This astronomical event
Molted out of summer sunbeams
Causes an herbaceous retreat
Personified as sleepiness
More darkness less lightness describes
This astronomical event
More coldness less heatness results
From shorter indirect sunbeams
Tilting revolving rotating
Earth goes around again until
This astronomical event
Reassuringly reoccurs
Earthly inhabitants rejoice
Variously and celebrate
The season attributed to
This astronomical event
Hesitant awakening ...
misty veil reveals another
24 sixty
incremental uncertainty
Retinal unwillingness
Indecision guides each fretful,
retrograde step
Nocturnal blurred moral vision
offers no lucid clarity ...
only ethical neutrality
What’s the right thing to do?
Hollow convictions refuse to ask,
opaque principles
don’t have crystal
clear courage to bravely choose
Ain’t nothing left to soul salvage,
a gluttonous life
squats out enamel feelings empty
Leaving just a cockatrice shell
of tear-tainted desires
Temporal reverie of carnal thoughts:
gold mind lust
foolishly lung expired
The rosy pleasures of youth has age withered;
a sullen heart shattered,
pierced by thorny choices from fallen pain petals
A reluctant dawn
reoccurs
in the sunset years
Dwindling light of hope
presently disappears
As grave, past misgivings
take hold
of tomorrow fears
Everyday
I am trapped in a dimension
Where only repetition exists,
That reoccurs the colour theme of black.
But the windows are very visible from the doom,
Delineating bright sunlight and pavement colour of the moon.
Best of all, I can see the birds flapping their mighty wings.
I unfold my arms with barely any strength,
And reach for them,
Hoping to become one of them.
Again.
Every night and morning when the outside of the windows,
Is beautifully shaded with calming grey that mellows.
And when it is painted in soft blended colour of thick orange and light yellow,
Birds fly between South and North through the colour of fallow.
I can tell very easily without effort,
Each of them holds great stories
Because I was like them once,
Who also held great stories.
Yes, I was one of those birds,
With pride and strength,
That glided through the treasure sites,
And enjoyed when the warm breeze kissed my cheeks
Over golden sparkling oceans.
But now my wings are broken,
Memories and valuables torn apart in ashes,
In to pieces that cannot be glued back.
So I always whisper to myself,
With solemn remorse,
I sure do miss those days.
At different times in our life
Love means different things
Before our teens “puppy love”
Starts our young hearts to sing
Teenage love quickly follows
With raging out-of-control hormones
Discover there's much more to life
Than baseball and ice cream cones
Then comes the roarin' twenties
Get married and have a family
Way to soon they're off to school
Can't be a grey hair, that''s silly
Next comes the middle forties
A successful business man
But love is still number one in life
Your secretary, your eyes do scan
The fifties are a rude awakening
You sure ain't young anymore
Girlies' shorts are shorter than ever
Notice them a whole lot more
60s and 70s are much the same
Where did I leave my teeth
Physical love just ain't so important
But it's still hiding beneath
All the stuff that goes with old age
Then love reoccurs once more
A gentler, softer, more tender love
As we dream of the days of yore
© Jack Ellison 2013
We've hit a bump;
the melodies and notes that
resemble the feelings of our love
hang in the air broken,
and the silence looms over us
like fog in a cemetery.
It's easier to remember the
difference in all equations than
what reoccurs;
and so our hound dogs,
like our past fights
keep us up at night with eh
passing thoughts of
"should I be here?" and
"Is it worth it?"
And so we explain our case;
the lawyers inside us that
never wish to lose a fight,
all lawyers are guilty.
There never will be a time,
when two songs of
different tempos will make a
melody.
Let's start humming the same tune,
and break the broken desires.
Fear not it's strength by any means.
Let there be laughter and sharing of pleasure.
May the silences be golden riches full of wisdom and thought.
Yearn to be each others mirror,
the reflection that reoccurs.
A fine wine that’s enjoyed with maturity.
A pure gold that delights in a troubled fire.
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