved all so much!
The birds fly in -
Wait, and then go
"When will she come?"
They really don't know.
The brown stray dog -
Lonely, sick and sore
Longs for her caring and love
Though she lives here no more.
Where art thou O Lord, My God
I cried in desolate prayer -
They say you're in the clouds and rains,
The mountains, plains and everywhere.
Where art thou O Divine One
I ask unto the skies,
Your creation and love is around and above
Yet you are hidden from my eyes.
A piercing wail broke into my thoughts
A cry of sheer pain -
I looked around for the source of sound
But I looked around in vain.
Then, I saw him.. the lost little one
Weeping under a tree -
I rushed to him in maternal love
And held him close to me.
The tear-stained face beamed a sunny smile
For all the world to see
And at that moment I heard a voice
Deep inside of me -
"I was there in the child's cry
And his joy on seeing you
I am forever in a mother's heart
Am in everything anew!"
The woman hadn’t slept for days.
Blood-curdling screams
Crawling from under the door,
Lurking down the stairs,
Seeping into her eardrums,
Turning her stomach
At the mere thought
Of her baby in distress.
She made her way
To the nursery.
Just as the tips of her fingers
Grasped the cold shock
Of the doorknob,
A silence fell.
The woman opened the door.
A draft of icy air
Sending shivers through her skin,
Only to be swallowed
By the frozen emptiness
The nursery had wrapped around her.
The silence lingered
As she approached the crib,
Only to be broken
By the creaking of the mobile.
She reached
For her bundle of joy,
Laying peacefully in its slumber,
But her arms sank
As the blanket collapsed;
She cradled her sorrows instead.
Let me lie down for a while
To watch the clouds formless wags
Their silver linings in the sky
Can’t be corroded by the rains
Intangible, ephemeral
That silver shines too bright
To last for longer, on the roll
Of the wild winds I might
Feel for a minute, maybe two
Or three, if I continue
To watch the sky in search of you
Although I live within you.
Asks a moon mate
if I still feel that subtle
flame beneath my heart
when she seeks to reach for me
I smile at her fleeting warmth
and move ahead
No matter how many tears I cry
They'll never be enough
'Cause the days without you were splendidly tough.
It hurts my heart to the core
I can't wear that surface smile anymore
'Cause my wounds are still sore.
Till this day I admire you
-Like a ship to its crew.
TACTILE
By Frank Daub
Tactilis – the Ancients said.
“Capable of being touched” –
There is a heaviness in this word,
That awakens the soul – too much.
Of lost proximity, hand
Touching – hand?
Or
Love
reaching the empty space
Of an unresponsive land.
Fly BMI, to land in time
There is no time to waste
Stroll down along the Serpentine
The morning air to taste
Across the park to Albert Hall
To Kensington High Street
And further on, towards the Mall
Where you can rest your feet
It’s got to be the Living Room
Their Dover sole is great
Pale sun, and even paler moon
Fall down on your plate
Two people here, three people there
Dull people talk and turn
I like the fuss they make, don’t care
To be liked in return
On Charing Cross I’m quick to toss
Some CDs at the Foyles
A truly searching lad I was
To find my kind of noise
End of the day, the hotel bar
I’m looking at the floor
There is no more Thistle Hyde Park
And Living Room’s no more
The times have changed, but I remain
About the same today
Although it’s quite a different game
I imitate to play
Those were the days, my darling dear
Those were the nights as well
Fly BMI, to disappear
No one would care to tell.
Shameless boys and cigarette butts
Burnt my porcelain skin and singed my heart
Spent years betting on losing horses
Just to feel some dopamine
But oh, young Brenton, he had a charm
A voice of musk and a scent of vanilla
Strapped me onto long motorcycle rides
Oh, dear God, what'll he do next?
His caress, rebellion type of prowess
It nearly strained my lungs to death
The light of day may be ugly and stained
But with him, I'm in a long and deepened sleep...
It's as if I'm a corpse with movement
The way he numbs my labyrinth mind
Testing my senses of separation
Icy cold to heart, yet sizzling to touch
Every brush stroke feels like I’m healing
As I paint these stars all over your ceiling
Drawing constellations all over the walls
Slow dancing to you every time that you call
I trace the soft orbits of our shadows aligned
To rid the world of perfection—it’d be so unkind
No man or Adonis could entrap me, its feeble
You’re a child of beauty, so damn pure and regal
I wait in the depths of my own bleeding heart
Trying to tear down the walls that keep us apart
You grant me sweet nothings—a pleasurable start
I’m living on the moon now and I’ll never depart
Fading in, fading out with every kiss of your name
You’ve got me in your palm and I have no one to blame
Take a bow in the silence, my efforts are in vain
Because loving you darling.. is sweet holy pain.
Searching for a unicorn:
a fool’s errand at best.
That such a thought would come to mind,
I never would have guessed.
The likelihood one might be found
is quite small, at least soon.
It’s possible there’s only one
betwixt here and the moon.
Vivacious, oh so agile -
they’re light upon their feet.
From sturdy stock, not fragile
and quirky, fun, offbeat.
If you would chase a unicorn,
you’ll have to learn her haunts,
slip quiet to her secret place
to find out what she wants.
I’m dubious I’ll find again
a creature of such class;
I’m hoping if I manage to,
she’ll like a lowly ass.
THE LONGONG
Why has thou cursed me
with this longing for love?
I don't want it anymore.
I'm old and tired, haunted by desire.
What the hell is this longing for?
I lie to myself at every days end.
I say I'll make do with some friends.
I fight with the might of a thousand men,
to never feel the longing again.
I still can't help my pitiful self,
the longing still taunts me
from a old dusty shelf.
But as I sat writing I stoped to think
Damn the thought that made my heart sink
Suddenly I was compelled to see,
in a moment of dreadful clarity.
I don't need anybody to love,
but I want someone to love me.
life that knows death
and nevertheless continues
God is gracious
Grace granted after trial, mercy,
stronger than judgment
divine help that was not earned but
given
Ivo is the one preserved through death by grace
The evergreen life that survives the underworld because God has remembered it.
Time flies by slowly, steadily... it is like
there is nothing worth rushing for.
Yet every second feels suffocating,
every minute feels longer than the previous.
Waiting slowly kills the feeling
of everything that might, for an instant,
make the day brighter.
Counting the passing days one by one,
suddenly the way it used to be seems
extremely far, distant.
The angst is pulling at every nerve,
playing with every thought,
that perhaps all there was
is slowly going to fade away.
Yet a promise, a few words shortly said,
keep my heart surprisingly at ease.
My sanity strains to survive,
but what can I do,
when all I long for is
to hear your voice.
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